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He kisses me again, and his body aligns to mine in a perfect embrace. “Now go to sleep.”
Chapter Seventeen
I snuck backto Starlight Canyon the next two days after practice, but rather than draining me, being with Joey energizes me. Her wild laugh echoes in my mind along with the clink of our forks touching on a shared plate of food because now it’s not just practical, it’s romantic. We made love and talked until midnight both days about everything in the world, and I find the same peace she does when she talks about her first day back treating animals and how quiet her personal phone is now that she has a dedicatedwork one. Nothing earth-shifting happened those two days, and yet it’s the dawn of a new normal I hope to revolve around forever.
But today, a lot of the calm of the past couple of game-free days passes when I lace up my skates, ready to play the Huskies. And Eric Larose. Coach gives the pregame talks.
“The Huskies are our hardest game yet. They were last season’s number one, and you all know the focus this team has. I know you’re thinking they’re potentially the ones to break this streak we’re on. I don’t believe that. I believe that this is the team that will be holding the Stanley Cup this year. I believe you boys know how to make mistakes, pivot and stay loose. We’re home for this one, and it’s a big advantage as there are no better home fans than the Scorpions who are up in the stands willing this win. With the team we have, the crowd believes this is the year. We have every reason to believe in ourselves. We have Dane back, a full roster, and they’re down Polakowski and Kurtz. This night is yours, gentlemen. Make the most of it. Skates on.”
We all file toward our lockers, but Coach taps Logan on the arm.
“As usual, you won’t be on with Larose.”
Logan flashes one of his charming Hollywood smiles. “I expected that much but I don’t see why you won’t let an old boy like me have one last hurrah.”
“Case in point.”
Coach walks off, and I’m thinking of Eric Larose all over again. Logan never told me just how bad that motherfucker was. I thought he was just being overprotective. But now I know why he rages at the mere sound of his name. Coach is careful. Fights are standard, but us players know our limits typically, and he knows bad blood in real life between players can get ugly. I wonder if I’ll know my limitstoday. I hope I get a chance to find out, because I can’t ask when to be on the ice, but one thing I do know is I’m first line and Eric is, too.
I can’t believe I’ve shared the ice so many times before with Larose and did nothing. It’s illogical, but shame courses through me, knowing I did nothing for years when I should have been defending Jolie’s honor.
Hard to love.
His face will be hard to fucking love when I’m through with him tonight.
I step onto the ice, and we all warm up on our own halves. It’s dangerous not to focus on my teammates, but I’m pre-occupied. My mind is glued to the other side of the rink. Trying to focus on the drill we’re doing, I’m distracted by something else. In the corner of my eye, rink side, bouncy long blonde hair grabs my attention, and I glance over.
Jolie stands in a loose Scorpions jersey, and her matching sparkling jade eyes collide with mine. Her cheeks are rosy from the chill in the air. She’s with her niece and sister-in-law who have woven their way down to watch warmup before cheering from the box our families share. Eve has a foam finger on, reminding me of how I said I’d bring one to her event. Joey splats a big white card sign onto the plexiglass that has a phone on it readingYour Mom Called—You Left Your Game At Home.
Eve catches my gaze and screams. “Go Scorpions! Kick butt!”
Logan glides past them when his position heads that way.
“Go, Uncle Lo!!” Eve shouts.
I’m still looking at the Hunter girls when someone shouts.
“Dane!”
A puck whizzes by me, and I miss the pass from a drill I’ve done a thousand times.
One of my teammates, a rookie named Mahmoud, skates over. “You okay, man?”
He’s a talented guy who knows I should have had that pass. He doesn’t say more, but his expression tells me he’s not asking if I’m okay, but telling me he’s not impressed.
We all want to win this game. Beating the number one seed in the league would cement our prowess. But number sixty-six on the Huskies, the douchebag who thinks he can wear a variation of the mighty Gretzgy’s number, distracts me. I’m being unprofessional. I’m being… self-destructive.
But nothing dampens the rage building inside as I watch Eric Larose.
Logan skates dangerously close to the red halfway line where I’m sure a ref is watching carefully. He toes it but won’t be stupid enough to get a suspension by going over.
“Larose!” he shouts loudly enough for me to hear yards away. Eric doesn’t pay Logan any mind but it still doesn’t stop Logan from spouting, “Eat shit.”
Lots of players trash talk across the red line before games. And I’ve seen my friend do this several times since we’ve been on the same team. The same wave of guilt I felt over not defending Jolie all these years rises like bile in my throat over not supporting Logan, too. Not that either have said anything until my recent conversation with Jolie, but loyalty is one of those things friends don’t have to ask me for. It’s in my bones.
Warmups end, and just before the puck drops, Eric skates into position opposite me. In all the combinations of players who could be on the ice to start this game, I can’t help but think that me being right defense and Eric left is clandestine destiny.
Be smart, Dane. I tell myself to keep it cool. A fight for no reason this early in the game, risking injury… I’m not a rookie anymore. I should know better. Nothing is more important than winning. I have a team. I have a contract. I’m not Jolie’s boyfriend while I’m on the ice… I’m a Scorpion. But one last peek up toward the box, and I capture a heart-wrenching glance of that woman who deserves so much more than he gave her…
