The crowd broke out into applause and a few cheers. Watching their captain skate out of the rink, mostly of his own accord, was a hell of a lot better than watching him being rolled away on a stretcher or carried out on a backboard.
Dylan's eyes were glassy and he seemed dazed. He didn't say anything as they plodded down the hall to the training room. The doctor redirected them to a room off the side of it. The "quiet room" was used for concussion protocol.
They helped Dylan inside, and then as much as he hated to leave his friend, he and Rod had to exit the room so the doctor could examine Dylan.
The only thing to do now was to shower and wait for word. And, watch the game on the TV in the locker room.
Anger and frustration still surged through his veins. Leo yanked off his jersey and then his skates and pads. On the other side of the room, Rod did the same.
Leo threw his jersey into the bin for the equipment managers to handle. "What the hell? I just want to know why. There wasn't any reason to go after Dylan like that. Way after the play. Hell, the game had fucking stopped."
He stalked to the showers. The water didn't help wash away his anger. His hands were throbbing, red and raw from jamming them into the thug's face and body. His chest ached from the punches he'd sustained and his worry about Dylan.
Back in the locker room, he pulled on his clothes and checked his phone. Texts from his brothers and his dad filled his screen.
Rod dropped onto the bench and he held out his phone. "Watch the replay."
On screen, the awful attack played out again.
Leo rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could scrub that scene from his memory as easily. "I still don't get why he did it. He and Dylan didn't play a single shift against each other tonight."
"They're in a must-win situation though, fighting for a spot in the playoffs. They have to win all of their remaining games. That's three weeks' worth. Maybe they thought they'd have a better chance to win tonight if they eliminated our leading scorer."
"Maybe. But that's just stupid. Celek has almost as many goals as Dylan. And Kreider and Shore aren't that far behind. Why single out Dylan?"
Rod shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't like it. Bertuzzi is a second-rate player and a piece of shit human being."
"No argument there." Leo glanced at Dylan's locker. "How long do you think he'll be in with the doc?"
"Who knows?" Rod stood and paced the room. Worry rolled off him in waves. "I know he's got another concussion. Did you see his eyes? And how he acted?"
"The doctor will take care of him. He's getting the best care."
"Arielle didn't come to the game tonight. She had to babysit her nephew. I need to let her know. My parents went away for the weekend for their anniversary. Even if they weren't able to watch the game, I know my dad would've had the text alerts turned on. I haven't heard from them yet. How the hell do I call them with this now?"
Leo set his phone down. He was just as worried about how Kelsey was handling the situation. She'd been in the building and would've seen it all. He needed to find her. "Rod, whatever happens tonight with Dylan, I'll help. Whether it's driving you guys home or going with you to the hospital if Dylan needs to do that, or making phone calls, I'll be there."
Rod leaned against his brother's locker and slowly let out a breath. "Thanks."
"I know every guy on the team would offer the same thing. Celek, Kreider, and Vince will insist on helping too."
"Yeah. I know." The words were so quiet and Rod's expression so bleak. He needed something to take his mind off of Dylan.
"You should ice your hand." That was easy, something Leo could help with, even if he hadn't been able to keep Dylan safe on the ice.
Rod shrugged and then eyed Leo's hands. "You should ice both of yours."
"What can I say? Bertuzzi had a hard head. Come on." He led the way into the training room.
Blair, the team's assistant athletic trainer, met them by the door. "How are your hands?"
"Any word on Dylan?" Leo carefully rotated his hand and opened and closed his fist.
"Not yet."
Rod held up his swollen hand. "Can I get some ice? Leo needs some too."
She led them to one of the training tables but seemed distracted as she checked their hands and gave them ice packs. Leo frowned at Rod. Blair was never anything less than fully engaged in her job.
Rod cleared his throat. "Blair, I don't know what's going to happen with Dylan tonight, but once we do, can you come by the house tonight or tomorrow? I'd feel better if you checked on him."
She nodded. "I'll be there."
After she left, Rod gave him a half-smile. "There's something going on between her and Dylan. They say they're only friends, but I think it's more."
"Goalie and match-maker, hmm? I'm impressed."
Rod threw his ice pack at Leo's head. "She'll hear you."
Laughing felt good, but unnatural and inappropriate given the seriousness of the situation with Dylan. "Sorry."
The game played on the two TVs that hung on the wall. The Bedlam were down by a goal. Rod started yelling coaching suggestions to the backup goalie.
Leo shook his head. "You know Mintner can't hear you, right?"
"Shut up. Like you're not doing the same thing to everyone else."
"In my head, yeah. Not out loud like some lunatic armchair quarterback."
Rod raised one eyebrow. "We play hockey. There isn't a quarterback."
Unable to keep another laugh from huffing out, Leo grinned at him. "Were you always this much of a smart ass?"
"I haven't had any coffee in three hours."
"Uh oh, caffeine addict. Withdraw
