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“Watch where you’re going.” His voice is harsh and his familiar scent washes over me. I step back while continuing to look down at my feet. “Sorry, that was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”
His breath hits the side of my face, and Landon whispers in my ear, “Look at me when you speak. Understood?”
”I understand.” I whisper with a nod and look up at him.
“You miss us?”
Chills roll down my spine, my face remains neutral, not giving anything away. “No,” I shrug while keeping eye contact.
“Liar.”
My breath hitches at his accusation, but I don’t respond.
“You loved it. You need it. You can’t help yourself from wondering if it will ever happen again.” My head shakes slightly in response, but he continues, “I can smell your desperate pussy from here, Banks. Stop. Lying.”
His last words bite. He meant them to sting.
Still keeping eye contact, I stand there, challenging him with my silence. His eyes squint as his head turns slightly. The stand-off continues until we hear loud footsteps coming toward us. His eyebrows raise.
“Until we meet again, Ms. Lewis. Thank you for all that you have done for me and my brother,” he winks as he walks away.
Letting out a sigh of relief once the owner of the loud footsteps turns the corner. “Cooper, get changed and hit the gym. No options. Only workouts,” Coach Taylor shouts. Landon nods in response and continues to the locker room. That is the Landon I know—or knew. The quiet, observant, and calculated one. Now I know another side to him, with more still to peel off, layer by layer. Just like they did to me.
25
HUDSON
It’s game night, baby. Fucking love this sport.
Adrenaline is coursing through my veins as I wrap my stick with tape. Tonight we play Texas State, bunch of pussies. Their delicate state bodies can’t even handle checks without crying to the refs. Just wait fuckers, we will really give you something to cry about if you try this shit again.
I chuckle to myself at the thought of Landon and Raiden throwing gloves with them. I, Hudson Cooper, the ever-so-morally-stable captain, would try and stop the madness, naturally. But those guys, our defensive duo, you can’t get between them, their fist and someone's face. So this morally high ground captain might just have to let it happen, I suppose.
“Bro, what’s so funny?” Landon questions.
“Ah, brother. I am just thinking about the pussy. Tonight is going to be a great game,” he stares back at me confused, unsure on how to respond, so he doesn’t. Landon nods and goes back to taping his own stick.
Before returning my focus back on getting ready, Lynx walks into the locker area. His dark brows are furrowed, and hisCalifornia bleach blond hair hangs over his forehead, he looks stressed. Motherfucker.
“Adams! Do not fuck this game up tonight with your nerves. You know how to play hockey. The minute your skate hits the ice for warm up, you will fucking judge yourself for being so in your head. It’s like riding a bike. You can’t fuck that up and you won’t fuck this up. Got it?” I am also really good at motivational speaking.
Lynx stands, absorbing my words and his head begins to nod. “Yeah, I know. First game back nerves and I don’t want to fuck up the team’s winning streak. A lot of changes were made so I could come back. It’s a lot, but it’s fine. You’re right, man.”
I roll my eyes, of course I am. “You’re my guy, you know my moves before I make them. There is nothing to worry about. Just let the magic fucking happen.” I stand up, and walk over to him, putting my arm around his shoulder. “Tell your nerves they are no longer needed here. We are fine. You are fine and let's go play some old-fashioned puck.” A few of the guys cheer at my last statement. We fucking love this game.
Lynx pushes me playfully away as he mutters to himself, now he’s smiling. Fucking right.
Sitting back in my locker, I look up at the clock. We don’t have much time before warm-up to get ready. I finish wrapping my stick and put my gear on, popping my helmet on last.
“Alright boys, let’s fucking go.” I shout into the room, and I head out to the hallway leading to the ice.
Back in thedressing room after warm-ups, Lynx had nothing to worry about. The guy stepped on the ice and immediately got his confidence back. Coach is standing by his whiteboard shouting plays at us and the first period game plan. I know the drill, forecheck, backcheck, paycheck. The paycheck will come when I sign to the pros. I can smell it, almost taste it. A few more months. We aren’t allowed agents in college, but there’s a guy I know and we talk regularly about my future. I still haven’t told him that I’m going to see if we can line up a team and sign out of college. It’s crazy to think that snatching Banks helped make such a massive life decision.
“Cooper, are you paying attention to me?” Coach Taylor shouts. Motherfucker.
“Yes, sir. We got this. Check Hard. Play Hard. Fuck Hard.” The guys join in and shout fuck hard with me.
“You little shits, I said enough of that goddamn chant.”
