Chapter 2 2
Roman's POV
"It has to be a clean strike," my brother told me. "No mistakes. Grip your hockey stick firmly, don't fret, pick your spot, and then shoot."
I nodded and concentrated on the puck, then struck as hard as I could, but he saved the shot easily.
"How do you keep saving it?" I groaned, frustrated. "I swear to God, your gloves must be magnetic or something."
Aaron laughed. He walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You'll get there someday, Roman. Don't worry."
"Yeah, right," I murmured, rolling my eyes. "Three-time CHC champion and two-time MVP. I'm definitely going to be able to top that."
He guffawed again, and the scene changed.
Suddenly, we were no longer on the hockey rink but in a car. It was night, and we were on a one-way highway bridge. The car sped dangerously. My brother stepped on the brakes frantically, his eyes wild with terror, trying to get the out-of-control car to stop, but he couldn't. The brakes seemed locked up. The car spun freely on the road, and all we could do was wait and hope for it to stop.
This is the end, I thought to myself. This is how we die.
And then the car suddenly screeched to a stop. But before we could even breathe a sigh of relief, we were blinded by the full headlights of a truck coming straight for us.
It was too late to do anything. I heard but didn't feel as the truck crashed into us: there was a fiery explosion, my brother's scream of terror, the sound of bodies twisting in ways they shouldn't....
"Roman!"
I snapped awake and it felt as though I'd been doused in cold water. Someone pulled back the curtain, blinding me with the bright rays of sunshine.
"Jesus, who the hell is that?" I asked groggily, shielding my eyes from the sunlight.
"Good morning, Roman," a female voice called out.
I blinked rapidly and a woman came into view. It was Harmony, the intern who'd been assigned to my injury case.
"Don't you knock?" I asked angrily. "You just barged into my ward without permission."
"I do have permission to come in here as I wish," Harmony replied. "This is the school's clinic, not your hotel room."
She placed a couple of medications on the bed along with an ice pack.
"You were mumbling and writhing in your sleep," she noted. "Bad dreams?"
"It's none of your business," I snapped at her.
"As long as you're in that bed and in this room, everything that happens to you is my business, Mr. Foster," she replied. "I have to make sure there's nothing happening that could stall your recovery process."
"Why are you here anyway?" I asked. "I thought you told me to go treat myself. I was hoping I could finally have a real doctor around."
"Believe me, I don't want to be the one treating you any more than you do," Harmony sighed. "It's as Dr. Sherman already said. You are, unfortunately for both of us, stuck with me for the entirety of your recovery process. So it'll be in both our best interests that we get this over with and hopefully never see each other again."
"Ditto," I mumbled.
"So, how's your leg today?" Harmony asked while scribbling something on a clipboard.
"Painful, as you can imagine," I shifted my behind against the bed. "Or maybe you couldn't. You don't look like you've gotten any serious injury before."
"What about my appearance makes you assume that?" Harmony asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know. You just look weak, I guess." I murmured, shrugging. But she looked quite the opposite of weak. She had the kind of body that could make a man do crazy things.
"I've suffered two fractures before, actually." Harmony replied. "I broke my wrist playing basketball when I was eleven. Then when I was nineteen, I fractured my toe in a biking accident. That's two fractures; one more than you, Mr. Foster."
"Yeah, okay," I rolled my eyes. "Light work when compared to a busted kneecap, though. You used to play basketball?"
"Yeah, I used to," Harmony said. "I was part of the middle school female basketball team."
"You probably quit because the bench got tired of supporting you more than your own legs did," I sneered.
Harmony closed her eyes at my remark. I knew she could tell I was trying to bait her into another fit of rage, but she wasn't going to let me. Her stubbornness surprised me.
"No, actually. I had other dreams," she said. "Not all of us are happy being in the spotlight like you, Roman. Enough with the stories, though. I need to examine your leg."
She attempted to unstrap my leg, but I yelled, "Ouch! Be careful, will you?"
"Not so strong now, eh? Mr. tough guy," Harmony smirked at me.
"It's painful as hell." I retorted.
"But I need to unstrap your leg, so hold still!" Harmony insisted.
"Just be gentle, okay?"
She glared at me. "I am being gentle."
"No, you're not, goddammit!"
"Stop squealing!"
I writhed in pain as Harmony removed the leg strap and unhooked my leg from its elevated position.
"God, when I catch the guy who did this to me, I'm going to choke him to death," I groaned, my eyes shut in pain as Harmony began to massage my knee.
"Jesus, just hold still, Mr Foster!" Harmony ordered again.
"Feels like my leg is on fire."
"Hold still!" She pressed down on my knee and I gasped and kicked out, accidentally hitting her across the face with my other leg. With a shriek of pain, Harmony fell to the ground.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" She yelled, picking herself up from the floor. There was a look of murderous rage in her eyes.
"I told you to be gentle with the leg!" I retorted.
"You kicked me across my face, you dunce! God, I hate this job!"
She turned away and spat red onto the floor.
"Is that... is that blood?" I asked in a softer tone.
"What do you think?" Harmony fumed.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, watching her shoulders drop in defeat. "You should get that wound checked out."
"Yeah, no shit, Hockey Boy!" She roared at me, then turned around and stormed out of the room.