A few days later, the game that I promised Viktor I would attend finally arrived.

In total, over the previous few days, we got nearly two feet of snow. Even for Bloomington, Minnesota, that was a serious storm.

But since I finally had a chance to slow down, I had plenty of time for all of the college germs to incubate in my system and finally bring me down.

My head hurt like hell, my muscles didn't want to work, and I was pretty sure I had swallowed ninety pounds of broken glass and shoved a ton of paper up my nose.

Influenza. Fuck yeah.

Amanda: 2, Life: 1.5.

I still had the lead, of course, but I didn't like only being up by half a point.

That counted me out for Viktor's game, but Matt and the triplets all wanted to go, so my presence wouldn't be missed.

I couldn't remember if the triplets had ever seen Viktor play, since they were either a.) not born yet when Matt and Viktor were on the same team the first time, or b.) too young to give a shit about high school hockey.

I was excited for them, although I was certain Melissa wouldn't care for the loud atmosphere.

Viktor peeked into my room as I laid in bed, trying not to die.

"Hey, I hope you feel better," he said with a smile.

"Thith thit won't keep me out for log," I said, my stuffy nose affecting my pronunthiathion.

"I'll pretend I understood what you just said." He laughed. "Let Arti take care of you, okay? And if she doesn't, I'll yell at her."

"No, you wob't," I said.

"Yes, I will. Now go to sleep. You look tired."

"Are the triplets vacthinated?" I asked.

"I don't know. Ask Matt."

"Matt!" I yelled, but my voice wouldn't go as loud as I wanted it to. I held my throat.

Dammit, that hurt.

"Candy Cane, just go to sleep."

"But I'm not tired," I said.

"Go to sleep. Good night."

And with that, he walked out of the room.

I frowned, but I laid my head back on the pillow, and it turned out that I was indeed pretty tired.

I fell asleep almost immediately.

***

When I woke up, there was a bottle of medicine resting on the table beside me, a glass of water, a box of tissues, and a note from Arti.

I picked the note up and read it. "I'm not trying to catch your germs. I'll be downstairs. Yell if you need anything else."

That would have been a sweet gesture if I could actually yell, but I figured texting her would work just as well.

I looked up at the clock. Viktor's game was supposed to start at 1:00, and it was 6:30 in the evening.

If my sick brain could still do basic math, the triplets, Matt, and Viktor should have been home by then, but I hadn't heard them at all.

I had also spent the last few hours pretty fucking unconscious, so I probably just didn't hear them.

At least I hoped that was the case.

I picked up my phone, then sent a text to Arti. "Hey, is everyone home yet?"

Her response was quick. "No, and I'm beginning to get a little worried."

"Rush hour traffic?" I asked.

"Maybe. We'll hope that's the case."

Another twenty minutes passed, and still, they didn't come home.

But fortunately, my phone rang, and it was Matthew.

I picked it up immediately. "Oh, thank God. I was just beginning to worry—"

"Don't tell her, Matt. She'll kill me," I heard Viktor cry in the background.

Matt sighed. "Oh my god, shut the fuck up. We're on our way home now—"

"What's wrong?" I croaked out.

"Please, don't tell her! She'll murder me, and I'm not even exaggerating," Viktor continued.

"Right, because she just won't notice those fucking crutches. How stupid do you think she is?" Matt replied to Viktor.

"Matthew," I said.

"Look, Amanda. Viktor's season is done," Matt said.

"What?"

"He took a cheap ass hit and tore the shit out his ACL. He'll need surgery. Big picture, he'll be fine, but right now, he's a fucking mess," Matt continued.

"But he needs this season more than anything. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered. "I'm gonna go throw up. Tell me the rest when you get home."

"I can't understand a word you're saying, so I'll just tell you the rest when we get home. It'll be about fifteen minutes. I'll see you."

Everything we worked so hard for just went down the toilet.

It was shit, I was shit, whoever hurt Viktor was shit, I was shit, everything was just straight-up shit.

My throat that already hurt from sickness began to close up, and I wiped my eyes before any tears could find their way out.

An allergic reaction to feelings. Just what I fucking needed.

"Great. Fucking great," I muttered to myself, and as much as I wanted to throw my phone against the wall, I didn't. My arms were too tired.

Thanks, flu.

Viktor didn't deserve any of it. He put in more work than I could understand, and we were so close, so close to getting our dream.

And even though I knew nothing was over yet (besides Viktor's season), I couldn't help but let the sky crash down on me.

I wasn't even as involved with Viktor's season this time around, but what made it different was that there was a goal in sight, just in front of our fingertips.

"Ha, bitch, you thought." -Life, probably.

About twenty minutes later, Matt, Viktor, and the triplets finally got home.

I could tell because there was a sound that I hadn't heard in a few months: Natalie's crying.

She was slightly more emotional than me even at the ripe old age of ten, and with her silly crush on Viktor, she loved him more than anything else.

I listened to her footsteps running up the stairs as she choked back her sobs, then she slammed her bedroom door shut.

She had always hated sports, and I was sure that Viktor's injury was another reason to add to her list.

I forced myself out of bed, my muscles begging me to just stay put for once in my life, and I dragged myself down the stairs, a blanket wrapped around my freezing shoulders.

