The Coldest Knee Ice Pack Novels & Stories

Zander cursed under his breath at what I could guess was a gnarly bruise forming on my face. Kieran stood up and quickly made his way over to the freezer at the back of the gym. He grabbed an ice pack and ran back to us. He carefully placed it along my forehead. Zander helped to lie me back down as Kieran continued to ice my head. I hissed at the contact, only for Zander to begin a slur of curse words.

Seven-year-old Kate’s ordeal wasn’t over. For the rest of the afternoon, she endured the pain from her wrist and tried to make the swelling subside. Remembering what her ma did every time she had a bump or a sprain, she bought two freezies from the mom-and-pop store and iced her injury. She alternated between grimacing, crying and calmly sucking on the freezies (mung bean flavor), her pain forgotten if only for a short while.

I jerked an ice pad out of the rack, filling it with ice cubes from the fridge. Coming back to the bed, I take her face in my hand again, placing the cooling pad on her nose. I'll check for any sign of fracture later but for now, I just want to hold her like this. If I remember right, ten minutes of icing the affected area down should do. I wait the time out before running my fingers, gently, along the ridge of her nose, checking for any broken bones. There seems to be none so I go ahead to bring out the kiddies bandaid I've had since God knows when.

"But no blood. That is good. Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?" "No," I said. "Just sore." He grabbed an ice pack from the first aid kit, cracked it to activate the cold, and pressed it gently against the bump on my forehead. "Hold this here," he instructed. I took the ice pack from him, our fingers brushing. That same electric feeling shot through me, and I quickly looked away. Derek moved his attention to my knee, which was visibly swollen through my jeans. "I need to see this," he said. "Can you roll up your pant leg?"

She says and the heavenly smell invades my nostrils. "Thanks guys." I say smiling at them. "You need to lay down, Kera." Denver says before walking into the bathroom and getting a wet towel. He walks over to me and moves me over to the couch. I lay down after Nadine fixes the pillows. Den lays the towel across my forehead. The cold makes me feel better but it's soon gone as the heat on my body turns it warm. "Can we use ice?" I ask and Denver goes to the fridge and gets an ice pack. "We can't keep it on too long though." He says and wraps it in the towel before placing it on my forehead again.

The last thing I wanted was to run into Tessa or Gemini again. I opened the fridge, its light spilling into the dark room, and grabbed the ice tray. Wrapping a few cubes in a thin cloth, I hurried back to my room, shutting the door softly behind me. The cold ice pressed against my hand, numbing the pain slightly. I pressed the makeshift ice pack harder against the burns, letting some relief wash over me as my body sank back onto the bed. The ice managed to numb the pain and dull the fire, just long enough for me to drift back into sleep.

And I jumped. The air was biting cold. I hit the ground with a muffled thud, sinking into a heap of snow. My knees buckled, and a sting cut sharply across my leg where skin peeled against the edge of ice. The pain came immediately but numbed almost instantly by the cold slipping into it. I stood up fast, subbing the ache. My breath came quickly and unsteady, turning white in the freezing air. Without glancing back, I started moving toward the street. Each step away from the house felt like taking back a piece of myself.

He set the bag on the desk — extra ankle tape, anti‑inflammatory gel, a fresh ice pack — and popped the cooler open to show me a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. “Figured you’d already taped it, but better safe than sorry. How does it feel now? Swelling at all?” I sat on the edge of the bed and propped my foot up on the chair. “Sore. Not bad, just… tight when I point my toes too hard.” He knelt down carefully, untucked the hem of my sweatpants, and wrapped the fresh ice pack around my ankle, securing it with a light layer of tape. His hands were warm and calloused, his touch gentle, like he was handling something fragile.

Every step feels like a nail bomb exploded in my foot. This is going to be a pain. A few minutes later, Thea knocked on the door and came into the room with a large blue ice pack. It was one of those with a strap quickly to wrap around my ankle. As she applied it, I felt a jolt of pain, but once the coldness stuck, it made me shudder with relaxation. After using it, she left me alone for me to despair. I knew in her face she wanted to talk, but right now, I just wanted to lie down and stay quiet. As I lay, I brought the image of Liam and Sydney. Those disturbing images raided my brain, repeating like my grandmother's broke track record.

The air in the Briarwood locker room was heavy, wet soup—old sweat, the strong smell of sports tape, and the fancy cologne the guys used to cover up the rink smell. Outside my stall, the other Knights were a mix of loud voices, slamming locker doors, and high-fives. Loud rap music with heavy bass played from a speaker in the corner, shaking the floor and my feet. It was meant to be a fun time after skating, but it didn't help with the silence in my mind. “Voss! Are you planning on living in there, or are we going to the Liquid Lounge?” I didn't look up. I knew the voice. John, our goalie and my oldest friend. I could hear the steady clack-clack-clack of his skates as he finished unbuckling h