I don’t know if I should laugh or give Ruko a lecture the next day when he picks me and Austin up to go to the game.
He’s . . . well, he’s wearing Lex’s sweater—in theory.
It’s just . . . it’s his Juniors sweater, so . . .
That’s not subtle, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the fans who are in suites next to ours or the ones in the seats in front of us who look up and point their phones eagerly at Ruko.
I’m wearing a simple tee and jeans, so no one gives me a second glance.
Maybe it’s because Ruko stands by the club chairs in the open section of the suite, where fans can see him perfectly. Standing tall with his arms crossed and that terrifying scowl on his face, it’s almost like he’s posing.
I don’t know if it’s for the fans or for Lex’s teammates who all skate out for warmups.
“Here we go,” I whisper to myself and decide that sitting next to where Ruko’s standing is the best course of action.
I get myself a Coke and debate with myself for a minute whether I should post a picture or something, maybe zoom in on Lex and say something ridiculous that could take attention away from Ruko’s wardrobe...
Then again, I don’t really want to diminish even a little bit of the impact he’s having.
So my phone stays in my jeans.
The game starts and I follow it along as best I can. I tug on Ruko’s arm after five minutes of playtime and force him to sit, then pepper him with questions about rules, plays, and decisions players make.
I’m pretty sure this is the best education a person could get when it comes to hockey, and soon enough, I can tell he’s only thinking about the game and not about... everything else.
The tension in his shoulders comes back, though, whenever Lex has the puck, and I realize, whenever Lex is on the ice.
Even I notice it then, how no one passes him the puck, and how he doesn’t pass to anyone either.
He’s all alone out there, and it’s heartbreaking in a way I never expected.
Those are supposed to be the men he can count on, and they’re just leaving him out there to fight on his own.
He gets one goal for the Empire in the middle of the second period, and he doesn’t even celebrate. Not even a smile while the fans in the stands go crazy and Ruko releases a war cry that only slightly resembles something celebratory.
But that’s as far as the scoring goes for either team.
I’ve always struggled not to get bored during hockey games—during all sporting events really. Of course I love watching Lex play, but he’s not on the ice all the time.
Now, with Ruko making sure I understand the logic behind every pass, or where players fuck up, what rules they break, it’s significantly more entertaining.
With only five minutes remaining in the third period, though, things get interesting again.
Lex takes a shot on goal, and it looks like it’s going in until the Montreal goalie bats the puck away with his stick. I groan right along with every other fan, but the puck lands right by one of Lex’s teammates.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Lex somehow plows into the goalie and all hell breaks loose.
“Lex,” I whisper helplessly as two of Montreal’s players grab him and startpommellinghim.
The outraged roar of the crowd barely registers for me as I watch punch after punch touch Lex’s pretty face.
“Motherfuckers!” Ruko roars.
“What—” I start to ask, but then it all stops.
The Montreal players let go of Lex and he falls like a puppet without strings on the ice.
I can tell he’s trying to stand, but he can barely get his hands under him.