I probably looked like a goddamn dumpster fire, but it wasn't like they hadn't seen me in worse conditions.

Arti was a full foot shorter than Viktor, but she tried to support one half of him, and Matt took the other half. Viktor clearly wasn't with it, and as miserable as the flu made me, it couldn't compare to the pain in my chest when Matt flicked his hand, gesturing for me to go back upstairs before Viktor could see me.

I did as I was nonverbally told, but I sat at the top of the stairway, since Matt couldn't tell me what to do.

Everything Viktor and I had worked for was gone. The countless hours we spent at the arena after he told me he wouldn't play hockey again, the words I screamed at him to get him to fix whatever minor issue he had, the stupid drama with Lukas, the destruction of defeat and the spoils of victory.

All gone.

His name meant winner, for God's sake, and there we were, two complete losers.

How could it all end so suddenly?

"It's not over, me. Chill the fuck out," I said to myself.

"Amanda, we only do this when you're stressed. You really need to calm down," I said.

"You both need to shut the fuck up and let me figure this out. We should at least talk to Matt before we get our panties in a wad," I said.

"Oh God, now there's a third one of us. What's your name, hun?" I asked.

"I guess I'll be Candy Cane."

"We can sort this shit out later, okay?" I said, then picked myself up. Or, rather, I scooted on my butt down the stairs. My legs were not up for a challenge.

Amanda, me, and Candy Cane needed to pull our shit together. Viktor would have killed us if he heard us.

We sat on the bottom step and waited for Matt to come find us.

We sat for a long time, thirty seconds at least.

Candy Cane was beginning to get impatient.

We decided to listen to Matt, Viktor, and Arti's conversation to pass the time.

"Don't move from this position, okay? You have to keep it as still and as elevated as possible. Pretend you're stuck in concrete or something," Matt said to Viktor.

"That sounds really, really terrible," Viktor said.

"Then talk to Arti. She's interesting enough."

"I don't think she likes me that much," Viktor replied.

"I'm standing right here, and I can assure you that I like you a lot better than Blaine, so you're not last on my totem pole," I heard Arti say.

"I forgot you were there," Viktor said.

"What kind of meds are you on? Can I have some?" Arti asked.

"They had to drug the shit out of him to get him to cooperate. He had a full-scale panic attack before they even told him they wanted to do an MRI, and his claustrophobic ass absolutely lost his mind after that," Matt continued.

"You're being really mean to me," Viktor said.

"If you want sympathy, go find Amanda. I'm just really tired after having to fight you every step of the goddamn way."

Viktor hesitated. "I'm sorry."

Matt sighed. "I'm not mad at you, I promise. It's just been a long day, okay? I think we both need to just focus on something else."

"That's kind of difficult when I'm stuck in concrete," Viktor said.

"Sweetie, you're not in concrete. Holy shit, he's fucked up," Arti said.

"I'm gonna go take a Xanax, then I'm gonna explain what's going on to Amanda. I'm afraid she's not gonna take this well," Matt said.

"No shit." Arti laughed, but it wasn't a happy one. "No. Fucking. Shit."

I didn't even pretend I wasn't listening to their conversation. I looked at Matt as he walked from the living room into the hallway where I was sitting.

"Why aren't you wearing socks? You look like you're freezing to death," Matt said.

"My feet aren't cold," I lied.

"I know this really fucks up your plans, but it's the card we've been dealt, and—"

I shook my head. "Don't worry. Candy Cane's already working on a solution. Just tell me what's going on."

"Oh God, now you're losing it too." Matt sighed. "Anyway, it's a full ACL tear, sprained meniscus, and minimal damage to the MCL. He just about lost his mind when they told him he's done for the season, and when they told him they wanted to do an MRI to look for other damage, well, they had to sedate him. He's been pretty much in a constant state of panic ever since the happy drugs wore off."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, he said he doesn't want to lose Caroline, and he certainly doesn't want to disappoint you."

"Did you tell him that he hasn't disappointed me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want to lie to him."

I frowned. "Oh."

"If I were you, I'd let him talk to Arti for a little bit longer, then I'd go talk to him. He's—he's struggling," Matt said.

"Are you okay?"

"I shouldn't be on your list of concerns right now," he said, then looked down at the floor.

"But you care about him more than anyone else."

He didn't pick his head up, but he nodded.

"Matthew, don't—"

"I'm not—"

"Please, you know I'm not any good at—"

"I told you, I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. I see—"

"I'm not crying—"

"Then what's—"

"It's not a tear, that's for sure."

I held out my hand to him. "We can't all be as emotionless as me."

"Dammit, Amanda." He shook his head again, then picked it up to look at me. He smiled. "Just go talk to him. You're irritating me."

I stood up, adjusted the blanket more snuggly around myself, then smiled back at Matt.

"You cried too, I bet," he said.

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm not a little bitch."

There was a fine lie between love and hate, and my lie was that I didn't feel.

I felt everything, and in that moment, I felt like I had just gotten hit with a bus.

But fine lies were a lifestyle, an art even, that Arti taught me just a little too well.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Well, poop.

Can Amanda and Viktor work through this setback, or is the dream over?