Page 80 of Offside Angle

I snort as the memory hits me. High school. The two of us stealing each other’s shoes all the time because they were always the same size. Never clothes, though. We always had completely different styles, even back then. And even now I feel ridiculous in his soft shirt. It’s so light I can barely feel it against my skin… just like this motherfucking tease.

I narrow my eyes at him.

He just smirks back at me.

Game 6.

I’m behind the glass with my camera raised, working through warm-ups the way I always do while the arena steadily gets louder around me. The energy tonight is sharper than usual, restless in that particular way elimination games always are. If the Reapers lose, the season ends here.

My mind drifts to this morning. Matteo kissing Shane. In any other circumstances, I wouldn’t be okay with it. Not even a little.

But he needed to know. He needed something concrete enough to quiet whatever part of his brain had been tearing him apart for weeks, and apparently making out with his half-naked goalie before breakfast was the scientific method he settled on.

Idiotic.

Effective, unfortunately.

And if kissing Shane once is what it took for Matteo to come running barefoot to my room afterward, grab my face, and tell me it was only me, then I can tolerate it.

Once.

My gaze shifts to Jace and I smirk. That little shit helped him last night. I should remember to thank him at some point.

“Santi!”

I turn at the sound of my name and smile when I see Vivienne walking toward me. She pulls me into a warm hug like she always does.

“Viv,” I greet her, returning the hug. “Where’s Rafa?”

“Grabbing snacks,” she says with a fond roll of her eyes. “He loves the pizza these guys have.”

I snort. That tracks.

She pulls back and studies me. “How are my boys?” she asks.

“Getting there,” I say with a small smirk.

Vivienne’s face softens even more. She reaches up and pats my cheek the way she used to when I was a teenager. “You grew up into such a fine man, Santi. I’m proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Viv.”

She gives me one last squeeze before turning to watch the ice, and I lift my camera again. But my eyes keep drifting back to Matteo, stretching, completely unaware that his mother just gave us her blessing.

I raise my camera and focus on the opening faceoff, capturing the intensity that always comes with a Game 6.

I haven’t been with the team long. Before this job, I was only into hockey because Matteo kept dragging me everywhere when we were teenagers. He never asked if I wanted to go — he just expected me to be there. And I always was. I never played. God, no. But I know the game. I learned it the way you learn anything when you’re in love with someone who lives and breathes it. I was always the one on the sidelines, camera or not, cheering him on.

So when Elias locks in for the faceoff, I recognize greatness immediately.

That kid is amazing. One of the best centers I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve kept close track of every NHL center over the years, but damn. Very rarely does Elias not win a faceoff. His stats are through the roof, and the way he reads the play before it even develops is something else. Him and Cole are a pair not to be messed with. Those two are going to be legendary. From what I’ve gathered, they already won the Cup together last year — I wasn’t there for it, but the way the team talks about that run makes it clear it was special.

I keep one eye on the action through the lens and the other on Matteo. The same focused intensity he used to have when we were kids, only sharper now.

I press the shutter as Elias wins the faceoff clean and the Reapers surge forward.

This is what Matteo always dragged me to see.

And somehow, I’m still here watching him.