30 Days Too Late

Game Time

Dexter

I shoot up from my bed and stumble as I swing open my door, keeping a hand over my mouth as the nausea rises. I hear the shower running and silently pray the door isn't locked.

Luckily, it's unlocked and I quickly crouch in front of the toilet, vomiting up last night's dinner. My stomach feels awful. The shower turns off, and the overwhelming smell of soap hits me, causing me to vomit again.

"Wayne, are you okay?" Rudy calls out, concern evident in his voice.

I flush the toilet and feel his touch on my shoulder. "It's just the medication" I say, wiping my mouth.

He steps out of the shower and wraps himself in a towel. "I'll get you some water," he says and I nod.

My stomach churns, so I stand up to alleviate the discomfort. Leaning on my vanity, I study my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, my hair is greasy, and my face has lost its color. With my family watching tonight, I need to make my father proud. I have to get myself together; I need to fix this.

Rudy returns dressed and with a glass of water. I peck his lips before chugging it. His smile falters as his eyes examine me. "I'll be fine, Rue," I state. He nods but I can see the worry written between his eyebrows. Rudy doesn't do well under stress; he could freeze or have a freak out.

It'd kill me if I were the cause of either. "Why won't you let me sub for you?" he asks. He's looking at me with such intensity and he'll know if I cough a lie.

"Rudy, if I don't go out there and play, I'm proving my family right. One sign of weakness on or off the ice and my father will pull me out. We won't get to skate, and I won't see you again. You cannot sub for me while I am still able to walk," I state.

He releases a breath, and his eyes water. He wanted the truth; I gave it to him. I beat cancer twice, dealt with my parent's wrath for years just so I could see Rudy again. I want to skate beside him; I want to be happy with him. And I will not give up now.

I reach up and caress the hickey I left on his neck. Rudy rests his head on my arm and embrace him in a hug with my other arm. "Show 'em what you're made of," he encourages me and I smile.

"I will," I reply.

...

It's tied at 4-4, and their period. My throat burns and my feet sting as I skate over to Marco for a face off. and we're setting up another face-off. It doesn't make it better that we're in the third period. "Hangin' in there, Wayne?" Marco asks and I glare. He's out for blood.

"Never been better," I reply and get into position.  The puck drops and I secure it quickly. It's a fight down the ice as there are ten minutes left on the clock.

I'm slammed into the glass and groan as I'm forced to ride the wall. I scan for an open spot for Rudy, who's also under pressure. Julio comes into view, and I pass it to him. Circling around the net in case Julio gets blocked, I speed up and shoulder-check Marco off Rudy.

I take a sharp 90-degree turn to get past the defender, finding an opening to score. Julio passes the puck to me, and I shoot it right off my stick. The goal light flashes, and I release a sigh of relief.

"Two minutes left," I call out to Marco, who is grinding his teeth.

"You doubt me," he grumbles. The puck drops, and he quickly secures it. He's going solo on this one—bold move. Rudy skates backward in front of Marco, effortlessly disrupting his stick handling.

He's executing the move perfectly, as expected from the one who taught me. Rudy steals the puck back, and my eyes widen in anticipation. I position myself in a rotation, ready to assist if needed. I collide head-first with a stick and land flat on my back.