Without complaint, he listens and tries again. This time, I give up a little space, letting him near enough to shoot, but I block the shot.
Without saying a word, I send the puck down the ice again. Letting out a small sigh, Blaine obliges and scurries to the puck. Letting him in shooting range again, I intercept the puck on his shot again.
A loud tormented groan comes from Blaine. His eyes narrow and fix on me in frustration.
“Want me to shoot on you?” I suggest.
“C’mon, Luc,” Blaine complains. “You’re a two-way player. I can’t beat you on defense or offense.”
With an awkward chuckle, I mutterthanks. I don’t take compliments well from my team, especially when it's about how I can play offense and defense equally well. I can slam down a block, but I anticipate defensemen’s moves, rather than make them.
“Alright fine, practice getting rebounds then?” I ask, trying to think of something to work with him on where he won’t feel intimidated. Blaine’s always been a great player and he’s improved his game a lot since last season, but since we haven’t gotten along in the past I want to show him that it’s over.
He nods in agreement, moving to grab a cone to set in the middle of the goal for me to shoot against.
Blaine snags rebound after rebound perfectly, even tipping a few into the net with a swift wrist shot, despite the cone taking up space.
Sounds of our teammates fill the arena as practice gets close to starting.
“Good stuff.” I hold out my hand to Blaine for a slap handshake. “Keep pushing.”
"Still can’t beat you,” Blaine mutters under his breath.
“You’ve put in a lot of hard work, it’s obvious,” I assure him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve never practiced with just me before.”
Blaine’s eyes meet mine, his tone serious. “Surprised you let me.”
At that comment, a laugh escapes me. “Yeah well, you’re less of a pain in my ass nowadays, Mitch.”
Blaine’s nervousness reminds me of myself the first time I was on the ice alone with Nick Bellinger. I was so intimidated by Nick I thought I’d fall straight on my ass. My game was sloppy but he never judged me. He saw potential in me.
Despite how much I couldn’t tolerate him last year, I see so much potential in Blaine. Maybe I can be an impactful mentor for Blaine beyond being his captain and teammate, just like Nick was for me.
Once practice starts, my eyes dart every direction, watching the team practice and fucking flowing with happiness. We just kicked offour full practice schedule and the Wyverns might be in the best shape we’ve been in in years, and we made it to the semifinals last year.
Ryder King is always in the right place at the right time—great off-puck instincts. His “Nothing can stop us” attitude has already uplifted every single player, making them work harder and play better.
When Ryder and Blaine are on the ice together, they are a force to be reckoned with. Like gears in a machine, they move in perfect harmony, anticipating each other's moves almost flawlessly.
For the first time this season, my heart aches a little, wishing Liam and Conner were both back on the Wyverns instead of graduating last year. My mind dreams up a place where the five of us are on the ice. We’d be unstoppable.
I’m not the only one on the team that notices the on-ice connection or how much effort Blaine has put into his game.
“You think people will vote for Mitch to be an alternate captain with the way he’s playing,” I overhear someone ask.
“Fuck yeah,” Silas responds enthusiastically. “Bro is fucking fire.”
A few of the team nod. I might provide my thoughts to the coaching staff who have the final say, but team voting always is taken into consideration. Seems like Blaine Mitchell shed his old gear and left his old ways in the past.
Tyler lets out a huff of frustration, eyes narrowing as he watches Blaine on the ice. His disdain for Blaine is obvious, but if it starts to impact the team, he’s going to replace Blaine as the thorn in my ass.
Coach blows his whistle, signaling for the guys to bring it in.
“Eight a.m. sharp tomorrow in the workout room,” Coach commands. “Don’t be late.”
He turns to me, glancing at me and then back at the team with raised brows, urging me to chime in.
“You heard the man, don’t be late,” I back up Coach. “We don’t want any extra suicides.”
