The whistle blew.
Steeler fell on top of Ike.
A skate blade flashed.
A sharp pain shot through Ike’s arm.
Shocked, he stared at the cut that had gone through both his jersey and his protector. A thin red line marred the skin beneath.
Around him, players peeled off and got to their feet.
“Crap, man. I’m sorry,” Steeler said as he helped Ike up.
“Are you okay?” a linesman asked.
Ike nodded, but the pain in his arm worsened. “I think I’d better get this looked at.”
He’d barely finished speaking when the cut suddenly widened and blood spurted out.
Ike clamped his other hand on his arm and started to skate to the bench.
He was almost there when his legs went weak. His vision blurred. His legs crumpled.
The arena went silent. Then, there was a collective gasp.
Someone in an Oilers jersey wrapped an arm around his waist. An Ice Cat grabbed him from the other side. Between them, they pulled him to the bench and shoved him through the gate into the care of the trainers.
Stars danced in front of Ike’s eyes as the trainers helped him stumble toward the locker room. Fire burned in his arm. He was vaguely aware of blood, wet and warm, pulsing though his fingers. Bile rose up his throat.
Once in the locker room, he gave up his loose grip on consciousness. As everything faded to black, he wondered just how much bad luck that damn fall had brought him.
“I REALLY APPRECIATE you staying late to get those invoices finished, Carla.” Tracy smiled wearily at her intern, then pushed her chair back from her desk and stretched. “You’re a star.”
Carla snapped a rubber band around the stack of envelopes and tossed it into the box, ready for posting the next morning. “No problem. Happy to do it. Now that I know what I’m doing, it’ll be a lot easier next month. I’ll be able to take that job off your hands completely.”
“You’re already proving yourself to be indispensable. I can’t believe you’ve only been here a week.” Tracy turned off her computer and took a sip of her long-cold coffee.
“Is it too early to ask for a permanent job?” Carla asked teasingly.
Tracy laughed. “We’ll see how you do for the rest of the month. There might be room in the budget, if those two new pitches for Helping Hands come off.”
Impressed with the younger woman’s skills and initiative, Tracy was already looking into ways for Carla to stay on once her internship was over. If she continued to be as good as she seemed, she’d be a great addition to the company.
In return, Carla would get invaluable experience at a time when other college graduates were struggling to find even part-time jobs. There were also ways in which Making Your Move could support her if she wanted further education and training. Tracy liked the idea of helping someone else achieve their dream.
“Cool.” Carla pulled on her coat and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Are you sure I can’t do anything else for you before I go?”
“Thanks, but no. I’ve kept you late enough as it is.”
“In that case, I’ll head off. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch the third period of the Cats’ game on TV when I get home.”
“I’m sorry we both had to miss the game. I promise we’ll make the next one.”
Tracy had offered to take Carla, an avid Cats’ fan, to the arena using Maggie’s ticket. Unfortunately, an issue with the Chabals’ air shipment from Paris had meant a frustrating day with long conversations with Tracy’s French counterpart and a lot of chasing around. Although the problem had finally been resolved, it had been midafternoon before she and Carla had been able to tackle the invoices.
“Can’t wait.” The younger woman grinned. “See you tomorrow.”
Carla was barely out the door when Tracy’s phone rang. Her stomach dropped when she heard Maggie’s voice; it sounded like her sister was crying. “What’s wrong, Maggie?”
“You haven’t been watching the game?”
“No. Carla and I have only just finished. Why?”
“There’s been an accident. On the ice. It’s bad.”
“Was it Jake? What happened?” Tracy leaped up and rushed out of her office.
“It wasn’t Jake, sis. It was Ike.”
Tracy’s throat seized. Her knees went weak. She gripped the banister at the top of the stairs.
“Tracy?” Her sister’s voice sounded far away.
“Ike?” she managed to force out. “What? Who?”
“There was a goal-mouth pile-up. He was cut by a skate.”
Tracy clapped a hand to her mouth, feeling slightly nauseous. “Where?”
“His left arm.”
Tracy released a breath. Ike wore special gear that covered his chest and arms. “How’s he doing?”
“They don’t know. He’s in surgery. The team doctor managed to stop the bleeding, so the paramedics could get him to the hospital.”
Tracy frowned. “He was cut that badly, even through his protector?”
“The blade sliced through a weak part in the padding—where it had been patched before—cutting Ike’s forearm almost to the bone.”
“What?” The word came out as a squeak.
“Apparently, his protector was over ten years old. You know how athletes get about their lucky equipment.”
“How can someone so obsessive about everything else be so blasé about his protective gear?” Fear sharpened her tone.
“They all think they’re invincible.”
“Until something happens to them.” Tracy’s mind raced. Ike injured... Cut... Surgery.
Anyone who followed hockey knew that skate injuries to players’ arms and legs—even on one horrific occasion, a player’s neck—were not unusual. There would be stitches by the dozen, months-long recovery periods and scars that would make Frankenstein’s monster look like a wimp.
Her stomach rolled at the thought of Ike suffering. His arm. Probably season-ending. Could even be career-threatening.
She didn’t question the urgency that finally drove her to move. She had to know. To see for herself that he was all right.
“I’m heading to the hospital now.” Tracy ran down the stairs, grabbed her purse and keys and hurried toward her car. “Is anyone with him?”
“Yes. Karina and Rory followed the ambulance, along with Jake’s parents. They should be in the waiting room. The guys will be along when the game is over.”
“They’re still playing?” Tracy shouldn’t be shocked. She knew that’s what generally happened. Still, it didn’t seem right. “How can either team be in any state to think about the game when a player is so seriously injured?”
“I don’t know, but they’ll tough it out. The Cats will try to get a win for Ike.” Maggie sniffed. “Will you call me when you