Chapter 187: I Can Walk

When I finally opened my eyes, the physio room was shrouded in dim light. The hum of the ventilation system was the only sound left inside the quiet medical suite—the distant, sharp noise of practice on the ice had long since died down.

​My body felt heavy, completely melted into the vinyl table. For the first time in what felt like days, the unrelenting tension in my lower back had eased into a dull, manageable ache, though my mind remained weighed down by the quiet, terrifying reality resting in my core.

​Click.

​The heavy door swung open, the soft creak breaking the silence.

​I didn’t even need to lift my head from the face cradle to know who it was. The rich, cool scent of frozen pine flooded the sterile room, instantly cutting through the sharp smell of eucalyptus and analgesic cream.

​"Still asleep, Cap?" a low, quiet voice murmured.

​Heavy, familiar footsteps crossed the floor, slowing down as Reid approached the side of the massage table.

He was showered, his damp blonde hair brushed back, wearing a simple grey hoodie and sweatpants. But beneath his clean scent, the lingering edge of exhaustion and raw, protective Alpha pheromones still hummed quietly in the air.

​He had skated until his lungs burned, just as Devin had ordered.

​Reid reached out, his warm hand gently resting over the small of my back, right over the warm towel Nate had left on me. His fingers spread wide, carefully applying a grounding, steady pressure that made my entire frame relax into his touch.

​"Practice is over," Reid whispered, his voice soft, dropping into that private, intimate register meant only for me. "Devin ran us through the wringer. First line is sharp for Game 2."

​"I heard you," I rasped out, my voice thick with sleep as I slowly turned my head in the face cradle to look up at him. "You were checking the boards like you had a grudge against the glass."

​A tiny, faint smirk tugged at the corner of Reid’s lips, but it didn’t reach his grey eyes. His gaze dropped to my pale face, scanning the dark circles under my eyes with an aching, tender worry. He leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead, his thumb lightly caressing my cheekbone.

​"I was keeping my promise," Reid murmured softly, his thumb tracing down to the edge of my jaw. "Carrying the weight so my Captain can rest."

​I closed my eyes for a brief second, leaning my cheek into his warm palm. "Nate said I need a hot bath tonight, and an ice bath tomorrow morning." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

​"I’ll draw the bath for you when we get home," Reid promised without a second of hesitation. He slid his hands under my arms, gently helping me push myself up from the table into a sitting position.

​My hips throbbed sharply as my feet hit the cold floor, a small hitch catching in my throat, but before I could wobble, Reid’s broad arms wrapped securely around my waist, taking most of my weight against his chest. He stood there holding me, his chin resting against the top of my head, letting me anchor myself against him in the quiet, empty room.

​"Let’s go home, Kain," Reid whispered against my hair. "Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you out to the truck?" He asked quietly, his large hands lingering on my waist just a fraction longer than necessary before he forced himself to step back, giving me space.

​We were still inside the arena’s medical wing. Even with the physio suite empty, coaches and stray arena personnel could pass through the hallway at any second.

I pulled the collar of my athletic shirt back up over my throat, double-checking that the thick adhesive patches were fully hidden, before forcing my sore legs to take my full weight.

​"I can walk," I rasped, straightening my spine and smoothing the front of my shirt. "Let’s go."

​We stepped out into the main corridor, heading toward the back exit. But as we rounded the corner near the locker rooms, the heavy double doors pushed open, and a crowd of my teammates spilled into the hallway. They were showered, bags slung over their shoulders, heading out for the evening.

​The moment they spotted me, the boisterous chatter quieted, and a handful of them crowded around.

​"Hey, Cap!" one of the rookies called out, scanning my face with genuine concern. "How’s the hip? Nate get it loose for you?"

​"Looking a little pale, Evans," another veteran chimed in, clapping my shoulder lightly—though Reid’s eyes flared dark beside me, his frame tensing instantly at the contact. "Devin said you might sit out full contact until Thursday. You gonna be good for Game 2?"

​"I’ll be on the ice Thursday," I said, my voice slipping back into that stern, unwavering Captain’s tone that left no room for doubt. "Just a jammed flexor. Keep running the line drills like Devin said, and don’t slack off on film study tonight."

​"Got it, Cap. Get some rest."

​As the group moved past us toward the exit, my eyes flicked to the back of the pack. Russo and Miller were trailing behind the rest of the guys.

They didn’t push forward to ask about my health. They didn’t make small talk. Russo just caught my eye, gave another subtle, heavy nod, and Miller offered a quiet, respectful lift of his hand before both of them walked out into the parking bay.

​Quiet. Controlled. Holding the line without saying a single word.

​Once the double doors hissed shut behind the team and the hallway fell silent again, I leaned slightly toward Reid as we walked toward his truck.

​"Were Russo and Miller weird during practice today?" I asked under my breath.

​Reid glanced down at me, adjusting the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. He thought about it for a beat, his jaw relaxing slightly. "Honestly? Didn’t even notice. They skated hard, hit their marks, and executed the plays. If they were acting off, I would’ve caught it."

​I let out a slow, quiet breath. If Reid—in his hyper-vigilant, protective Alpha state—didn’t spot anything wrong with their performance on the ice, then Russo and Miller were handling the truth the best way hockey players knew how: by keeping their heads down and playing the game.

​We made it out to the car, the crisp evening air hitting my face as Reid unlocked the doors and helped me slide into the warmth of the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s side, killing the blaring radio before he even shifted into drive.

​As the car rolled out of the subterranean garage and onto the quiet city streets, Reid reached across the center console, his large hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together over my lap.

​"You hungry?" Reid asked softly, his grey eyes flicking over to me before cutting back to the road. "What do you want to eat? I can order whatever you want, or make something quick at the penthouse."

​I leaned my head back against the leather headrest, my stomach suddenly rumbling at the thought of food now that the heavy nausea had receded a bit. I would rather have him order than make something. For all we know, he might forget he has something cooking and her lost in my lips.

​"Lasagna," I murmured, my raspy voice small in the quiet cabin. "Or macaroni."

​Reid’s lips twitched, a warm, soft look breaking through the tight strain on his face as he squeezed my hand. "Lasagna it is, Cap. I’ll get the good place near the arena to deliver it right when we get home, and then I’m throwing you straight into that hot bath."

A faint, quiet breath slipped past my lips at his response, my fingers tightening in his as the car glided through the evening traffic and I chuckled.

"What’s funny, Cap?"

​"Oh, nothing," I murmured, my eyes tracking the blurred yellow glow of the streetlights along the highway. "It’s just... if you step into that kitchen to cook, you’ll get distracted halfway through, forget the stove is on, and try to kiss me instead. You’re already not that great of a cook. I’m not risking burnt food tonight, McCoy."

​Reid let out a low, gravelly chuckle—the first genuine, untethered sound of amusement to break through his heavy, dark mood all day. His thumb stroked back and forth over the back of my hand, his grip warm and steady against my pulse.

​"I’ve improved my cooking skills, alright? And I wouldn’t get distracted," Reid argued smoothly, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips completely betrayed him. "I’m extremely focused. But if my Captain happens to be standing in my kitchen looking vulnerable in one of my oversized hoodies... well, I have priorities."

​"Your priorities are supposed to be Game 2," I rasped out softly, a small, genuine smile finally cracking through the exhaustion etched into my face.

​"You are my Game 2, Kain," Reid replied, his voice dropping into that low, fierce register that always made my chest ache with a dangerous, terrifying warmth. "You’re my whole damn season."

​I didn’t answer. I just closed my eyes, letting the quiet hum of the engine and the solid weight of his hand wrap around me like an armor.

Mine... I like the sound of that.