Propping my chin on his bare chest, I watched him breathe. “I’m just making sure you didn’t climb back out the window.”
He opened his eyes, pinning me in place. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” Shifting closer, I let my weight settle against his side. “Also, I’m thinking about how great it is to have you back on the team and back on the ice.”
He tilted his head, studying me. The cut on his cheekbone stretched as his jaw worked. “Fair enough.”
Knocking my knee against his thigh, I held his gaze. “So, we stick to the plan. Behind closed doors, we do whatever we want. In public, I ignore you. Simple.”
“Sounds miserable.”
“It will be.” A short laugh escaped me before I could trap it. “But watching you lose that roster spot was worse.”
His smirk grew a little wider. “Do you want me on that roster, or do you want me in your bed?”
“I want you on that roster.” I shifted up onto my elbow, close enough to count the flecks of brown in his dark irises. “The bed is just a bonus.”
Aleksey hooked an arm around my waist and hauled me back against his chest. “Generous of you.”
“I’m a generous guy.”
The drafty air bit at my bare shoulders, a sharp reminder that morning skate was coming and that surviving the team fallout would be just as brutal as surviving my dad’s conditional checks.
“The locker room is going to be ugly,” I said, my grin shifting into a frown. “Trenton getting expelled means some of the legacy guys are going to be hunting for a target.”
Aleksey tightened his grip on my waist. “Let them try. I earned my jersey.”
I shifted, then captured his lower lip between my teeth and gave it a quick tug. “Just promise me you won’t drop your gloves and get into a fight before breakfast.”
Aleksey rolled me onto my back, pressing his body over me against the floorboards. “I make no promises.”
I knew he didn’t like the idea of backing down at all. Neither did I. But keeping him on the team was the most important thing.
Goosebumps broke out on my arms as I pushed myself up off the floor.
“We need to get up.”
Aleksey let go of my waist and sat up. “Yeah.”
Forty minutes later, the biting wind from the mile walk to the arena still stung my cheeks. To keep the fragile truce with my father intact, Aleksey and I split up at the loading dock. I swiped my keycard and walked the concrete tunnels alone.
The sharp scent of stale sweat hit hard the second the locker room doors swung shut behind me. And as soon as they did, half the room went quiet.
Over by the premium stalls, Clay stopped taping his shin guards and stared openly at me, a slight sneer fixed on his mouth. A few other legacy guys mirrored the look. Trenton’s expulsion had turned my side of the bench into a quarantine zone.
Dropping my canvas bag onto the wood, I dug a roll of tape out of the side pocket. Two stalls down, I noticed Perez rip a strip of black friction tape off his own roll.
“Surprised you showed your face,” Perez muttered over at me. He didn’t look directly my way as he smoothed the tape flat against his stick blade, keeping his focus down.
“Got a practice to skate,” I shrugged.
Perez paused his wrapping. He pointed his chin toward the hallway. “Is he actually coming?”
“He’s giving it five minutes. He’ll be in.”
Leaning his hockey stick against the wall, Perez shifted his weight. “Well, you might want to text him to take ten. Clay has been riling up the legacy side. They are treating Trenton like a martyr.”
Gripping my tape roll tighter, I scanned the room. “What exactly are they planning?”
