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27
RAKE
“Hanson, where is your goddamn focus?”Coach’s bellows across the ice. “You give up the puck like that on game day, and we’re gonna have a long talk.”
Fuck.
My head is not in today’s practice and it couldn’t be more fucking obvious.
This doesn’t happen to me. My concentration is absolute. Nothing gets beyond the vault that is my brain when it comes to hockey.
Until today.
What do you do when you’re skating down the ice, getting ready for an assist, and something explodes in you so loudly, you’re sure everyone else heard it too?
Yeah. It’s like that.
I skate over to Coach. “I’m feeling a little under the weather. I’m sorry,” I lie.
Under the weathersounds a hell of a lot better than mooning over some woman whom you just realized is the most awesomefucking thing to happen to you in a long goddamn time. Possibly ever.
Coach scowls, looking me up and down. “You know, Hanson, most guys, when they get married, havebetterconcentration. It’s something about the stability or some shit, that helps a man out. But you, you’re fucking up left and right. I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” I say.
He slaps me on the back. “Go shower up. I’ve tortured you enough for one day.”
Coach is a good guy and I always want to do my best for him. Lying feels shitty. Really shitty.
I stand under the hottest water I can stand in the locker room shower, just letting the water beat down on my head, like that will clear away the cobwebs and make me good as new. When I start to realize that’s probably not going to work, I switch the water off, wrap my towel around my waist, and return to my locker.
“Yo, Hanson. Tough practice today, huh?” Tyler asks, reaching into his locker, which is just across from mine.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I say, shaking my head. I rub the towel over my hair. I want to get out of here. I’m not up for small talk.
“Are you okay, buddy?” he asks, sitting on the bench beside me.
I crane my neck to see up and down the rows of lockers. “Is anybody else around?” I ask.
Tyler joins me in looking. “I think the other guys are still on the ice. What’s up?”
“I like her, man.”
Tyler tilts his head. “Who? You like who?”
I roll my eyes. “My wife, man. Myfakewife.”
He studies me. “Wow. Okay. I’d say that’s a good thing, but I’m getting the vibe that you aren’t happy about it.”
“I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s just so… unexpected. I mean, Petal is not my type, and this was supposed to be only for publicity anyway. But she’s… getting under my skin. She’s freaking gorgeous and doesn’t even know it.”
“Have you guys… you know…” He makes the banging hand signal.
“We’ve messed around, even though we agreed we wouldn’t. That’s all I’m going to say. Except that she’s sexy as hell and ever since I’ve had to rub one out two and three times a day.”
Tyler drops his head back and laughs. “Look at you. Hey, just tell her what’s on your mind, man. Stop sitting around like a little bitch and talk to the woman. If she doesn’t feel the same way, she’ll tell you and you can get over your sorry self.”
We look up to see one of the guys from the equipment team coming over with a bin, collecting our gloves. “Hey Tyler, Rake,” he says.
