Puck Pact: A Marriage of Convenience Hockey Romance (East Coast Series)

“Yes! Score!”

Cassidy jumps to her feet and screams with me. “Let’s fucking go, Goldfinches!”

The score is officially 1-0, and we have home advantage. The crowd is electric around us, cheering on their team and booing the shit out of Philadelphia.

Alexander’s teammates slap him on the shoulders as he skates by after putting points on the board, and then his eyes find me in my usual seat behind Trenton’s goal. I blow him a kiss and he pretends to catch it with his glove before returning his attention to the game.

“Keep your eyes on numbers four and five,” Celeste says. “They’re notorious for playing dirty and causing a lot of fights.”

Cassidy groans. “Why do they have to fight? Why can’t they just play?”

Both Cassidy and Celeste have seen their husbands take some mean hits on the ice, and Jason even got taken out on an ambulance once. My stomach hurts just thinking about something like that happening to Alexander, but I know it’s the name of the game. Hockey is an aggressive sport.

Going into the second period, I notice the two players Celeste pointed out getting bolder with their hits. They each end up in the penalty box a couple of times, but it doesn’t seem to stop them. Each time they slam into one of the Goldfinches, the crowd lets out an audible gasp in unison. McKinley is visibly pissed, and at one point he ends up throwing off his helmet and gloves to fight number four. Both of them come away with bloody faces. He’s up McKinley’s ass again in the next play, but Alexander slams him into the boards and shouts something at him before skating away.

Heat flushes my skin. There’s something about watching my man take charge on the ice that gets me all hot and bothered.

“You’re turned on, aren’t you?” Celeste asks.

A devious smirk twists my lips in response.

I can’t wait to get him home later.

I’m going to tell him tonight. I’m going to tell him I love him.

Philadelphia has yet to score, and the tension between the teams only continues to rise in the third period. They take a shot, but Trenton blocks another goal attempt and passes the puck to Jason, who manages to get it to Alexander.

“Go, baby, go!” I scream, cupping my hands over my mouth.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Alexander flies like lightning across the ice, and I’m in awe at how fast he gets to the other side of the rink. Philly’s defense is strong though. Alexander passes to McKinley, and he quickly fires it back. Alexander takes it behind the goalie’s net to escape, but number five is right behind him, running him into the boards and trying to steal the puck. They fight for possession, when all of a sudden, number four skates down the ice toward them.

“Shit,” Celeste mutters as we all rise to our feet.

“Get out of there!” I yell, as if Alexander can hear me over the roar of the crowd.

He’s looking down at the puck, trying to get it away from the asshole behind him. He comes away with the puck, picking up speed and getting in position, but right before he can shoot for the goal, numbers four and five slam into him—one from the front and one from behind, sandwiching him between them. Alexander’s helmet flies off as they tumble.

And his head smacks against the ice.

Hard.

My hands fly up to my mouth as I gasp, the sound swallowed by the eruption of the people screaming around us.

There’s a frenzy of fighting, gloves and sticks flying around the ice. Players from both teams take swings at each other, but all I can see is Alexander’s lifeless body lying on the ice.

“Why isn’t he moving?” I ask. “Why isn’t he getting up?”

Celeste clutches my left hand. “He probably just got the wind knocked out of him.”

A whistle blows and a medical team is signaled by one of the refs. Both teams freeze, realizing something is wrong.

Alexander’s arms and legs are splayed out and he’s not moving, but I’m too far away to see anything else.

“Are his eyes open?” My heartbeat feels like it’s in my throat, and bile rises in my stomach. “Can you see anything?”

Cassidy laces her fingers with my free hand. “Give him a minute.”

Come on, Big Man.

Get up.

Please get up.

My heart plummets when the stretcher comes out onto the ice. The medical staff secures Alexander’s neck in a brace and they carefully haul his giant body onto the stretcher and off the ice.

“Where are they taking him?” I reach down and grab my jacket and my purse. “Where is he going?”

“To the medical room. They’ll asses him there.” Celeste pulls out her phone and her thumbs fly across the screen. “One of my friends works in there. I’ll have her text me with updates.”

