We still have an entire period to play, but I don’t give a damn. I don’t hesitate. I just drop my stick to the ice and bolt into the stands, pushing past fans and leaping over seats, desperate to get to her as quickly as I can.

When I finally reach her side, she’s sprawled out on her stomach across the concrete stairs, totally unconscious and unresponsive.

“Hannah? Hannah!” I try to rouse her, gently turning her onto her back and brushing the hair from her face, but she doesn’t move, making my gut twist with fear. Footsteps thunder up the stairs behind me, and I whirl to find Coach Dunaway making a beeline for us, his face white and taut with fear.

Hannah mumbles and stirs, and I whip my head back around to look down at her, but she’s already out again. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but she needs to see a doctor immediately.

“We have to get her to the hospital,” I tell Dunaway as he kneels beside me. “She’s not waking up.”

He stares at Hannah, his expression torn. A coach can’t just leave mid-game, no matter what—we both know the rules. His eyes flick back to the ice where the rest of the team is watching, then back to his daughter, and I can see that he’s just as worried about her as I am.

“You finish the game,” I say quickly. “I’ve got this. Find an alternate for me. I’ll go with Hannah to the hospital.”

Dunaway hesitates, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. Something in my expression must convince him, because he gives a short nod, still looking pained at the idea of letting her out of his sight.

“Go. Keep me updated.”

“She won’t be alone for a second,” I tell him, “I promise.”

He nods again, and in a matter of seconds, a team of medics swarm us. The last thing I want to do is let Hannah go, because I don’t trust anyone to take care of her as fiercely as I would, but one of the medics rests a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“I know you’re worried, but we need to do our jobs. We’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says. Reluctantly, I pass her over to him, and he instantly starts checking Hannah’s pulse and other vitals. I kick off my skates without taking my eyes off the woman slumped in his arms, leaving them and my helmet right there on the stairs. The gear doesn’t matter—only she does.

“I’m riding with her,” I tell the lead medic as he and the other EMT load her onto a stretcher, my tone making it clear this isn’t up for discussion.

He gives me a slightly shocked once-over—still in my jersey and pads—but then he nods. “Alright. Let’s go.”