Chapter 214: I’m Not Hungry

Reid closed his eyes for a long beat, swallowing hard as he forced himself to absorb her words. He took a heavy step toward the bed, leaning down so his face was level with mine.

"Kain," Reid whispered softly, his thumb lightly grazing the back of my limp hand where it lay on the sheets. "I’m going to practice. I’ll be back the second we finish morning skate. Please... just try for me."

I didn’t move. I didn’t turn my head, and I didn’t utter a single sound. I just kept staring into the empty space against the wall, my chest barely moving beneath the hospital gown.

With a final, pained exhale, Reid straightened up, grabbed his duffel bag, and walked out of the suite, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.

The moment the door locked, the quiet returned, but it didn’t last long.

Marina didn’t offer soft words or gentle pity. She pulled the tray table directly over my lap with a sharp metallic slide, picked up the lunchbox, and popped the lid off, letting the scent of warm, nutrient-dense broth and steamed chicken fill the air.

"Sit up, Kain," Marina ordered, her voice cold, precise, and completely devoid of coddling.

I kept my back turned to her, my voice small, raspy, and completely drained of life. "Marina... leave it. I’m not hungry."

"I don’t care if you’re hungry," Marina snapped, stepping up right to the edge of the mattress and grabbing my shoulder, forcefully—yet carefully—helping me roll onto my back so I had to face her.

Her sharp eyes glared down into mine, ablaze with fierce, unyielding intensity.

"You are going to eat every bite of this food," Marina said, pointing a finger straight at my chest. "You think you’re the only one hurting right now? Look at me! You have a shattered leg, a massive legal battle behind you, an Alpha who is ready to throw his career into the fire for you, and a baby growing inside you right now! Starving yourself in a dark room isn’t mourning your career, Kain—it’s cowardice. And you’re taking everyone down with you."

The word hit me like a physical blow, sharper and meaner than any cross-check I’d ever taken on the ice.

Cowardice.

I blinked, my dry, burning eyes locking onto hers as a sudden heat surged through my cold veins. Nobody had ever called me a coward in my entire life and made it stick like this. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, not when I was pulling myself off the boards with broken ribs just to finish a shift.

"I’m not..." My voice cracked, thick and choked with a mix of rising anger and raw, unadulterated pain. "I’m not a coward."

"Then stop acting like one!" Marina barked back, not wavering for a single second. She leaned in closer, her sharp Alpha presence filling every inch of the space around the bed, grounding me, forcing me to snap out of the dark void I had buried myself in. "A coward curls up and quits because the path he planned got destroyed. A leader looks at the mess, grips his teeth, and keeps his people together."

She shoved the spoon into my hand, pressing my fingers around the cold handle until I was forced to hold it.

"Look at what you’re doing, Kain," Marina said, her tone dropping into a low, intense rasp that hit straight at my heart. "Reid walked out of this room looking like a ghost because he thinks his lover is giving up on life. He has to step onto that ice tonight for Game 2, carrying the weight of the entire franchise, while wondering if you’re starving yourself to death in this bed. You are supposed to be his anchor. You are supposed to be their Captain. Is this how you support your team?"

My hand trembled violently around the spoon. Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and fast, spilling over my lashes as I looked down at the untouched bowl of broth on the tray table.

She was right. It hurt so badly it felt like my chest was splitting open, but she was right. I was so drowned in my own grief, so terrified of my broken body and the end of my dreams, that I was dragging Reid down into the dark with me right when he needed to be at his sharpest.

"The baby needs nutrients," Marina added, her voice finally softening just a fraction, her hand coming down to rest firmly over my shoulder. "And Reid needs to know his mate isn’t breaking down into dust while he’s fighting for your Stanley Cup. Eat, Kain. For them, if not for yourself."

I let out a long, ragged exhale, a quiet sob hitching in my throat. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, gripped the spoon tighter, and finally dipped it into the bowl.

The broth was warm against my dry throat, heavy and hard to swallow, but I forced the first bite down. Then the second.

Marina stood over me like a stone sentinel, her arms crossed over her chest, watching every single bite with silent, intense satisfaction.

When the bowl was half empty, I set the spoon down, leaning my head back against the pillows as a wave of sheer exhaustion washed over me. But for the first time since my leg snapped on the ice, the hollow, empty paralysis in my chest had cleared out, replaced by a fierce, quiet resolve.

I looked over at Marina, my throat still raw. "Help me with my phone."

Marina raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I need to call Reid," I rasped, my jaw setting into that familiar, unshakeable line. "Before he gets on the ice for morning skate."

Marina didn’t say another word. A small, satisfied curve touched the corner of her lips as she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out my phone, and handed it to me.

My fingers were still slightly trembling as I unlocked the screen and hit Reid’s contact.

He picked up on the very first ring—so fast he must have been staring at his phone while sitting on the team bus.

"Kain?" Reid’s voice rushed through the speaker, low, breathless, and laced with immediate, razor-sharp panic. "Is everything okay? Are you in pain? Did something—"

"Reid," I cut in, my voice raspy, but clear and firm.

The line went completely dead quiet on his end. I could hear the faint, muffled ambient noise of the team bus in the background—the low hum of the engine, the quiet murmurs of our teammates—but Reid’s breathing was frozen, waiting.

"I ate," I told him quietly, looking down at the half-empty bowl of broth on my tray table. "Marina made sure of it."

I heard a heavy, shuddering exhale burst from Reid’s chest over the receiver, so loud and full of profound relief that it sounded like he’d been holding his breath for twenty-four hours straight.

"Kain..." he rasped, his voice cracking slightly. "You... you really ate?"

"Yeah," I said, leaning my head back against the stack of pillows. I closed my eyes, letting out a slow, steady breath as I forced every ounce of my Captain’s authority back into my tone. "And I’m calling to tell you to stop worrying about me and get your head in the game. I’ll be fine."

Reid didn’t answer right away. I could practically feel his presence through the line, his pine scent probably softening and settling inside the quiet bus.

"I’m sorry about last night, Reid," I murmured, my voice dropping into a softer, private register. "I lost my head. I let the shock get to me. But I’m not giving up, and I’m not going to keep staring at the wall either."

"You don’t ever have to apologize to me, Cap," Reid whispered back, his tone thick with an unshakeable, devotion-laced intensity. "Never."

"Good," I rasped, a faint, genuine trace of my old self returning to my chest. "Then listen to me. Game 2 is tonight. Though Pedro is out, the Wolves are going to come at our lines twice as hard to try and rattle us. Russo and Miller are holding the room, but on the ice, you take charge of the physical play. Don’t let anyone push our guys around."

"Consider it done," Reid said without a single second of hesitation.

"And Reid?"

"Yeah?"

"Play hard tonight," I said, my hand coming down to rest flat over my lower stomach, beneath the heavy hospital blanket. "Bring us home a win. We’ll be watching from here."

"I’ll bring you the win, Kain," Reid promised, his voice low, steady, and solid as iron. "I’ll see you right after the final horn."

We ended the call, and as I laid the phone down on the mattress, the dark, suffocating fog that had enveloped the room since yesterday morning finally began to lift.

Marina picked up the empty tray, setting it aside, before looking down at me with her arms crossed.

"Better," she said smoothly, a sharp, prideful glimmer in her eyes. "Now, let’s get you set up so you can actually watch your team play tonight."