“I think I can speak for the Direwolves when I say this is the most exciting game we’ve played all season.” The crowd is still roaring around us as Ryder speaks calmly. “Usually, after aRhode Islanders game, the anemic crowds can’t wait to go home. Now they’re all here, still excitedly soaking in the atmosphere. We haven’t had an NHL bench clearing,” Ryder says, brilliant blue eyes sparkling like glaciers in the stadium lights, “in what, a decade? And Ellie Clarke makes one happen. Watch—you’ll see viewer numbers skyrocket for the next few games. This is a great opportunity to bring new fans into the sport.”
He gives a brilliant smile.
“Everyone’s fired up about hockey, and we have you to thank, Coach. Can’t wait until our next match. See you in Manhattan.” He shakes Ellie’s hand. She seems a little dazed by the handsome captain.
I prod my teeth. They’re all there.
My pride’s not.
That’s the thing about Ryder O’Connell. He smiles as he flays you alive then says sorry for the beatdown.
I stalk down the hall, slam my way into the locker room. Ellie’s mom bustles around with ice and a first aid kit, trying to stem the bleeding. Granny Murray shoves a tampon up my nose.
Jovi bats the little blue string. “It’s like a mouse.”
I scream as Granny Murray uses the heel of her hand to push my busted nose back in place. “I bet he’s glad I brought alcohol now.” She waves the half-empty bottle of tequila at me.
Zayne is congratulating the rookies. “Your first NHL fight!”
I gulp tequila, letting it numb the pain as Ellie’s mom tapes an ice pack in a paper towel to my head.
I breathe through my mouth as Ellie knocks on the locker room door.
“Are you decent?”
“Unfortunately not,” Granny Murray calls.
13
ELLIE
Still hyped from the fight, the rookies chatter excitedly, comparing battle scars. Granny Murray yanks the tampons out of Fletcher’s nose. He bites back a curse.
I peer at him, inspecting the handsome but bruising face. He glares up at me with slate-gray eyes. Fletch looks like he’s going to murder me.
“You still have all your teeth. That’s something…” More glaring.
“I’m trying to figure out how to work the X-ray machine so I can see if his ribs are shot or not,” Granny Murray announces.
“Do you need help with your skate?” I start to bend down to untie his shoes.
“I’m fine,” Fletcher hisses out and turns away from me.
He’s having big feelings.I step back to give him some space.
I open the cooler. “I just want to tell everyone what a fantastic job they did tonight. This is the most fire and passion I’ve seen from this team all season. You should be proud of yourselves—you left it all on the ice. And we’re going to win the next game.”
“Ren didn’t—he still has some teeth left,” Ziggy jokes.
“I got a real good dentures guy,” Granny Murray tells him. “I’ll hook you up.”
He wordlessly fist-bumps her.
“For an after-game snack, we have Lunchables,” I tell them.
The rookies cheer. The older guys smirk. I’ve interviewed them after losses before, and they weren’t ever this amped up. There was a lot of quiet dejection. But now they’re keyed up as I pass out the snacks, ripping off the plastic.
“Can we have pizza Lunchables next time?” one of the rookies begs.
