forward on his right side, and as the guy raised his stick to take the shot, Jeff flipped the puck to a teammate. Concentrating on the play down the ice, Jeff didn’t see the infuriated number six skid to a stop, pivot, and slam his body into Jeff’s. Jeff flew off his feet and landed flat on his back. Number six scowled down at him a second before rocketing to the other end.
“Did you see that?” Skye squeezed Mark’s arm.
Two of Jeff’s teammates crashed into number six for the unfair hit and others piled on. Boys threw themselves into the fight with more energy than effectiveness, intent on pounding someone on the other team. The refs hurried to break up the free-for-all.
Skye looked back to Jeff, where he rocked from side to side on his back, struggling to sit up. She slid her arm from Mark’s and slowly stood. Something’s wrong. He wasn’t bouncing back up like the other times.
The coach ran across the ice to the hurt boy. Stifling the impulse to race out onto the rink too, Skye prodded Mark’s shoulder. “He needs help.”
Mark stood and looked over her head. “Probably just got the breath knocked out of him.”
Jeff rolled back and forth then tried to sit up. He dropped back to the ice, wincing. The coach knelt next to him, talking.
Skye clutched Mark’s arm. “He’s hurt. Do something.” They had to call an ambulance. Skye patted her jacket, then remembered she’d left her phone in the car. “Where’s your phone?” She looked at Mark’s waist where he wore it clipped to his belt, but his jacket covered it. “Call 911.”
Mark spared her a glance and then patted her shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”
“He needs help.” Skye held out her shaking hand, palm up. “Give me your phone.”
“Skye, calm down, he’s fine. Look, he’s getting up.”
When she didn’t find the phone clipped to the hip nearest her, she lifted his jacket and moved impatient hands along his waistline. Chest burning, Skye struggled to draw in air past her panic-clogged throat.
Mark batted her hands away. “Look.” With a hand to the top of her head, he palmed her head and none-too-gently turned her toward the ice.
Through her watery gaze, Skye saw Jeff glide across the rink to the box. Slowly, the cheering and clapping penetrated her panicked mind. She shuddered and relaxed.
Mark pulled her down next to him, holding her to his side until the quaking stopped. He tilted her chin up and brushed the hair from her face. Concern and confusion showed in his expression.
Skye sniffled and pushed her lips into a fleeting smile. She tore her gaze away and cleared her throat. “I guess he just had the breath knocked out of him.”
She expected a pithy comeback—hoped for one. Anything to gloss over this awkward moment. Mark’s gentle silence nearly undid her again. He squeezed a shoulder and wrapped her into his chest. When she felt his lips on the top of her head delivering a tender kiss, she pressed her eyes tightly closed to keep from crying. Despite the layers between them, Skye felt safe and protected.
“My niece died,” Skye whispered into his neck.
Mark pulled back and ducked his head to look at her. “What?”
“Last month.” She gulped. “My niece died last month.”
Compassion replaced the worry in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot, I just... He was hurt, and he’s just a kid.” And we’re adults . Adults are supposed to help kids . Supposed to protect them and make it all better . But I didn’t make it better . I didn’t make it better for Niki .
“How’d she die?”
“She had a massive heart attack.”
Mark turned away and looked toward the ice, swearing under his breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Not at a school sporting event. Please.”
What? Why would he think tha—oh. Mark worried that Niki had dropped dead at school. “Niki got a virus that destroyed a huge chunk of her heart muscle. She needed
“Did you see that?” Skye squeezed Mark’s arm.
Two of Jeff’s teammates crashed into number six for the unfair hit and others piled on. Boys threw themselves into the fight with more energy than effectiveness, intent on pounding someone on the other team. The refs hurried to break up the free-for-all.
Skye looked back to Jeff, where he rocked from side to side on his back, struggling to sit up. She slid her arm from Mark’s and slowly stood. Something’s wrong. He wasn’t bouncing back up like the other times.
The coach ran across the ice to the hurt boy. Stifling the impulse to race out onto the rink too, Skye prodded Mark’s shoulder. “He needs help.”
Mark stood and looked over her head. “Probably just got the breath knocked out of him.”
Jeff rolled back and forth then tried to sit up. He dropped back to the ice, wincing. The coach knelt next to him, talking.
Skye clutched Mark’s arm. “He’s hurt. Do something.” They had to call an ambulance. Skye patted her jacket, then remembered she’d left her phone in the car. “Where’s your phone?” She looked at Mark’s waist where he wore it clipped to his belt, but his jacket covered it. “Call 911.”
Mark spared her a glance and then patted her shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”
“He needs help.” Skye held out her shaking hand, palm up. “Give me your phone.”
“Skye, calm down, he’s fine. Look, he’s getting up.”
When she didn’t find the phone clipped to the hip nearest her, she lifted his jacket and moved impatient hands along his waistline. Chest burning, Skye struggled to draw in air past her panic-clogged throat.
Mark batted her hands away. “Look.” With a hand to the top of her head, he palmed her head and none-too-gently turned her toward the ice.
Through her watery gaze, Skye saw Jeff glide across the rink to the box. Slowly, the cheering and clapping penetrated her panicked mind. She shuddered and relaxed.
Mark pulled her down next to him, holding her to his side until the quaking stopped. He tilted her chin up and brushed the hair from her face. Concern and confusion showed in his expression.
Skye sniffled and pushed her lips into a fleeting smile. She tore her gaze away and cleared her throat. “I guess he just had the breath knocked out of him.”
She expected a pithy comeback—hoped for one. Anything to gloss over this awkward moment. Mark’s gentle silence nearly undid her again. He squeezed a shoulder and wrapped her into his chest. When she felt his lips on the top of her head delivering a tender kiss, she pressed her eyes tightly closed to keep from crying. Despite the layers between them, Skye felt safe and protected.
“My niece died,” Skye whispered into his neck.
Mark pulled back and ducked his head to look at her. “What?”
“Last month.” She gulped. “My niece died last month.”
Compassion replaced the worry in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot, I just... He was hurt, and he’s just a kid.” And we’re adults . Adults are supposed to help kids . Supposed to protect them and make it all better . But I didn’t make it better . I didn’t make it better for Niki .
“How’d she die?”
“She had a massive heart attack.”
Mark turned away and looked toward the ice, swearing under his breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Not at a school sporting event. Please.”
What? Why would he think tha—oh. Mark worried that Niki had dropped dead at school. “Niki got a virus that destroyed a huge chunk of her heart muscle. She needed
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