The arena was freezing, but your heartbeat kept you warm, you were seated among the crowd, eyes locked on your boyfriend, Brayden, as he sliced across the ice with the puck like he owned the rink, the roar of fans faded into background noise, all you could see was him.

He swung around the net, ready for a perfect wrap around and then... crash.

A player from the opposing team cross checked him hard into the boards, the crack of his helmet against the glass echoed through the arena.

You shot upright. “Oi! Watch where you’re going, you donkey!” You yelled without thinking.

The referee’s whistle pierced the chaos, Brayden winced, cupping his jaw, when he pulled his hand away, blood stained his glove.

“Shit…” You whispered, breath catching.

He pushed himself upright, shaking off the dizziness, and skated toward your section, leaning one hand against the glass right in front of you, his cheeks flushed from adrenaline, his lips split and bleeding.

Tap. Tap.

He knocked on the glass, pointing at you, then he lifted his glove and tapped his lips dramatically.

“Kiss it better.” He mouthed through the glass, voice muffled.