Trenton’s head hangs downward as he skates toward us to take his spot at the crease.

He lifts his eyes to mine when he skids to a stop. “Just breathe,” he mouths before putting on his helmet.

Then the game continues as if nothing happened.

I blink. “They’re just going to keep playing?”

Cassidy tugs on my arm. “Come on. Let’s go take a walk to the bathroom. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

Celeste follows us out, and it’s like I’m walking through a fog. I can’t see anything in front of me, and the voices around me sound muffled.

I pull out my phone to check in with Annie, and see if Giuliana was watching the game. My stomach sours at the thought of her watching her father get carted off the ice like that.

Me: You guys aren’t watching the game, are you?

Annie: No, why?

Me: Alex got hurt. I don’t know what’s happening yet but I’ll keep you posted.

In the time it takes us to walk to the bathroom, Celeste’s friend calls her with an update.

She presses the speaker button before she answers. “Hey, Sarah. What’s happening?”

“He’s still unresponsive. They’re taking him to Jersey Shore Medical.”

Unresponsive.

Hot tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away as I spin around and walk right out of the bathroom, mindlessly going through the motions as I try to find my way out of the stadium.

Unresponsive.

I shoot a text to Annie to let her know where we’re going, and then to Eddie who’s waiting outside to let him know we’ll be needing a ride to the hospital.

The girls stay silent on the way, and I’m grateful for it because I don’t have any words to say. Not until I find out what’s happening to Alexander. Instead, I type head injuries and concussions and unresponsive into the Google search, attempting to prepare myself for what’s to come.

At the hospital, I fill out the forms to the best of my ability, but I have to ask Annie for specifics that I don’t know.

I don’t know his social security number.

I don’t know his insurance information.

I don’t know his blood type.

I don’t know anything, because we’re not a real husband and wife.

I return the clipboard to the woman behind the desk, and she lets me know that someone will come out to speak with me once they know something.

Celeste wraps her arm around my shoulders, and walks me back to the chair. “Now we play the waiting game.”

Unresponsive.

“Are you hungry or thirsty?” Cassidy asks. “Want me to get you some coffee or water?”

I shake my head as I lower myself into the chair.

And I stare at the doors, willing Alexander’s doctor to walk through them with good news.

“Mrs. Krum?”

I jump to my feet as soon as I hear my name, making a beeline for the tall blonde doctor walking toward us. “Is he awake? Is he okay?”

“I’m Dr. Kelly,” she says. “I have some updates about your husband. Would you like to sit?”

I shake my head. “How is he?”

The doctor glances around at the waiting room, now filled with giant-sized hockey players. “Your husband had some internal bleeding that needed to be drained. That’s common with head trauma. I hear he took a nasty hit on the ice tonight.”

The vision of his head bouncing off the ice flashes through my mind, and I cringe. “So, now what?”

“Now he’s in recovery, and you’ll be able to see him soon. But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Why?” McKinley asks before I can get the word out.

“We’ll need to monitor him to make sure we can keep the brain from swelling further.”

“They said he was unresponsive when they brought him in.” I swallow. “Will he be conscious now that he’s had the surgery?”

“The brain is a tricky thing,” she says. “Everybody’s recovery is different.”

“So, what does that mean?” Trenton asks, reading my mind.

Dr. Kelly nods, turning to glance at him. “Right now, he’s in a coma.”

A coma.

Alexander is in a coma.

“When will he wake up?” I ask, even though I know it’s a stupid question.

Dr. Kelly offers me a sympathetic smile. “That’s up to your husband.”

I hate when people say that. As if Alexander is choosing to not wake up.

“When can I see him?”

“Once we get him settled in his room. It shouldn’t be too long.”

After the doctor heads back behind the double doors, my friends surround me.

“He just needs to recover,” Celeste says.

“Everything is going to be okay.” Cassidy.

Trenton squeezes my hand. “He’s a strong motherfucker. He’ll be fine.”

But they don’t know any of those things. Not even the doctor does. We don’t know if Alexander will be okay, or if he’ll wake up at all.

He’s in a coma.

“I have to call Annie.” I push out of the chair and head outside, needing the cold air to soothe my clammy skin. My fingers shake as I press the call button, and I swallow down the bile in my throat.

