Breathless, I slip through a maintenance door that leads directly to the back corridors near the medical room. My heart hammers against my ribs as I round the final corner, praying I’m not too late to see him before they take him to the hospital.

The medical staff is too focused on Declan to notice me hovering in the doorway. I pause, briefly stunned by the sight before me—he looks so vulnerable, so unlike the powerful defenseman who commands the ice. One of Declan’s arms is dangling from the stretcher limply. Tears stream down my cheeks at the sight, making it almost impossible to see, and my throat is so tight that it hurts to breathe—because I can’t help fearing the worst. What if he’s got some kind of traumatic brain injury? Or what if he’s so hurt he can never play again?

I know logically that this wasn’t my fault, but I still can’t help thinking that if I hadn’t been in the crowd, if I hadn’t been distracting him, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he’d still be out on the ice defending the net for the Aces. But instead, he’s lying here on a stretcher, breathing but unresponsive.

It hits me in a rush with terrifying clarity that this man has become so much more than just a fling to me. I feel like my whole world exists on the stretcher where the paramedics have him laid out.

Despite the dread in my stomach, I step closer, needing to see him. To know he’s okay. The medics finally realize I’m there when I approach, but they don’t try to stop me.

“Is he…?” The words tumble out of my mouth, but I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. One of the medics smiles sympathetically at me and shakes her head.

“He took a pretty hard hit, but we think he’s going to be okay. We just need to get him checked for any internal bleeding or damage.”

I flinch at the medic’s words because I know that means Declan’s not in the clear yet, but at least my worst fear isn’t going to be coming true tonight. As the medics step back, I extend a trembling, unsteady hand to rest it on his, and just before our fingers touch, his eyes flutter open. It startles me at first, as though somehow my proximity has jarred him back to consciousness.

“Declan?” I breathe out, squeezing his hand. I almost can’t believe his eyes are open after the hit I watched him take. “Are you okay?”