Whatever. “This shift was supposed to be a cakewalk.”
“This never happens…” He trailed off as a man in slacks and a Rough Riders warm-up jacket stepped onto the ice in dress shoes. With a referee on either side of him, he held their arms for support as he jogged across the ice to the group huddled near the arena’s far wall. “That must be the team doc.”
Before Eden could ask what happened—hoping this was all a dog-and-pony show for the fans—the announcer spoke.
“Beckett Croft took a hard fall in a scuffle with the Ducks’ Andrew Decker.”
Jeering rumbled through the crowd.
“Look.” Gabe pointed to the Jumbotron where a replay flashed over the screen.
The announcer continued to commentate. Eden didn’t understand the hockey language, but she did understand fight language—unfortunately so.
On the screen, the guy in blue rammed the guy in white against the glass with so much malice and intention and force, Eden’s stomach coiled into a knot. White retaliated, shoving back Blue, who then tripped over White’s skate. Blue hit the ice tailbone first.
Eden tensed and winced. Her hand instinctively moved from her hip to the base of her spine. Then White followed Blue to the ice and shoved him back. Blue’s head hit so hard, his helmet bounced. Referees stepped in, blocking sight of the players on the video.
Eden crossed her arms, trying to squeeze ugly feelings from her body. “Did I already mention that I hate hockey?”
Gabe didn’t answer. He was riveted to the replay.
“Guess there’s job security in perpetual human stupidity,” she muttered.
“Bet he shakes it off,” Gabe said, never looking away from the ice. “He’s one of the toughest in the league.”
Born and raised in Philadelphia, Gabe knew all about these East Coast winter sports and was a rabid Rough Riders fan. When their employer, Capital Ambulance, won the contract to transport Rough Riders players to the hospital in the event of an emergency, Gabe had jumped at the chance to staff as many of those shifts as he could grab. And then started begging, borrowing, and stealing the rest.
After working for the company for nearly two years, Eden had seniority, but she’d taken a huge step back and let the others claim these light-duty runs. She didn’t need any unnecessary exposure to violence or reminders of how it could slip into a life and ruin everything.
She heaved a sigh and looked at the scoreboard but couldn’t tell what any of the numbers meant. “How long until this is over? I’ve still got a lot of studying to do.”
“Excuse me.” Gabe and Eden turned. A man in his mid-forties came toward them from the tunnel. He wore nice slacks with a dress shirt, a tie, and a royal-blue warm-up jacket emblazoned with the Rough Riders’ logo. “I’m Paul, one of the Rough Riders’ assistant coaches. Doc Danbar wants Beckett to go in.”
Perfect. Eden heaved a breath but shoved her midterm to the back of her mind.
“Fine.” She returned to the gurney, grabbed the rails, and pushed it forward, then took one handle of the backboard and picked up the C-collar. “Let’s do this.”
The thought of having fifteen thousand pairs of eyes on her while she packaged this so-called elite athlete onto the backboard and then the gurney gave her butterflies. But, hell, she had to do what she had to do, right? And the sooner they dropped this loser at the emergency room, the sooner she could go home and find some peace to study.
She glanced at Paul. “Do you have those grates for our shoes so we can walk on the—”
The crowd broke into cheers so loud, the noise drowned her words. She glanced toward the glass and found this Beckett guy gliding to the sidelines with the help of the team doctor and a referee.
“What the hell?” Eden threw the hand holding the C-collar out to the side. Her accusatory gaze shot to Paul. “He shouldn’t be on his feet. He could have a spine injury.”
A smile broke out over Paul’s face. “No one keeps Beckett Croft down if he doesn’t want to stay down.”
Eden had dealt with her share of uncooperative and even combative patients over the years, but she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with one tonight.
If the idiot wanted to risk becoming a paraplegic, who was she to try to save him from himself?
She tossed the board and the C-collar back onto the gurney. “Where do we pick him up?”
/> “Locker room.” Paul gestured for them to follow and started into the tunnel.
Gabe took control of the gurney, and Eden fell in beside him.
“Start your mental recorder,” she told Gabe under her breath. “We don’t need some big shot coming back later, blaming us because this Beckett guy’s in a wheelchair. I want every detail of this call in the report.”