Elliot POV
I didn't run last night like Pryce told me to. If I missed the morning skate before the Toronto flight, the league would have used my absence as an excuse to suspend me on the spot. So I showed up, swallowed two double doses of blockers, and stepped onto the ice anyway.
Now, I was skating behind the net when the edge of my left skate blade caught a deep rut in the slush. My knee buckled. I felt a sharp pain shoot up my thigh. I had to shove my stick against the ice to stay upright. The stick was vibrating badly under my palms.
"Move the puck, El!" Nathan yelled from the slot.
"I'm moving it!" I called back, snapping my wrists.
The puck slid through the snow. It bounced a couple of times before it hit Nathan's tape. Then he fired a shot into the top corner of the
