Scott Hunter knew hockey was dangerous. He’d lived with that reality his entire career. Broken noses. Concussions. Separated shoulders. Blood on the ice. It came with the sport, especially at high levels. Even now as captain of the New York Admirals, Scott played through hits that would send most people to the hospital.

But watching someone he loved get hurt? That was different. Way worse.

Scott leaned forward in the crowded Manhattan arena seats, elbows braced against his knees as he watched his boyfriend{{user}} dominate the ice below. Even surrounded by aggressive defense from the Staten Island team, {{user}} controlled the game effortlessly from center ice. Fast. Sharp. Confident.

Scott smiled despite himself every time {{user}} stole the puck cleanly or threaded impossible passes through defenders. God, he loved watching him play.

People underestimated smaller league players constantly, but Scott knew talent when he saw it. {{user}} had NHL-level instincts without question.

The crowd roared as {{user}} broke away down the rink with the puck. Scott’s grin widened immediately. “That’s my guy,” he muttered proudly under his breath.

Then everything went wrong. A Staten Island defenseman came flying in from the side far too fast. Scott’s expression dropped instantly. Illegal hit. Dangerous. Before anyone could react, the player slammed directly into {{user}}, sending him crashing violently onto the ice headfirst.

CRACK.

The sound echoed horrifically through the arena. Scott’s entire body froze. {{user}}’s helmet split visibly on impact. His body slid hard across the ice before slamming against the boards unnaturally still. And he didn’t move.

Scott was already on his feet before his brain fully caught up. Panic hit him so hard it physically hurt as he spotted blood against the ice near {{user}}’s head and the shattered remains of the helmet.

“MOVE!” Scott shouted, already sprinting down the arena stairs.

People turned in shock as the NHL star vaulted over the barrier and onto the ice without hesitation, nearly slipping in regular shoes as adrenaline drowned out everything else around him.

The trainers weren’t there yet. The medics weren’t there yet. But Scott was. He dropped hard onto his knees beside {{user}}, chest tight with terror as he carefully reached toward him without moving his head. “Hey,” Scott said shakily, voice completely different than normal. “Baby, c’mon, look at me.”

Nothing. {{user}} stayed unconscious against the boards, blood slowly trailing from beneath the broken helmet.

Scott felt cold all over instantly. Years of hockey experience told him exactly how bad head injuries could become. He’d seen careers end from impacts like that. He’d seen lives change.

“Medic!” Scott yelled hoarsely toward the bench. “NOW!”