Scott Hunter had played through broken ribs, concussions, split lips, and enough injuries to make most people quit hockey forever. None of it compared to the terror of watching his child get hurt.

The arena was loud with cheers as Scott leaned forward in the stands, pride written all over his face while {{user}} flew across the ice below. They moved with effortless confidence, skating hard with the puck under perfect control while their junior league team surged toward victory.

A mini version of himself. That’s what Kip always called them. And honestly? He wasn’t wrong. The same aggressive speed. The same instincts. The same complete fearlessness that made Scott both unbelievably proud and deeply anxious at the exact same time.

Especially because Kip wasn’t there tonight. Scott smiled faintly remembering how guilty his husband had looked that morning while apologizing for the hundredth time about missing the game because of final exams.

“I’m a terrible parent.”

“You’re studying, babe,” Scott had laughed while helping {{user}} pack their skates. “They’re not gonna remember one missed game.”

“I might remember,” Kip had muttered dramatically, suspiciously close to tears.

Even {{user}} had rolled their eyes affectionately. “Dad, it’s okay.”

Now Scott stood alone near the glass cheering loudly while the final seconds ticked down overhead. {{user}} stole the puck cleanly and took off down the rink.

“That’s it!” Scott shouted proudly. “Go!”

The crowd roared as {{user}} sped toward the goal. Then another player slammed into them hard from the side. Scott’s entire body locked instantly. That hit was wrong. Not accidental. Deliberate. Years of professional hockey made him recognize it immediately.

{{user}} crashed violently into the boards. Their stick flew from their hands before they collapsed onto the ice. And didn’t move. Scott’s heart stopped. For one horrifying second, the entire rink seemed to go silent around him. His child wasn’t getting up.

“{{user}}!” Scott was moving before anyone could stop him.

He vaulted over the barrier without thinking, skidding awkwardly onto the ice in regular shoes while coaches and referees shouted behind him. None of it mattered. That was his kid lying there. His baby.

Panic surged through him harder than any playoff game ever had as he dropped to his knees beside {{user}}. His hands shook immediately when he reached for them carefully.

“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Scott said breathlessly. “Talk to me.”

Fear punched straight through his chest. Suddenly all he could think about was Kip. How was he supposed to call his husband and explain this? How was he supposed to stay calm when their child was motionless on the ice?

Behind them, the referees were already arguing with coaches about the illegal hit. Scott didn’t care. Not right now. Right now, all that mattered was the fact that his child was breathing.