"I'm gonna stop by and see the guys first." It didn't matter that he'd see some of the guys when the returned to the hotel for the lull between the morning skate and when they would return to the arena for pre-game. He needed to see them all together as a team.
Coach raised one brow. "Just make sure you stay off the ice."
"I'll only go as far as the bench."
When he reached the rink, his gut twisted. His teammates were on the ice, where he was supposed to be. All at once, he was transported back to the first practice he viewed after his concussion. The isolation had sucked then, and it sucked even more now.
Vince spotted him and waved.
Dylan shook himself out of the memory and walked to the bench. All of the guys had noticed him and had skated over.
Rod pushed off his mask and his face creased in concern. "He didn't clear you."
"No."
A mix of huffs and sighs and murmurs of I'm sorry, man and Hang in there followed.
Dylan eyed Vince, Leo, and Celek. Vince and Celek were the alternate captains, and everyone listened to Leo. The trio would need to keep up the morale and the momentum in the locker room and on the bench. "I'm pissed that I can't be out there with you tonight. So pissed."
Celek gave him a nod and then turned to the group. "We'll handle it."
And in that tone of voice, 'handle it' meant play hard and get the win, no matter what.
Slater pulled off his helmet and ran his hand through his red hair. "If that asshole Nylander is playing tonight, I'll take him out for you, D. No one messes with our captain."
He had to smile at that. "Thanks, Slater. But they need you on the ice. So don't take any stupid penalties, okay?"
"I'll only bang him up a little." The rookie didn't look too happy about having to hold back.
Leo patted the kid on the shoulder. "Getting the win tonight will be a better revenge. So play smart. And yeah," his lips quirked, "only bang him up a little. I plan to do the same, because as you said, no one messes with our captain."
"He's gonna get 'banged up a little' from all of us tonight. I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost." Vince skated closer and grabbed a water bottle from the bench. "We'll win this tonight for you, D. Use your anger for fuel, channel it into getting better. We'll use ours tonight and kick some Edmonton ass."
"I wouldn't mind kicking some Edmonton ass." Specifically, Nylander's.
Celek nodded at him again. "We have your back, man. And we need you back here. So take the doc's advice and get some rest."
"I will. I'm going." Seeing the guys and talking to them had helped.
Rod met his gaze. "I'll stop by your room when I get back to the hotel."
He nodded and waved to the guys, and then walked away from the ice.
His frustration rebuilt as he exited the building and went back to the hotel. The headache beating like a drum in his skull wasn't helping his mood. But Vince was right, he'd use the anger for fuel. Lying on the bed, he rested while he called his agent, his father, Dr. Bisson, and the neurologist.
He couldn't wait to get back home to Buffalo, back to his home turf, his own doctors, and to people who would do everything in their power to get him back on the ice as fast as possible.
CHAPTER TEN
THE HOMETOWN CROWD was electric for game three of the Cup finals. Throughout the first period, the packed-to-capacity crowd had cheered for every goal, every hit, and every penalty killed. After spending the last two games in Edmonton, Blair was happy to be back home in the Bedlam's arena for games three and four of the series.
She wasn't happy that the doctor had cleared Dylan to play in the game. Only five days had passed since he'd sustained his third concussion of the season. He'd claimed to be completely symptom-free for the past three days, but she had her doubts. She knew him, knew where to look, and he wasn't himself.
He climbed over the boards for a line change. The ache in her chest bloomed as he glided across the ice. Her concerns hadn't mattered once he'd passed his baseline.
Beside her, Peter fixed the tape on Slater's wrist. Blair scanned the ice again, checking the players for any apparent injuries. The game moved at top speed and keeping an eye on everyone at the same time was impossible.
Dylan and Celek chased a loose puck to Edmonton's net. Their skates collided with the sliding body of an Edmonton defensemen who dove to the ice to block the puck from hitting the net. Both men flipped forward, and their feet left the ice. Air-born and upended, they crashed into the boards with a sickening thud. Dylan head-first and Celek landing on top of him.
Blair gasped. Not again.
Celek immediately pushed off, patted Dylan's arm, and rejoined the play. Dylan rose very slowly to his feet. Features furrowed in confusion and bewilderment, he raised his gloved hand to his face, then skated down the ice at a slower than normal pace to rejoin the play at the opposite end.
The whistle blew as the puck went out of play. The ref skated by Dylan and said something as he made a slow loop around Rod. Dylan still seemed to be confused, but he nodded and got in position to take the face-off.
Blair's stomach turned at the replay on the Jumbotron. She grabbed Peter's arm. "Why is he staying out there? You can see he's shaken up."
"We'll talk to him when he comes off his shift."
It was the longest fifty-two seconds of her life. She kept her focus glued to him the
