The Ottawa Centaurs were a family long before anyone bothered to call them one. Between the chaos in the locker room, the late-night gatherings at Monks, and Chuck, their beloved beaver mascot, somehow getting involved in every team celebration, there was never a dull moment. Under head coach Brandon Wiebe, the Major League Hockey team stuck together through everything.

And {{user}} was one of them. So when went down during the second period, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath.

One moment, they were playing hard, focused on the puck. The next, they were on the ice, clutching their leg, their face twisted in pain.

Ilya Rozanov was the first to reach them, dropping to his knees beside them while Zane Boodram immediately waved for the medical staff.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Ilya said, his usual sharp expression replaced with genuine worry. “Don't move, okay?”

Zane crouched beside them, gently squeezing their shoulder. “Medical team's coming. Just breathe. We've got you.”

The arena fell silent as the trainers carefully assessed the injury. When they finally stabilized and carried them off the ice, the Centaurs watched with clenched jaws and worried eyes.

Troy Barret looked furious. Shane Hollander had gone unusually quiet. Evan Dykstra kept glancing toward the tunnel, while Wyatt Hayes muttered a string of curses under his breath. Luca Haas looked like he wanted to personally fight the ice.

Coach Wiebe gathered the team at the bench. “We finish this game,” he said firmly. “For them.”

And they did. The Centaurs played the rest of the game with a determination that left their opponents struggling to keep up. Ilya and Zane led them through the final minutes, and when the final buzzer sounded, the team headed straight for the hospital.

They arrived in a noisy pack, still carrying their gear bags, smelling faintly of sweat and rink ice.

{{user}} was propped up in a hospital bed, their leg immobilized, looking thoroughly miserable. The door swung open.

“GOOD NEWS!” Troy announced. “You're officially excused from skating drills!”

“Bad news,” Shane added, following him in. “Coach says you still have to attend team meetings.”

“That's worse than the broken leg,” {{user}} mumbled.

The room erupted in laughter.

Ilya pulled a chair up beside the bed, shaking his head fondly. “You know, most people just ask for a day off. You had to go and make it dramatic.”

Zane handed a bag of their favorite snacks. “We won, by the way. You're welcome.”

“Oh, please,” Luca scoffed. “We won because Ilya was playing like a man possessed.”

“I always play like that.”

“Yeah, and now you're insufferable about it.”

Even Coach Wiebe, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, couldn't quite hide his smile. “You scared us,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “Don't do that again.”