All Chapters of The Collision : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Jace's POVI was awake before the alarm. I'd barely slept at all.At four-fifteen I sat on the edge of my bed with the lamp off and shook two painkillers from the bottle into my palm. The label said one. I stared at the label, then at my hand, and swallowed both dry.Twenty minutes later I took a third.I told myself it was only for this morning. By the time I pulled my jacket over the wrap, my shoulder had dulled to a thick, distant hum, like a TV playing in another room. My fingers still tingled. I flexed them in the dark hallway until they closed all the way.The rink's side door had a latch that never caught properly, and every player on the team knew it. I pushed it open at four-forty. The cold inside hit my face, the clean steel smell of resurfaced ice and nothing else. The overhead lights were off, with only the red exit signs glowing at each corner.I flipped on one bank of lights and laced up in the empty stands."Okay," I said to nobody. "Once. Just do it once."I skated to

Ariana's POV Becca's phone let out a cartoon slide whistle, and I looked up from my notes in time to see her thumb freeze over the screen."Ari," she said. "Don't freak out.""Why would I freak out?""Because I'm about to show you something, you're going to say you're not looking, and then you're going to look three times."I set my pen down. "Just show me."She turned the phone around. A nine-second video played on a loop, shot from low in the stands. Jace stood at the top of the circle with his stick back. Then he went sideways, arms flying out, his helmet cracking against the ice. Someone laughed too hard to finish a sentence. Then the slide whistle again, dropping down the scale."Oh my God," I said."Right?""Stop it."Becca stopped it. "Twenty thousand views since lunch. The team group chat sent it to the whole residence hall."I didn't answer. I was already watching it in my head, and that was worse than the phone."Watch the top of the shot," she said. "Tell me what you see,

Ethan's POVThe arena garage smelled of cold concrete and tire rubber. I stood beside a pillar on the second level, where the ceiling light flickered every few seconds.Jace had read the message at 11:20 and typed nothing back. I had waited forty minutes at the rest area, then driven straight here. A conversation like this belonged on neutral ground.The gray Civic came up the ramp slowly, the way a car does when its driver is already regretting something. It stopped three spaces away. Jace got out with his gear bag over his left shoulder, his right arm hanging stiff against his side."You came," I said."You said we needed to talk.""You could have answered.""I could have." He shut the car door with his hip. "Then you would have shown up at my dorm."I took a step toward him. He stopped where he was, a few feet away."Whitaker called me," I said."I figured.""He says you haven't booked the imaging.""The clinic moved it.""Don't do that. Whitaker has the note. He has the physician'

Ethan's POVWhitaker called before the phone had finished its first buzz."It's posted," he said. No greeting. "The statement went live at noon. I'm looking at it on the department site right now.""I read the draft.""You approved the draft." Paper rustled on his end. "Reporters are asking whether the university has seen a medical file. I told them we stand behind our player. That's true. I didn't say we've seen a scan.""Then you're covered.""I'm not covered, Ethan. I'm exposed in a different direction." He paused. "The board is satisfied for now. That's the good news. The bad news is that Thursday is the only thing anyone is going to care about after this."When he hung up, I stood at the window. The parking lot below was half empty, a few cars sitting under the bare trees. Then I scrolled to my son's name and pressed call.It rang four times and went to voicemail.*It's Jace. You know what to do.*I ended the call without speaking. Then I dialed again and listened to the whole gr

Jace's POVThe puck came off Mike's stick flat and fast, right at my blade. I had time to see it. I didn't have time to fix my grip.I pulled the stick back to receive it, the way I'd done ten thousand times, and my right hand closed too hard. The puck skipped off the heel and slid wide, toward the boards, where nobody was waiting."Carter!" Coach's whistle cut across the ice. "What was that?""Bad touch.""That was a bad hand."I skated after the puck, slow, so nobody would see me reach for it with my left. Ryan was already there. He scooped it onto his blade and flipped it back toward center without looking at me."Captain's got butter fingers today," he said to the guy beside him.A few players laughed. "Keep moving, Ryan," Mike said from the blue line."I'm just saying what everybody's thinking.""Then think it quieter."I rolled my shoulders and felt the pull all the way down my arm. Under my jersey it was hot and tight, like a rope someone had wrapped too many times. I told mys