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“Nah, I’m good.” I shifted my weight and knew instantly that I’d fucked up.
Coach raised his eyebrows. “So, there is a girl?”
Fuck.
Cooper slapped the back of my head. “Damnit, Crush. Let’s get out there.” He shot me a dark look. I’d be hauled over the coals more than once after this game.
But first, we had to win it. Still...
“She hauled my ass out of the desert!” I protested, but no one listened to me.
Shaking my head, I followed my team out of the locker room, my gear an old friend that dropped me into the mindset I needed to focus on the game.
The crowd was rowdy as hell as we lined the benches and stared out at the ice. After being cooped up in a trunk for a few more hours than I was sure were necessary, I wanted to feel the glide beneath my feet, to pump adrenaline out on the hard and unforgiving surface I knew so well.
Our mascot, the Ice Phoenix that Wrenlee had emblazoned across the back of her sweatshirt, danced in front of us, riling the crowd in a warm up act I’d seen several dozen times before.
I made my way past my guys, tapping a helmet here, a quick word there until I hit the other end of the line and stopped next to Coach. Raising my attention from my team, I scoured the crowd for where Jason might have seated Wrenlee.
It took a minute, but she was there, in a decent seat across the ice from us. Not behind the players like I wanted but then with the Icenator’s mood, he probably did me a solid. Her gaze was fixed on me, and she gave a tiny wave.
I grinned back at her, and swung around, nearly decapitating Cooper and Coach.
When the latter glared up at me, his gaze muddied. “We’ll talk after the match, Crush,” he muttered. “You’ll tell me everything. Now fucking focus.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stop kissing my ass, Captain. Get out there and show them how to play hockey.”
I turned to my team and was met with a bunch of smarmy, shit-eating grins. One look at where Wrenlee sat told me everything I needed to know, and I wanted to wipe the grins off all their faces.
After the game, maybe.
The usual energy I reserved for game day lit deep within me, adrenaline already coursing through me in a pre-emptive response that had been trained into me over years of games.
“The King decided to turn up after all!” Abner Brooks-Caulfield yelled from behind me in his Ice Phoenix costume to thump my shoulder pads.
“It’s Emperor, fuckwit. Get off the ice so we can play.” The ribbing was good natured, and Abner had the most passive nature of anyone I’d ever met.
“Go round up some girls for us, Letterman!” Someone else shouted from the reserve ranks.
I fixed the caller with a hard stare. “Mind on the game. Find your own pussy afterwards. No body wants a fucking loser.”
“Seriously?” Cooper glanced over my shoulder, and his head swung back to me so fast, he became a blur that cramped my empty stomach. “You’re fucking around with a girl at the start of the season? Right before a game?”
“Yeah, I fucked around with a girl after some asshole beat me over the head and dumped me in his trunk then left me in the middle of the fucking desert. That girl? She’s the onewho brought me back.” I jammed my helmet on my head more securely and checked my gloves. “Now let’s go play some hockey. I need to hit something.”
Littleton played hard and fast from the start. It felt damn good to get moving again after being so cramped in such a tiny space for so long. The game raced by me in a blur of passing and scoring, finding their weaknesses. By the time we were in the third period, my need to move had greatly worn off.
My energy depleting fast, I channeled everything I had into finishing the game on a win for the team, and to hold up my end of the bargain as both center and captain. I pushed this morning far from my mind and focused on getting that asshole of a puck across the ice and into the net.
Early on in the game my right defence, Reid Pereira, pointed out a few weaknesses in their wings. Their unpractised passes left big gaps that were perfect for interceptions.
Reid had a damn good eye for strategy, and I’d be as lost without him as I would be without Cooper. The three of us formed the main body for boosting morale and keeping the team motivated.
We’d attempted to capitalize on his observation for the first two periods, but someone or something always got in our way. Finally, he managed. The moment Reid made his second interception and passed the puck to me was the moment Littleton recognized their own weakness. They closed in around me, blocking me off from my wings and defenders.
I pushed through the mess of players with little headway. The puck got lost between their boots, and I was stuck.
