Keeping Casey (Keeping Him #1) - Amy Aislin Page 0,71

See? He wasn’t so different than everyone else, after all.

“I’m good,” he told Theo, digging underneath the bench for his water bottle. He flexed his fingers to keep them loose and limber, letting the cheers of the crowd buoy him up.

On the other side of the arena, near the Mountaineers’ net, Casey stood between Jasper and April. At chest height, he held a sign that looked to have been crafted by taping two pieces of letter-sized paper together. In big, bold, Mountaineers’-green letters, he’d written Go Ethan! Underneath, in slightly smaller font: Go Theo! Go Brant! Go Mountaineers! Hockey sticks and pucks had been drawn along the perimeter.

Ethan snorted a laugh, the space between his ribs filling with tiny pinpricks of light that made him feel weightless and complete. As long as Casey was there, he expected that feeling would never go away.

The break between his shifts was both too short and too long. Too short because the pain that was a constant pulse through his bones was making it hard to concentrate. Too long because he knew that if he could just get back out there, he’d forget about everything except getting a little rubber disk into the net.

He gritted his teeth through the ache in his body as he landed on the ice for his next shift, racing toward where Britton and Sommersby were trying to keep Suffolk U from scoring. The puck came Ethan’s way, entirely by accident by the looks of things, and he grabbed it, moving around behind the goalie net to pass it back to Sommersby.

He didn’t see the hit coming.

One second he was pulling his arm back, setting up the pass.

In the next, he was being checked into the boards, his left side crashing against the puckboard.

Pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced before spiked through his body, tiny hammers beating at him and making his bones thrum and vibrate.

Jesus fuck.

Time slowed, and for a second he was suspended against the boards, jaw throbbing from his clenched teeth as play continued around him. As if through a long tunnel came the sounds of booing from the crowd. Then he was falling, and the last thing he saw before his vision grayed was Casey, fisted hands banging against the boards, eyes terrifyingly huge. Even in his pained state, Ethan could read his lips before he sank to the ice, eyes falling closed.

“Ethan! Ethan!”

Chapter Twenty

Arms crossed, Casey leaned against the wall outside of the exam room, one foot flat on the wall behind him, leg bouncing. April was inside the room with Ethan, Coach Abshire, and the team’s athletic trainer. He hadn’t been let inside. First, because the room was too small. Second, because he wasn’t family.

Fuck that shit. He’d been Ethan’s family almost as long as April.

But it was fine. Everything was fine. April was in there and she’d come let him know what was happening just as soon as she had any news. Plus, he’d gotten a glimpse of Ethan spread out on the exam table, and although his eyes had been pinched and cold sweat dripped down his temples, he’d shot Casey a thumbs-up.

Asshole. As if anything about this situation warranted a thumbs-up.

Heart in his throat, Casey rubbed his chest, sucking in a lungful of air that didn’t help settle him any. Jasper leaned against the wall next to him, sign crudely folded and tucked underneath one armpit.

For as long as he lived, Casey would never forget the look of pain that had crossed Ethan’s face when he’d been checked into the boards. His eyes had gone huge, mouth making an “Oh,” as though he’d been surprised at the hit. Then his mouth had flattened into a tight line, his eyes slamming closed before popping open again. He’d swayed on his feet for a second before sliding to the ice.

Casey had literally tried to climb over the boards to get to him. April had pulled him back, shouted at him to follow her, and led the way to the back corridors where they’d waited near the exam room. It hadn’t taken long for Ethan to arrive with Coach and the athletic trainer, teeth gritted, color leeched out of his face.

At least he’d been on his own two feet. That was something.

He’d shot Casey a pained smile that had turned into a grunt, squeezed Casey’s hand in what was no doubt meant to be reassurance, and disappeared into the exam room.

Coach’s barked, “Family only,” had prevented Casey from entering. As the door had swung