“Alright, starting lineup, get out there and take this home,” Coach called.
My pack and I hurried over the boards, letting all the bullshit fall away. The bond was open but quiet as we all locked in. My skates cut into the ice as I tracked the puck, watching it ricochet off of their goalie again.
The fans were going insane as we fought for control of the puck.
Rodriguez, their center, was trying his best to drive it toward our net, and he had a hell of a shot, but Mason and I worked together to shut that down.
I could feel Mason’s confidence, solid and steady, and I let it wrap around me as we wrestled the puck away near the neutral zone.
The game pressed on, both teams giving it everything. The puck slid back and forth, fast and vicious. I stole it clean and snapped it into the net just as Coach pulled us in for a line change.
“Hell of a shot out there, Lennon,” Coach said, clapping his hands. He was downright giddy right now.
“Thanks, Coach.” I grinned, taking a long pull from my water bottle as the second line jumped in.
Conrad might have been unhinged yesterday, but tonight he was focused, blocking everything the other team threw at him. I could see their frustration building, and despite how well they were playing, I took a little satisfaction in it after watching them gossip all fucking night.
I knew this was only the beginning. Now that word was out, and that fucking picture was circulating, there was going to be more.
A lot more.
The picture wasn’t exactly flattering, but it was hot as fuck. It didn’t paint us in a good light, especially when she was known to be packed up already.
I was just waiting for the media to start calling her names. It felt like they were always eager to blame the omega, even though this was completely on her exes shoulders. That didn’t always matter when it came to revered hockey players.
The other team was growing bolder and more desperate as they fell behind. More than a few nasty comments were flung our way. We’d played dirty against the Narwhals and that was enough ammunition. Pair it with the gossip sites, and it was going to be a season full of bullshit.
Trash talk was part of hockey, teams would do anything to throw you off your game, but that shit wasn’t going to work on me. I’d just get mad and play harder. I’d prove to them that no matter what they fucking said, I would always take home that win.
“Next time we get out there,” Cade said, leaning in close to Mason and me and gesturing for Wilder and Kieran to join. “We finish this. I’m done with this gossip bullshit. I want you to wipe the ice with them. I don’t care how good they are. If you have to fuck them up, do it.”
“We’re on it,” Wilder said. “But keep it as clean as possible. This is only the beginning. We can’t spend the season in the sin bin.”
“I’ve read those sites more than I care to admit,” Cade added. “Doesn’t fucking matter. We know the truth. We know what happened. And when Lana’s ready, the rest of the world will too.”
“You’re up,” Coach called. I stretched out my neck and waited for the other line to move past before heading in. Our bond was no longer silent, it was thrumming with determination and frustration. It would only fuel us to kick ass.
By the end of the second period, we’d pulled ahead again. The gossip had stopped as their coach laid into them.
“Look, there’s our omega,” Kieran said with a grin as we flopped down on the bench, sweat dripping from our hair and faces.
Now that she didn’t have to hide, Lana was sitting in the staff section. I made a mental note to get her a spot in the box where packs and families were supposed to sit.
Knowing her, she’d refuse. She probably spent the first half making food and already had it waiting for us. There was never pressure with her. She understood that sometimes people wanted to go home or celebrate, but the food was always there regardless.
She was wearing a jersey. When she caught us looking, she grinned and turned around, sweeping her hair aside to show off FLYNN across her back. When she turned back, she cracked up at our expressions.
To be fair, Flynn was her last name, and if I had to pick favorites out of the rest of the team, Conrad definitely won. He was family.
“First-line back in,” Coach called.
The final period was always my favorite. My body ached in just the right way, muscles burning, adrenaline still pumping. I pushed harder, skating faster, stealing the puck, making sure Cade, our center, could drive it down the ice and take his shot.
Another goal. That made two in a row.
Wilder whooped, the rest of us joining in as the puck dropped again. Coach was seconds away from calling a change, and I found myself battling for possession one last time, desperate to sink it home.
When the final buzzer sounded, relief washed over me. I was ready to see Lana and make sure she was okay. We’d checked inall day, not because we didn’t trust her when she said she was fine, but because we worried all the drama might hit her later.
