Grinder (Seattle Sharks 1)

Despite knowing that, her words still stung every inch of my skin.

I knew I’d never be Lettie’s mother, never be the one who had felt her move and grow inside me…but she’d grown in my heart until we were so connected I could sense when her moods shifted, when her thoughts drifted to the darkness of her mother’s abandonment, when she worried about her daddy, and when she cried out of anger instead of sadness.

“No. I won’t. But you’ll never know your daughter like I do.”

Helen flinched as if I’d smacked her. The emotion quickly passed, instantly replaced with the venom I was more accustomed to. “You’re pathetic, Bailey. Why don’t you go get a family of your own, instead of trying to steal mine?”

And the gloves come off.

“Hard to steal what you left abandoned and alone.” My fingers trembled from the rising adrenaline pumping in my blood. The boys on the ice raced against the ticking clock, trying desperately to get another goal in before the next period, and the more Helen spoke, the more I wanted to throat punch her.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said. “Keep assuring yourself you belong with them. But realize, whenever you look at her, you’ll see me. She’s got my lips. My ears. And she without a doubt has my smile. She’ll never be yours. No matter what you do.”

Tears filled the backs of my eyes, making the players scrambling on the ice become shiny around the edges. I sucked in a sharp breath, steeling myself against her words.

“Exactly,” she said, standing up with her hand clutched around her purse. “Like I said, pathetic. I just pray it doesn’t rub off on Scarlett, but seeing her reaction to me yesterday at her party…I fear it may already have.”

That’s it, bitch. One second I was sitting, the next I was a centimeter from her face, the fans behind us yelling for us to sit down. “Say whatever you want about me but don’t you dare utter one negative thing about Lettie or I will make sure you never do again.”

She arched a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at me. “Really, nanny? What are you going to do?”

“I—“

The crowd collectively gasped around us almost in synchronization with a loud crunch and smack against the board nearest us, the sound killing my words. My heart lurched and my stomach dropped. I hadn’t seen it but I’d fucking felt it.

“Gage,” I whispered, my feet moving before my mind caught up. I hit the floor, my Chucks squeaking on the ground as I rushed to the glass, looking down through the partition.

Adkins was on top of Gage on the ice. Before I could blink Warren hurled him in the opposite direction. The ref’s whistles blew in the distance, barely heard over the all out brawl which broke out a few feet away from where Gage remained, flattened on the ice, his face turned up in sheer agony.

I pressed my hands against the partition, my heart stalling as he moved to grip his shoulder when the paramedics hefted him to cart him off the ice. Fuck!

I glanced at the stadium before bolting out the doors, racing toward the locker room entrance. I made it there in a blink, jerking on the locked double doors. A water boy opened one of them a crack.

“I need to see him!” I said, barely able to catch my breath.

“You’re not allowed back here.” The kid wasn’t more than seventeen and I pressed my lips together, thankful beyond belief that Lettie was with Gage’s mom and didn’t have to see this.

“Forgive me,” I said, shoving past him and stomping into the locker room. Sweat and musk assaulted my senses, the temperature at least ten degrees warmer in here than it had been in the rink. My heart raced as I made my way to the back.

“Gage,” I said, gasping a full breath when I finally set eyes on him stretched out on a table, three men surrounding him.

“Ma’am you’ll have to wait outside,” Mr. Denning, the Shark’s physical therapist said as I approached Gage’s free side.

“I told her that!” The waterboy shouted behind me from where I’d left him near the door.

“She’s fine, Carl,” Gage said to Denning, the strained tone of his voice not lost on my ears. He winced as one of the men poked and tugged on his arm.

I remained silent but took his free hand. They had him shirtless, and while he was glorious to look at, I could only see the pain on his face. The way his eyes clenched as each man took their turn at trying to rotate his arm, or pushed against his shoulder blade with their knuckles.

“Did she see?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“No.” I shook my head and squeezed his hand. “She’s with your mother, getting spoiled with treats I’m sure.”

“Good.” He leaned his head back against the table as they laid him down, working over him and muttering things in hushed tones I couldn’t make out.

The skin around the scars from his surgery was already turning from angry-red to depressing-purple and the rage I’d had while speaking with Helen amplified to an all-time high. I trembled, the tears I’d felt evaporating from the heat of adrenaline and the desire to murder Adkins with my bare hands.

Another part of me calculated the odds of Gage recovering fully from another surgery, how long he would be benched, and if he’d keep his spot this time. I wondered how to help him heal properly, and what it would mean if he never got to play again. The worry consumed me as I watched him lay there, flinching and wincing, all the while trying to conceal the pain from the people inspecting him.

He couldn’t hide it from me though, or the fear that coated his eyes, his thoughts no doubt pouring over exactly what I had been.

Please don’t let it be torn again.

Denning gently helped Gage to a sitting position. “Your rotator cuff took another bad hit, but it’s not ripped or shattered. My guess is bruised. We should get you to the hospital and do an x-ray to be certain. I don’t want to take any chances with you. Not after the last time.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. If it wasn’t torn or broken we could recover from it. Quickly.

“You saying I can’t go finish this game?” Gage asked, a smirk on his pained face.

Denning shook his head, motioning toward the other two men, who quickly shuffled out of the room. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, McPherson.”

“How long?” Gage asked.

“Not sure yet. Have to see what comes back on the x-rays. Optimistically? You’ll only be out a game.”