Chapter 190: I’m dying

I looked at the water and then let out a soft sigh.

"I guess I’m prepared as I’ll ever be," I said,

"Then let’s get it over with," Reid murmured against my skin, his hands sliding down to my waist to take my weight as I moved toward the edge of the tub.

​I took a deep, steadying breath, bracing myself as I lowered my legs into the freezing water. The ice slush hit my skin like a thousand needle pricks, the brutal, biting cold instantly violently chasing away every last trace of sleep.

A sharp gasp caught in my throat, my jaw locking tight as the temperature slammed into my system, violently numbing the deep aches in my hips and lower back.

​Reid dropped to his knees right beside the tub, his hand immediately coming up to cup the back of my neck. His large palm was a solid, burning anchor against the freezing water, his thumb rubbing firm, warm circles against my skin to keep me grounded.

​"Focus on my voice, Kain," Reid rasped, his grey eyes locked on mine, tight with a mixture of raw panic and fierce concentration. "In through your nose, slow out through your mouth. Control the shock. You’ve got this."

​I gritted my teeth, forcing my chest to expand, dragging air into my lungs until the initial violent shivering settled into a heavy, suspended numbness. The inflammation in my joints receded under the freezing pressure, leaving my lower body feeling mercifully weightless.

​"See?" Reid whispered softly, his thumb smoothing over my neck, his gaze never leaving my face for a single second. "You’re doing great, Cap. Just a few more minutes, and we’re done."

I’ve been doing this for years but there’s just no getting used to it especially since my body is so torn apart right now.

A few minutes... I just have to handle this for a few more minutes... God, I’m dying.

The three minutes in the ice bath felt like an eternity, but with Reid’s hand anchored firmly to the back of my neck, I made it through without my body panicking.

The second the timer on his phone buzzed, Reid practically hauled me out of the freezing water, wrapping me in a warm, dry towel before I could even object.

He dried me off with meticulous care, helped me pull on my clothes, and when it was time for practice, he drove us straight to the Serpent’s facility for day two of my recovery protocol.

​The arena was already humming with activity when we arrived, but our routine was set. Reid headed straight for the ice to lead the first-line drills under Devin’s watchful eye, while I directed my limping steps toward the physical therapy suite.

​"Morning, Cap," Nate called out, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as I pulled off my shirt—careful to keep the heavy adhesive patches intact—and settled face down on the padded massage table. "How’s the body feeling after the hot-and-cold rotation?"

​"A hell of a lot better than yesterday," I rasped into the headrest as Nate pressed his palms into my lower back.

​"I can tell," Nate replied, his thumbs sinking into my lumbar spine. "The deep-tissue inflammation has dropped significantly. Your lower back isn’t locked up like a vault anymore, and those hip flexors are actually yielding to the pressure."

​He worked his way down my hamstrings, his hands gliding firm and practiced over my sore muscles. When his palms brushed over the fading, yellowish bruises on my upper inner thighs, he gave a light, approving grunt.

​"Bruising on the adductors is fading nicely, too," Nate noted, completely unbothered as he applied another layer of cooling analgesic gel to the area. "Whatever knee-on-knee contact you took, your body’s flushing out the lactic acid fast. You’ll definitely be loose enough for full-contact drills tomorrow morning."

​"Good," I muttered, my fingers gripping the vinyl table as the icy-hot sensation worked deep into my joints. "Because sitting out while the team skates makes my skin crawl."

​"That’s why you’re the Captain," Nate chuckled dryly, wrapping a fresh warm towel over my lower back to let the gel absorb. "Devin was asking about you earlier. I told him you’re right on track for Thursday’s skate. Just take it easy on the off-ice weights today, alright?"

​"Will do. Thanks, Nate."

​Left alone in the quiet suite with the heat pack settling into my spine, I listened to the muffled symphony echoing from the rink next door—the sharp crunch of blades cutting through ice, the heavy crack of pucks against the boards, and Devin’s whistle piercing the air.

​Dominating those sounds was the distinct, furious rhythm of Reid’s skating. I could hear him driving the offensive line, executing every play with lethal precision and an unhinged, protective ferocity that echoed clear through the drywall.

I closed my eyes, the soothing heat on my lower back working in tandem with the steady, distant thrum of Reid’s skates.

With my body exhausted and the physical tension finally ebbing, I let the darkness pull me under into a light, restful nap.

​Two hours slipped by in a heartbeat.

​I woke up to the soft click of the door and the immediate, cooling wash of frozen pine cutting through the warm, eucalyptus-scented air.

I blinked against the dim light of the physio suite, slowly lifting my head from the face cradle as Reid walked in. He had already showered, his hair slightly damp and combed back, wearing his clean team hoodie. But despite the fresh wash, his scent was still sharp, with a leftover surge of adrenaline.

​"Wake up, Cap," Reid murmured softly, stepping right up to the side of the table. He reached out, his warm palm resting gently against the side of my neck, his thumb caressing my cheekbone in that private, possessive way he only ever used when we were completely alone.

​"How was practice?" I rasped out, my voice thick with sleep as I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

My lower back held only a faint, manageable ache, and my hips felt significantly looser than they had that morning.

​"Brutal. Devin was breathing down our necks," Reid said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained fiercely intense as he tracked my every movement. "We ran the aggressive 1-3-1 offensive zone setup. We tweaked the breakout pass on the left wing—leaving an open lane for a trailing center."