Free Safe Harbor 2: Hiding in Plain Sight by Cassandra Carr Page B

look away when the side angle clearly showed the puck hitting Vlad near where his foot and ankle met. They returned to live in time to see the trainer and the young kid put Vlad’s arms around their shoulders and start to slide him toward the dressing room. Vlad wasn’t putting any weight on his leg at all. Joe’s stomach churned, his heart in his throat. Ironically, it was the same feeling he’d had after he’d fallen and had known immediately he was badly hurt.
    He rose and began to pace. They had to give some sort of an update, right? Finally, between the second and third periods, after Joe had circled his living room about a million times, the announcers said Vlad had a lower body injury and would not return.
    “Lower body injury? Well, duh. Great powers of deduction. The fucking puck hit him in the foot.”
    Joe would never understand why teams hid what sort of injury the player had suffered. It was clear in the replay it had been his foot or his ankle. Joe continued to pace, his teeth picking at his chapped lips until they bled. The game ended, and he kept the postgame on in case there was any news. Shortly after the coach’s postgame press conference, where the man gave the same bullshit explanation, his phone buzzed. Joe practically dived for the stupid thing. It was Vlad.
    Got hit with puck. Big bruise on my ankle. Hit between skate and pads. Sucks. Will call tomorrow with more details. Gave me good painkillers.
    With a hand over his heart, Joe took a deep breath. The news wasn’t good but could’ve been much worse, he knew. Those bruises were painful, but it shouldn’t keep him out of commission for too long. Joe had experienced his fair share of similar injuries and kept going. But hockey wasn’t exactly like Delta Force, where they regularly made lifesaving missions even while badly injured, so likely Vlad would get a few games off.
    Get some sleep, baby, and let me know if you need any help. Do you have a ride home?
    He sat heavily on the couch, relieved Vlad’s injury wasn’t more serious. A deep bone bruise, which Vlad most likely had, was nothing to take lightly, but he could’ve broken his leg or worse.
    One of the guys can drop me off. If you are free tomorrow, maybe you can take me to pick up my truck.
    Joey smiled.
    Of course I can. I’m off work and at your disposal.
    Yawning, Joe looked at the time. Eleven o’clock on a Saturday, and I’m considering going to bed. What the hell happened to my twenties? He made a derisive noise. The army happened. Joe didn’t regret joining the army, but there was no doubt it had eaten up a good chunk of time in the past several years.
    Hmm. Interesting idea. Will call tomorrow after I wake up. Just took pills. Sleepy time.
    He laughed, thinking about Vlad all curled up, his leg elevated who-knew-where. No doubt his ankle would be killing him for the next couple of days. Maybe he’ll need a nurse. Perhaps a rectal exam . Joey rolled his eyes. Yeah, it’s definitely time for bed when stuff like that seems funny.
    After turning out the lights, he crawled into bed. If he had anything to say about it, he’d be in Vlad’s bed tomorrow night.
    * * * *
    “Dude, we’re home.”
    “Wha?” Vlad rubbed his eyes.
    “We’re in Pittsburgh. This is traditionally when we get off the plane.”
    He cracked an eye open. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” His teammate turned away. “Hey, can somebody take me home? I probably should not drive.”
    The man turned back and smirked. “You do look like shit.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Yeah, I’ll drop ya.”
    Vlad gathered his stuff and slowly followed his teammate to his car, leaning on the crutches they’d given him. Soon he was home again. After checking the time, he took another painkiller. They’d called it a bruise, a word that made his injury sound so minor, but his ankle was swollen to almost twice its size and had turned colors for about a six-inch circle around the point of impact. It hurt like a