“Hey, what’s happening?” Annie answers.

“H-he had surgery to drain the bleeding in his brain, and now he’s in recovery. B-but he hasn’t woken up yet. The d-doctor s-said she doesn’t know when he will.”

If at all. I leave that part out because I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

It’s quiet for a moment before she responds. “Oh, God.”

I nod even though she can’t see me. “The doctor said she’d let me in to see him once he’s settled in a room.”

She sniffles. “All right. Keep me posted when you see him.”

“What are we going to tell Giuliana?”

“Nothing. Not yet. When she wakes up in the morning, I’ll tell her he had an early meeting before practice, and that you’re at the gallery.” She pauses. “No need to upset her.”

Tears sting my eyes. “But what if⁠—”

“No. Don’t think about that. We take this one moment at a time, you hear me?”

“One moment at a time,” I echo.

After the call ends, I blink up at the night sky to will the tears away.

One moment at a time.

The emergency room doors slide open behind me, and McKinley steps out. Out of all his teammates, he’s the closest with Alexander, and I know this is difficult for him.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

I’m glad he’s keeping his hands in his pockets, because if he tried to hug me, I’d probably break down in his arms and I can’t do that right now.

I have to stay strong.

My tears won’t bring Alexander out of his coma.

I shrug. “This fucking sucks.”

“Yeah, it fucking does.”

“Any chance you can find out where numbers four and five live?”

He arches a brow. “I’m sure I can.”

“Good.” I ball my hands into fists. “Let’s pay them a little visit.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, it’s gonna be bad for them the next time we play against them.”

I turn my head to look him in his crystal-blue eyes. “Mac, what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t think like that. He just got out of surgery. Give him some time.” One corner of his mouth turns up. “He’s too much of a control freak to let this take him out. He’s probably fighting like hell in that head of his.”

A half-laugh, half-sob bubbles out of my chest. “Definitely.”

He dabs at the corner of his eye. “I’m going to wait here with you, if that’s okay. They might not let me in to see him, immediate family and all, but I want to stay.”

I nod. “Of course. We can tell them you’re his brother.”

He runs his hand through his coppery curls and chuckles. “Adopted brother.”

Some of the team heads home while our small circle stays to wait it out. It’s another thirty minutes before a nurse comes out and lets me know that I can see Alexander.

She places her palm against my back as we walk down the long corridor. “I don’t know if you know anything about comas, but studies have shown that people can hear their loved ones. So, feel free to talk to your husband. Some people sing to them, some people read.”

I nod. “W-what is he…what does he look like?”

“He’s breathing on his own, so he’s not hooked up to a ventilator. But he does have a feeding tube in. That can be a little jarring when you walk in.” She pauses outside room 504. “His head is also wrapped in a bandage from surgery.”

“Thank you.”

My pulse pounds against my neck, my blood pumping so loud, I can hear it in my ears.

I open the door and inch my way into the dimly-lit room, the sound of rhythmic beeping greeting me before the sight of Alexander does.

I clamp my hand over my mouth when I lay eyes on him, my insides twisting in anguish.

My big, beautiful man lies motionless on the bed.

I don’t recognize this version of him, pale and void of the passion and life that makes him who he is.

His dark eyes don’t meet mine.

His lips don’t curve into a smirk.

His hands don’t reach out for me.

Remembering what the nurse told me, I make my way over to the chair beside the bed and lower myself into it.

I clasp his hand between both of mine. “Hi, Alex.” I clear my throat. “It’s me, Aarya. I don’t know if you can hear me, but the nurse said you can. This feels silly talking to you while you’re clearly unconscious.” I roll my eyes, and a lone tear slides down my cheek. “But if there’s a chance you can hear me, I guess I’ll have to try.”

He doesn’t answer, because of course he doesn’t, but I stare at him as if he’ll miraculously open his eyes and ask why I’m crying.

He’d hate to see me cry.

“You promised me.” My voice shakes as one tear turns into two. “You said there would be no bad surprises.”

And then the floodgates open. I lay my head on his lifeless hand on the bed, and I let it all out.

Please come back to me, Alex.