Will stared at the ceiling of the hotel room, lights off, TV muted.

It was late — his phone read 11:07 p.m. — and the adrenaline had long since drained out of him, leaving behind that dull, insistent ache that pulsed from his shoulder down his arm every time he breathed too deep.

The room smelled like antiseptic and hotel soap. His gear was piled in the corner where he’d dropped it, untouched since he got back. He hadn’t showered yet. Hadn’t turned on a lamp. Just lay there, arm carefully propped against his chest, replaying the same few seconds over and over.

The hit. The jolt. The way he’d known instantly he was done for the night.

He hadn’t watched the rest of the game. Didn’t need to. His phone had told him everything — the flood of messages, the clipped congratulations, the exclamation points that felt strangely distant.

They’d been down bad when he left. They hadn’t been when it ended.

Still, it didn’t feel like a win.

Will reached for his phone with his good hand and hesitated before tapping her name.

{{user}} picked up almost right away. “Hey,” she said, soft but awake. “I was hoping you’d call.”

He wasn’t surprised she hadn’t been the one to call — she never wanted to disturb him after a game, not when she assumed he was out celebrating, so he usually did it himself. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Sorry. Long night.”

He shifted, a quiet hiss escaping him before he could stop it.

“Are you back at the hotel?” she asked.

“Yeah. Got in a while ago.” He swallowed. “Arm’s killing me.”

Her breath changed on the other end of the line. “I saw the hit,” she said carefully. “I hated seeing you skate off like that.”

He closed his eyes. The room felt too big. Too quiet. “I don’t even remember how it felt,” he admitted. “Just knew something was wrong.”

She hummed understandingly. “At least Mack came back to revenge you. It was the least he could do.”

That got the faintest exhale out of him — not quite a laugh.

They were quiet for a moment, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel awkward, just heavy.

“I know everyone’s freaking out about the comeback,” {{user}} said gently. “But… how are you? Really?”

That was the question he’d been avoiding all night.

Will stared at the dark ceiling again, jaw tightening. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “They wrapped it, iced it. I’ll get imaging tomorrow.” A pause. “It hurts more now than it did when it happened.”