***
Two hours later, I’m running late to the game, hoping my tardiness is worth it. I’d decided that tonight, of all nights, called for a colorful occasion—and since I didn’t own many colorful clothes, I took Diana up on her suggestion and hit the mall.
There, I’d found a summery yellow dress that hung to just above my knees, tapered through my waist, and fluttered in wispy sleeves high on my shoulder. It wasn’t exactly appropriate attire for a hockey game, but I wasn’t focused on the game; I was intent on making sure the evening which followed it went perfectly.
When I arrive at the arena, the emptiness of a line outside makes it clear that I’m running behind. I hand over my car to the valet, hustle inside, and find my seat. I’m halfway through scanning the seats for a familiar face, when my eyes lock on the one face more familiar than any other.
Boxer gives a wave from down on the ice. He’s waiting for his name to be called, and he must’ve been scanning the stands relentlessly to find me so quickly. My breath hitches at the realization that it’s me he was waiting to see.
I feel a little like a neon highlighter standing amid a sea of black sweaters and hug my dark shawl closer to my chest. Then, I wave back.
The game kicks off with the typical fanfare, and the first two periods fly by with such intensity I don’t even have the chance to consider my sitting here alone. It’s not until a familiar voice calls my name that I realize there’s only a few minutes left in the game.
“Good one, huh?” Duke nods at the rink below. The score is tied one to one. “Boxer’s having a fantastic game. Wonder if he’s showing off for a special someone?”
I glance at my shoes—also new, very cute pumps—to hide the blush in my cheeks. “Showing off for future agents, I’m sure. You heard the news about him signing with Rumpert, I suppose?”
To my surprise, Duke shakes his head and worms his way into a seat next to me. We sit in silence for a long moment, whistles blowing in the background. “You’ve changed.”
“Me?” It comes out sounding a little squeaky. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Your cheeks are doing that thing where they go all red. Never used to do that. I say Boxer’s name, and you light up like a Christmas tree.”
“Sorry.”
He clears his throat. “Was that an apology? You’re going soft, Jones.”
I let my eyes slide closed for a second, alone despite the roar of the crowd. “He’s ruined me.”
Duke reaches over and squeezes my knee. “Any good man, or woman, will.”
I feign a smile. “I haven’t ruined him, at least.”
Duke barks laughter. “Are you kidding me? The man’s putty in your hands. I’ll bet the only reason he’s playing so hard today is to prove to himself he’s not turning all googly eyed with love.”
“So?” I offer a truce of a smile. “How’d you guess?”
“I know these things.” He crosses his arms. “Sounds like you had a nice weekend in New York?”
“We did.”
“Thanks for the endorsement lead. I’m going to take the missus on a quick trip to Palm Springs. We’re renewing our vows the week after I retire.”
“Congratulations.”
“Nah, it’s an excuse for a vacation.” He blows it off, but I can see there’s a hint of happiness underneath that hard exterior. “She deserves to be spoiled a bit.”
I laugh. “I guess she’s ruined you, too.”
“Suppose you’re right. So, give me the details. What happened with Andy?”
I bob my head to either side. “I’m still not sure.”
“How did that happen?” Duke seems genuinely shocked, and more flatteringly, quite confused. “The man’s a jackass.”
“Yeah, well... don’t count me out just yet.” I sigh, cross my legs, and gaze at the ice for a second. “I think I have a way to fix it.”
“I’m glad to see you haven’t completely lost your touch.”
We both turn to face the rink, the clock ticking down from a minute.
“Hey, Duke,” I start. “What do you think—”
A collective gasp from the crowd mutes my next words. I turn back to the ice to see what’s happening just in time to see Boxer’s body sailing through the air and into the boards.
He lands with a crash, the sort of crunch of bones hitting surface that causes an entire room to cringe. Without realizing it, my hand reaches for Duke’s and squeezes—so tight I’m not sure circulation can get through. My heart nearly stops. My breathing becomes painful.
I fly to my feet. “We’ve got to get down there. How? Duke! Get up! We need—”
“Sit down, you’re not getting anywhere,” Duke says. “You’re pale as a ghost, and I’m not carrying you if you pass out.”
“I’m not...” I see stars, and I quit speaking once more. I can’t feel Duke’s hand squeezing me back, or his voice telling me to come with him. I just sit. Still.
Still as Boxer, who hasn’t moved once since he hit the boards and then the ice.
“What happened?” I manage to gasp as medics approach him. “Is he alive?”
“He’ll be fine,” Duke says. “It’s hockey, men get banged up.”
But there’s an antsiness in the crowd that doesn’t accompany all injuries, the sort of car wreck anxiety that at once has people unable to look away and brimming with sympathy all in one.
“But what if... is he unconscious?” I ask. I glance to Duke for the first time, really seeing him, and there’s a note of worry there that undercuts everything else. “You’re worried! What’s happening with him?”
“Let’s get out of here,” he tells me. “Come on, he won’t be finishing this game.”
“But—”
“Come on.”
We squeeze into the hallway with a few others struggling to leave before the rush of the final moments. As luck would have it, I recognize the man squeezing out right next to me.
“Jocelyn,” Rumpert says. “Hello, Duke.”
I’m too distracted to respond, but Duke mumbles something more sensible.
“I can handle this,” Rumpert says. “Y’all can go on home. I’ll head to the hospital with Boxer.”
“Shut up, Rumpert, and go the hell home,” Duke snaps. “You don’t have to ‘handle’ anything.”
“The hospital?” I murmur more quietly.
“I’ll go to the hospital with you,” Duke says as he sends Andy packing with a murderous glare. “Boxer clocked his head good, and I imagine they’ll want to check him out. I won’t leave you alone with Rumpert.”
“No, it’s okay, I have to go.” I find myself speaking hollow words, as if it’s a voice outside of my body that’s speaking, and the rest of me is just listening. I turn to Duke. “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”
“Boxer? Yeah, the man’s a wall of brick. He’ll wake up, they’ll poke at his bruises, and we’ll all be on our merry little way.”
“Then I... I can’t make it to the hospital right now. I have to be somewhere else.”
“Where the hell else do you have to be on a Friday night when your boyfriend’s injured?” Duke asks, scanning my face for answers. With a jolt of understanding, he sees exactly where I’m headed, and he nods again in agreement. “Go on,” he says more gently. “He’ll appreciate it.”
“Promise you’ll call me with any updates.”
“Only thing I’ll be updating is Rumpert’s nose. Flatten it a little, and...” He shakes his head as the dream fades. “I will, kid. Get going.”
I climb in the car and cruise away from the rink.
There is only one person in the world who might need me more than Boxer. I point my car in her direction and press the pedal to the floor.