needed a shower tonight. I sat on the bench for a few minutes, and finally convinced the medics I didn’t need the oxygen mask anymore. Though once I took it off, I decided the tradeoff wasn’t so great—instead of cold air, now I was getting the full bouquet of a locker room. Oh God. I was still in the locker room. I’d been lying on the locker room floor. I shuddered. Definitely needed a shower ASAP.
My head was clearing, and the oxygen machine’s white noise wasn’t drowning out other sounds anymore, and I realized the locker room was mostly quiet and empty. Coach had probably ordered everyone to stay out on the ice for now. That, or the morning skate wasn’t over yet. How the hell long had I been in Freakoutland, anyway? Maybe I didn’t want to know.
“You want us to call anyone?” Coach asked.
“No. I’m good.” I patted my pockets and found my phone. “I’ll give my mom a heads up so she doesn’t worry when I don’t play tonight.”
And Devin. Shit! Devin’s supposed to be here. We’re supposed to—
The machine tracking my pulse started beeping faster, and I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths.
“You okay?” The woman sounded concerned. “Your pulse just accelerated.”
“I’m good. I’m…” I swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”
Physically, I’d be okay, and I knew going to the hospital was just a precaution and a liability thing.
But I wasn’t good.
I wasn’t fine.
And I had no idea what to do about it.
Richard fed the media the usual line when a player scratched at the last minute: food poisoning. I’d been admitted to the hospital for observation, was recovering comfortably, and was expected to return to the ice after missing no more than two or three games.
Devin sent several worried texts, and I assured him I’d be fine. I let the food poisoning line stand for now. I was too exhausted and embarrassed to tell him the truth. When I saw him in person, then I could tip my hand, but for now I blamed it on some bad sushi and included a few unhappy emoji faces. I felt guilty for lying to him, but at least this way I didn’t have to delicately explain why I needed to be alone tonight.
The hospital released me right around the time the game ended. I was tempted to go meet my buddies at the bar for our post-road-trip drinks, but I couldn’t handle people tonight. Especially not my teammates. They must have been pissed at me for letting them down like that.
So I took a cab home, and settled onto my couch to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next. And what the hell had happened. And what any of it meant.
My phone buzzed with a text. I groaned—I didn’t have the brain cells to deal with anyone, never mind type anything out, but I read it anyway.
Maddox had sent, Came to check on you.
Came to—wait, he was here?
Right then, the elevator dinged. He wasn’t…
I rose slowly—I was still a little wobbly—and even without his skates on, I knew those heavy footfalls coming down the hall. I headed for the door, and I opened it just before he would’ve knocked.
“Hey.” He looked me up and down. “You’re still standing. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Come on in. You want a beer or something?”
“Nah, I gotta drive after this.” We sat down on my couch, and he studied me. “How are you doing? What the hell happened?”
I slung my arm across the back of the couch and sighed. “The doctor said it was…” I laughed bitterly as heat rushed into my face. “They said it was a panic attack.”
He didn’t look surprised. “Yeah? But you’re good now?”
I nodded slowly and croaked, “I think so. Thanks.”
“So, what’s going on, man?” His voice was full of concern. “You’ve been kind of shaky lately, and this is like the third time something like this has happened this week.”
“It hasn’t been this bad,” I murmured.
“I know. It was super bad today, but the last few days…” He tilted his head. “What’s up?”
I swallowed the acid in my throat. I hated that my teammates had ever seen me break down like this, never mind as often as it had been happening lately. I was grateful they didn’t give me shit for it, and that Maddox and Kuznetsov knew how to talk me through it, but it was embarrassing as hell.