His frustration with himself is obvious as he trades off with Randy. This time Randy doesn’t score either. I’m not sure whether this is good or bad. Chicago really needs the win. With three minutes left in the game, Alex returns.

He gains control of the puck right away, flying down the ice with singular focus. He wants this so badly; it’s painful to watch. He skates around the players, shifting the puck as he goes. He’s so absorbed in getting close to the net, he doesn’t see Cockburn coming at him from the right.

The guys were talking about him the other day. He and Lance are fighting for the top spot in the league for number of penalties and most fights. He makes Alex look like a saint. He’s also huge.

Alex sees him as he gets within shooting range, but Toronto defense is on it, blocking his shot. He passes to Darren, and switches course, skating behind the net.

That’s when it happens. Cockburn hooks Alex’s skate and rams him from behind, sending him head first into the boards.

The crack echoes through the arena. I’m out of my seat before Alex hits the ice. My beer slips from my fingers, and the contents splash over my legs. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Rage expands and consumes the Chicago fans, blanketing the arena in an explosive outcry. And I scream right along with them.

Darren drops his stick and skates to Alex as a ref does the same.

He’s not moving.

Alex isn’t moving.

And still I scream. Like I’m on fire. Like the world is ending. Like I’ve gone insane. I jump and grab for the edge of the plexiglas barrier that prevents me from getting to him. I’m too short. It doesn’t mean I don’t keep trying.

People converge on Alex like metal to a magnet until I can’t see him anymore. Then Randy jumps the boards, stickless. He and Buck skate away from Alex. I don’t understand why, until I follow their path to mayhem incarnate.

Lance has Cockburn on the ice, and he’s beating the living shit out of him. When he brings his fist up, it’s a blur of red. Vibrant splatters dot the ice. Buck catches his fist on the next upswing, and Randy grabs Lance around the waist, hauling him off. Cockburn’s face is covered in blood. He might spit out teeth as he rolls to his side.

I want to feel something other than vicious gratitude for Lance’s aggression, but I can’t.

When Lance tries to go for Randy, Randy gets him down on the ice and holds him there with his forearm on the back of his neck. They knock helmets. It reminds me of fighting bulls with horns clashing, except it’s helmets and hockey instead. All of this takes no more than a few seconds.

I’m still screaming and trying to scale the barrier when an arm clamps around my waist. “Put me down! He’s not moving! I can’t see him! I need him!” My words come out in a stream of nonsense through my blubbering.

“Calm down, Violet.” Sidney’s deep voice is loud in my ear. “Calm down. We need to go, and we can’t do that if you’re melting down.”

“Vi, honey, we need to go now,” my mom says gently, but firmly.

I stop fighting and screaming, realizing they’re right. I can’t get to him this way. We have to go around. I’m too panicked to do anything but take Charlene’s and my mom’s offered arms.

I need to get to Alex.

My stomach feels like the contents are at risk of reappearing. Sidney leads the way, and I stumble along behind him. I’m not really carrying my own weight. It’s my mom and Charlene who are managing.

Sunny’s terror-stricken voice comes from behind me, along with Lily’s broken soothing. I crane my neck for a glimpse of anything, but I still can’t see Alex. Paramedics flood the ice. Most of them go to where Alex is surrounded, but one heads for Cockburn. He’s moving, so he’s not the primary concern.

Sidney pulls his scout card when we reach security. The closer we get to Alex, the more frantic I am. I push free of my mom and Charlene, but one of the security guards grabs me by the arm before I can get anywhere.

“Let go of me! I’m his fiancée!” I hold up my hand with the monster diamond.

“I can’t let you on the ice.” His face is hard.

I pull at his hand, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. His fingers are like steel. He’s not hurting me, but he could, and I could hurt myself if I can’t calm down.

But I’m not calm. I’m desperate and terrified. My voice is hoarse from all the screaming. “I need to know he’s okay!” Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision as I gesture toward the ice. The closest I can get is the plexiglas, so I press myself against it and watch while the paramedics stabilize Alex’s neck with one of those brace things.

He’s too far away. I have too many questions. I’m so scared. “Why are they doing that? Why isn’t he moving?” I look to Sidney for answers, but he doesn’t have any.

Sunny folds me in an embrace, and I realize she’s as scared as I am. He’s her brother. He’s my life. And we have no idea what his injuries are or how bad it is. They lift him on to the stretcher and wheel him toward us.

“Out of the way!” the paramedic yells.

Sunny and I are pulled aside. I get the briefest glimpse of Alex. Of his ashen face. Of the laceration cutting across the bridge of his nose. The trail of smeared blood across his cheek.

All of those things terrify me, but nothing compares to the crushing fear that swallows me at his complete and utter stillness.

And then we’re running. Sidney’s practically carrying me as we follow the EMTs. I’m gripping Sunny’s hand as we go. I’m so desperate to touch him. Be near him. Feel his chest move and make sure he’s breathing. Flashing lights greet us as the doors burst open. They’re ready for him, lifting the stretcher into the ambulance, Alex’s limp body rocking with the movement.