Page 79 of Playmaker

But when I was in this much pain—when it hurt to move my knee at all—it was hard to imagine ever lacing up my skates again. Just the thought of putting weight on it made me want to start crying again.

And God, I hated that I’d cried on the ice. One reporter had written a scathing article a couple of years ago about how women weren’t suited for hockey, and their tears over injuries were exactly why. He’d waxed poetic about players in the men’s league gritting their teeth through all kinds of awful pain, still remaining stoic even when they had to leave the game or go to the hospital. Then he’d included pictures of a few players from the WHPL, as well as one from the Olympics and one from major juniors (which was akid,for Christ’s sake), each showing a player in tears after an injury.

Never mind that there werereamsof videos and images of male hockey players crying. Anything from a serious injury to an emotional retirement speech to a devastating loss or emotional win. Hell, one of the guys had choked up during a press conference when he found out—in front of the cameras—that his best friend had just been traded. Toxic masculinity was definitely present and accounted for in men’s hockey, but there was no hockey without emotion, and sometimes emotion included tears. Nobody even cared. I mean, there was no faster way to reduce an entire arena of fans to sobbing than for alegendary player to tear up while making his final lap around the ice before retiring.

But yeah, we girls were too weak and emotional because Lisa Brewer cried after breaking her shoulder, Kolleen Gray shed some tears after a puck fractured her cheekbone, and Elsa Karlsson—who wasfifteen—cried after a collision left her with three cracked ribs.

Whatever.

It was stupid, but it stuck with me, and all I could think now was that the video and images of me wiping away tears were filtering their way onto the social media of that reporter and his fans. That there were already posts about how I was evidence that women were too soft and delicate for this sport.

I didn’t know why that was bothering me so much tonight. Maybe it was because fixating on whether or not someone cared about me crying was a lot less scary than wondering if I’d played my last game of hockey tonight.

I closed my eyes and rubbed them. This was hell. Couldn’t they just come give me the prognosis? Like… now?

Except I also didn’t want to know. I was afraid to know.

So I just focused on how much I didn’t want to start crying again. Because in that moment… Fuck. I felt like breaking.

There was a knock at the door, and then a nurse peeked in. “Ms. Hamilton? You have a visitor.”

Clearing my throat, I sat up a little. “I do?”

“Yes. Sabrina?”

That was the first good news I’d heard all night. “Send her in. Please.”

The nurse disappeared, and then Sabrina stepped in, dressed in the suit she’d worn to the game.

“Hey.” Her eyes were wide with concern. “How are you feeling? Have they said how bad it is?”

She reached out to me, but I put up a hand.

“I… still smell like the game.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes and gently knocked my hand out of the way. “I don’t care.” Then she hugged me, and suddenly I didn’t care either. I buried my face against her neck and held on for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as relief came my way for the first time since I’d gone down. Hot tears came too, but I just didn’t care. Sabrina was here. She wouldn’t give me grief for being emotional right now.

I was so damn glad she was here. So damn relieved. Especially since—

My brain caught up, and I drew back. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at the airport?” The team had to be on their way there right now.

Sabrina grimaced. “I’ve got a flight first thing in the morning. I told Coach I wanted to be here with you, at least for tonight.”

My stomach knotted with guilt. “But you need to sleep. You’ll be exhausted and jetlagged when you get to—”

Her soft lips stopped mine. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s a short flight. I’ll be fine.”

I let my shoulders slump. “I guess it’s good I didn’t do this right before a West Coast road trip.”

Sabrina kissed my forehead, then eased down on the edge of the bed, sitting beside my uninjured leg. She gripped my hand tight. “I just wish I could stay beyond tomorrow morning.”

Shaking my head, I whispered, “No. The team needs you.”

“But I need to be with you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. And as much as I didn’t want the team to be without her—without their captain—I was so relieved she was here with me.

It did give me pause, though, and I squeezed her hand. “People will figure us out, you know. The public, I mean. That we’re…”