Page 86 of Game Misconduct
“I know, but you shouldn’t have to. You should just have to worry about winning, not young guys trying to fucking like—”
“Babe, you do realize what you’re saying, right?”
Mike’s ears turned bright red, and Danny could see it even in the dim light of Mike’s bedroom. “That was—that was before I got to know you.”
“I’m just teasing you.”
“Iknow, but—look, I’m really—I’m really sorry about how things started. I’ve been—”
“It’s okay. Mike, seriously, it’s fine.”
“I just don’t—”
“It’sokay.”
Mike looked troubled, like he wanted to go on, but he let Danny change the subject.
The next day Danny knew he was going to have a hard time with it. He woke up sore and bruised, moving slow as fuck to get out of the hotel bed and into the shower. As he brushed his teeth, he thought he was going to need along-ass summer to recover if he was going to make it through next year. The thought, for the first time, held nothing. He couldn’t feel any positivity toward it, only dread, even though he knew he was going to keep the inexorable march to the finish line going.
He texted his parents and Celi back. They’d both sent congratulations and their worries about the upcoming games. It was a lot. There were anywhere from four to seven games in the conference finals, and the same in the Cup finals. Danny had never made it that far before, even when his health had been better.
Gears came up to him to fist-bump before they went out onto the ice. “You good?” he asked Danny. It had become a ritual of its own.
Danny, whose skin was tingling a little because he’d taken some Percs to get through the game after a rough practice skate, said, “I’m good, little buddy. Seriously, don’t worry about me.”
It was a different story on the ice. Danny’s knee buckled every time he pushed it skating, but luckily, he wasn’t putting out too many minutes. Gears was playing his ass off in their zone, getting his stick in lanes and using perfect body positioning to take away the best angles, and Danny was thrilled for him, and for Landry, who had a current career high in playoff points. Danny didn’t have much, but he was still skating, and that was good for something. Every minute he was on the ice meant he was closer to a summer where he could just try to rebuild his body, somehow.
In the second period he was on the ice a little more than he had been in the first, due solely to the fact that the Hornets kept taking stupid penalties and he was killing penalties. Danny didn’t mind battling it out around the boards, but he really didn’t want Tampa to tie it up, couldnotlet them poke it past while he was distracted, and as he was making a rush for the puck, he didn’t see Cameron until he ran straight into a hip check, and was airborne.
Bee had taken the loss harder than Mike did, but it cheered her up to watch the rest of the games together. Even when they’d been knocked out of the playoffs, she liked to analyze the competition and offer her thoughts. Sometimes Mike thought it would be better for her if she hadanyhobbies outside of hockey, even if she liked to go fishing or golfing during the summer, the boring shit hockey players usually did that Mike couldn’t stand. But if she had, she wouldn’t have been Bee.
Mäkelä was crashing at their apartment so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs at his own condo. He watched too, stretched out on the chaise lounge of the couch while Bee and Mike were shoved into the other end.
The second game was pretty rough watching; the first game had gone all the way to OT and the second game seemed to be a minor or major penalty almost every time Mike looked up. That meant Danny was on the ice more than he should have been, and Mike’s stomach dipped, nervous every time he noticed him. He tried not to let on exactly how nervous he was, because of course Bee and Mäkelä didn’tknow, but he felt kind of sick every time he saw how Danny was skating, every time Mike knew how much he was hurting.
And then Cameron hip-checked Danny, Danny’s body went flying, and the crowd in Tampa roared. Mike stopped breathing. Danny’s back hit the boards and his head smacked down into the ice and he lay in a heap, not moving. The Hornets on the ice lunged at Cameron and it took a second after the whistle blew for the linesmen to separate everyone. Cameron stood there, helmet askew and face bloody, saying something to the linesman.
“Get up,” Mike said, before he could stop himself, feeling like he was going to puke, “get up, get up, get up.”
Danny wasn’t moving. It was only a few seconds, but they felt like forever.
“Get up,”Mike said to the television. His voice sounded funny.
“Michael,” Bee said, staring at him, “are you—”
She had probably figured it out, but Mike couldn’t care. He was on the edge of the couch, his fists clenched, watching as Danny hauled himself to his feet and skated off the ice without anyone helping him. That was a good sign, but Jesus fucking Christ, that hit had been brutal, and his head had smacked the ice so hard, and at such a bad angle. He had beenout.
Mike finally exhaled once the camera moved away from Danny, although the announcers were talking about it, going through Danny’s extensive list of injuries that should have been career ending, and Mike thought that he’d like to go to Tampa Bay and strangle both of them.
“Mike,” Mäkelä said. “Are you okay?”
Mike thought about it for a second. “No, I’m really not.”
“Do you...want to talk about it?” Bee asked, hesitant.
He had his head in his hands now. “You know how I told you earlier—Danny’smy—my boyfriend, Bee. The one I was telling you about. He really...he reallycan’ttake hits like that...”
“Oh, Michael,” Bee said, and he let her pull him toward her. Bee was a big woman, and her arms were really fucking strong, and it was weird, but it felt good to be muscled into a hug from which you couldn’t escape even if you’d really wanted to. Behind her, Mäkelä had sat up straight, though his eyes were intense and his face was as stoic as ever.