Breaking The Ice

I'll Be Fine

TJ's POV

I winced as I leaned against the back of my bedroom door the second I closed it behind me, letting the complete and utter agony my body was in finally take over. Every single cell inside me was screaming at me, telling me what an idiot I was for even going to practice in the first place, and muscles I didn't even know I had were on fire from trying to compensate for my other injuries. Tanner had done his best to test every ounce of strength I had not to break down on the ice and give into the pain that was surging its way through my body, but I refused to give him one second of satisfaction.

I took a second to just let myself feel it, the freedom of not having to hold it all in taking over as I began to fully feel the trauma I'd inflicted on my muscles, knowing that if I was sore before it would be nothing compared to how I'd feel in the morning. If there was any benefit, it appeared that most of my body had gone numb about half way through the scrimmage so I knew I wasn't completely feeling it. I allowed myself a few minutes of self-pity before I forced myself to make my way to my closet to change, knowing that if I stood still too long my muscles would seize up. The idea of laying in my bed and letting my body rest sounded like heaven, and once I had showered crawling under those covers was the only thing on my mind.

I winced with every movement, from opening my drawer and pulling out a tank top to pulling it over my head, deciding that I had no need or desire to put shorts on and my underwear would just have to do. I hobbled over to my bed, my legs feeling the sweet release as I sat down and no longer had to hold up my body weight. That alone was enough to make me moan in relief as I gently tried to massage my calves with my hands.

I'd spent the last four hours doing my best to force my body to do what I needed it to, pushing myself to the absolute limits of how much pain I could handle. I knew I couldn't show the slightest hint of weakness, not only because I knew Harry wouldn't hesitate to bench me, but because it was pretty obvious that our new coach was just waiting to find a reason to get rid of me.

I wasn't an idiot, I'd seen the familiar look in his eye that told me everything I needed to know. That look, along with his condescending and patronizing comments, was a clear indication as to where he stood as far as my position went. I knew I wasn't the only one who noticed it, seeing as I'd seen my roommates almost tell him to go fuck himself on more than one occasion, and Harry's tongue must have been gushing blood for how much he seemed to be biting it to keep himself from saying something he shouldn't.

I appreciated their instinct to defend me, and I knew that it was hard on them to sit back and watch some of the challenges I faced, but there would never be a day where they truly understood how it felt. I suppose I was probably pretty numb to it all by then, almost like I'd expected the day would come, and I'd done my best to make my peace with it a long time ago. All I could do was continue to let my talent do the talking. If Tanner wanted to get rid of me, I was gonna make it damn hard for him to justify it without looking like the sexist dick he was.

I'd never been one to get involved in the politics of it, to try to explain to people why I deserved to be there or speak up to defend myself to a bunch of people that I knew would never listen. I let my playing speak for itself, let people make their assumptions without saying anything that they could twist around and make things worse. I took it to the ice, and this time would be no different. In the end, it was the only thing I could do.

I heard the front door to our dorm open, followed by a knock on my bedroom door a few seconds later, and I knew before he poked his head into my room that it was Harry.

"Come in." I sighed, reaching over to grab the Advil off my bedside table.

He cleared his throat as he entered the room, running his hand through his hair as he looked down at the floor and closed my door behind him. I think Harry sometimes forgot how well I knew him, as he did his best to hide his frustrations from me, but it was written all over him from every muscle in his body. He looked stressed and anxious, guilty almost, as he seemed to avoid looking at me. And it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why.