Keeping Casey (Keeping Him #1) - Amy Aislin Page 0,70

and in pain. Today, he’d been smiling and loose. When Casey had asked about it, Ethan had admitted that he’d thought he’d failed a quiz last week, but he’d gotten the results back today and he’d done much better than expected.

Casey rolled his eyes. Of course Ethan had done well, and of course he hadn’t said anything to Casey about how worried he was about it. God. That man. Casey loved him to death, but fuck, he was exasperating. He hadn’t missed the wince from Ethan earlier when he’d bent to pick up his backpack. He must’ve woken in pain after his nap. Had he said anything to Casey about it?

Nope.

Good thing Casey knew what signs to look for, and he’d thrust a bottle of pain killers Ethan’s way before he’d left.

Picking up his phone again, he checked the time. “Hey, Jasper?”

Jasper grunted.

“Were you serious about that sign for Ethan’s games?”

“Hell yeah.” In two seconds flat, Jasper had unearthed a plastic container of markers from his desk drawer.

Casey rubbed his hands together and got to work.

Ethan hurt.

And it wasn’t just his left side.

That was the thing about his condition—he could go weeks without a flare-up and then all of a sudden wake up with every piece of himself on fire for no discernible reason.

Which was what had happened today after his nap at Casey’s dorm. Aside from the chronic pain in his left side, he’d been fine before his nap. But he’d awoken to a throbbing so sharp it echoed throughout his entire body, from the tips of his toes to his ears. He hadn’t hurt like this in months, not since he’d figured out which meds worked for him and since he’d switched to a mostly vegan diet. What had he messed up? He never skipped his meds and had been eating right. Was it something at the potluck that wasn’t agreeing with him?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. In the next moment, he was hopping over the boards for his shift on the ice.

Tonight’s game felt like it was moving in slow motion. He’d never wanted to play hockey less in his life, and that was a new feeling. He wanted to tell Coach Abshire that he was ill and couldn’t play. He wanted to curl up in Casey’s bed, down some pain killers, and watch a movie.

For the barest second, he hated who he was and what he’d been diagnosed with. For the barest second, he wanted to hide away from the world and nurse his wounds. For the barest second, he resented his teammates, his classmates, hell, even Casey, for being healthy and whole. Resented them for being normal college students who didn’t have to bring meds with them on a quick overnight trip, or keep a log of everything they ate, or live with the knowledge that they’d one day—sooner rather than later—have to depend on others just to get by.

They were fleeting, those thoughts, because they were so unlike him. As soon as his skates hit the ice, he forgot about everything on his rush to steal the puck from Suffolk University, pushing the pain aside to play, play, play. Because no matter how bad the pain got, he loved this sport with everything he had, and he’d keep playing until he couldn’t anymore.

Defeatist thoughts smothered under determination, he intercepted a pass, gaze sweeping the ice. Sommersby was open. Ethan sent the puck his way, only for it to be intercepted by the opposing team.

Damn it.

They were halfway through the third period and Suffolk U was winning 2–1.

He skated hard for another couple of minutes, and then just like that, his shift was over and he was jumping back over the boards, sweat dripping off his temple, breathing harder than he normally would.

“Are you okay?” Theo asked him from his right. At Ethan’s raised eyebrow, he added, “You’re kind of pale despite the exertion and you’re holding yourself stiffly. You’re not getting that stomach flu that Lajoie and VanSanten have, are you? That’s how it started for them—muscle aches.”

Was that all this was? Was it possible that he was having flu symptoms and they were making his RA worse?

Relief sagged his shoulders. If it was just the flu, at least he knew that it wouldn’t last forever. With his RA, the pain could disappear within a few hours if he adjusted his meds right—or last for much longer if he wasn’t careful.

He almost wanted to crow at succumbing to something so normal.