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He nodded. “You want a hand to walk out there?”
I held in the urge to kick him because that wouldn’t go down well, especially with my knee. I would end up straight back in the hospital, considering he had so much padding protecting him. Too bad that didn’t help me when I’d been hurt. “No. You go. I want a few more moments in here.”
He eyed me carefully before he left, stranding me in the silence of the locker room.
I tugged out my phone and stared at it. With a sigh, I unlocked the screen and found Milo’s name. My thumb hovered over his contact. It’d been a while since I’d spoken to him, and I wasn’t sure who else I could talk to. The only other friend I had, Thane, was out on the ice getting ready to play with the others. It made me realize just how alone I was right now. Since I’d gotten to NGU, my life had revolved around hockey and schoolwork. Any chance I had at making more friends had been pushed aside for training and essays. Now that I didn’t have hockey, what did I have?
I locked my cracked phone and stuffed it back into my pocket. I grabbed the crutches before I began to hobble my way out of the locker room and into the hallway, which led up toward the ice. A door on the right was open, waiting for me, and it wasn’t easy to step up into the bench area, but I managed.
The moment Atlas’s gaze landed on me, he smiled, and my heart took off in a gallop. Maybe an on-ice collision was more apt because whatever happened, it wouldn’t end well. As angry as I was at life, I wasn’t really mad at Atlas. He’d only been trying to help.
“Sit down, kid.” Coach pointed at a space in the front row, and I fell onto the bench, sucking in a deep breath. I was here now and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
It turned out watching a hockey game without playing was the most difficult thing I’d ever done. It was hard not to shout at the team, trying to tell them what to do, but Atlas did a good job wrangling them. The MCU Minotaurs got some good hits in while trying to get the puck out of our hands, but Atlas gave it back as good as we got it. Boss and Miloševic also smashed some of the MCU players into the boards. Overall, it was a good game and we won 2-1.
McAvoy spent a lot of play in the penalty box, and he was as crazy as Coach had claimed. He’d attacked relentlessly, and I had no idea why he was allowed to play at all. I guess because the crowd loved him. Each time he ended up in the penalty box, the fans chanted his name. I vaguely recalled hearing somewhere that he was already drafted to a pro team but turned them down to complete college instead.
The team went to the locker room to shower and get changed. I chose to sit outside the building on a bench and wait for them. The entire night had been difficult enough without adding salt to the wound.
I stared down at my phone as I texted Milo.
Wystan: What does a guy do at college if he can’t play sports anymore?
I snorted at my own question.
“Oi! I know you.”
I froze at the unfamiliar accent and glanced up from my phone at the man who was heading my way. He had a large bag slung over his shoulder. It took me a moment to recognize McAvoy. I sat up straight as he reached me.
“You’re the bloke who got a skate to the knee in New Gothenburg. The former captain, right?” McAvoy smirked, and I took the time to give him a once-over. There was no doubt that he was attractive, with sandy blond hair and a tan that reminded me of a surfer rather than a hockey player. He had vivid blue eyes that gleamed in the bright outside lights of the arena, and he was tall. For a defenseman, or enforcer to be correct, he didn’t have a massive build. He reminded me more of a swimmer, but there was no doubt he had power behind him.
“Yeah. I’m Wystan Finch.” I held out my hand, and he shook it.
“Cord McAvoy.” His smirk widened. “Best fucking defenseman.”
I snorted before I could stop myself and dropped his hand. “Is that why you spent so much time in the penalty box?”
“Just getting started, mate. Reminding people who I am.”
“British?” I asked, not quite sure. I’d never heard him speak until today.
He laughed. “Fuck off. I’m Aussie.” He pointed at my knee immobilizer. “Pretty shitty luck there, hey? But it’s even shittier that your college dropped your scholarship.”
My muscles turned rigid. “You know?”
He shrugged. “Hockey news spreads worse than a bushfire around these parts.” He took a seat beside me on the bench. “If your team doesn’t appreciate you, mate, maybe you should consider another one. My dad’s the coach of our team, and we’re looking for a bloke like you. We could talk to the uni about a scholarship for next year, too. I know the scouts watch us more than NGU. You’re good.”
“It isn’t that easy....” Fuck, but how awesome would it be?
He grinned. “My dad’s got some sway. They pulled him out from Australia to coach our team. If he says jump, I reckon MCU would ask how high.”
I frowned, my mind working as I considered the possibilities. “Can I have your number and we can chat?” I passed him my phone, which he took happily.
He typed in his name as a contact right as the guys started to filter out from the arena. Atlas stalked over toward us immediately, eyebrows dipped in irritation as he came to a stop near my side.
“What are you doing, McAvoy?”
McAvoy—Cord as he’d added his name into my phone—winked at him. “Stealing your man, you frosty son of a bitch.”
