Coach Carrington—our head coach—claps his hands as we skate toward the bench, and after a quick water break, we set back up at center ice to run power play special teams again, this time with a different line against us.
Kos wins the face-off, and we maintain possession, flying past the blue line, Costy leading the way with the puck on his stick. He dekes out one of the defensemen and finds an opening, straight down the slot.
Taking full advantage of the opportunity, he pulls left, leading Matty, our goalie, out of his sweet spot before reversing to the right and flicking his wrist.
The puck sinks into the back of the net, and once again, we huddle up, praising Costy for his play.
Coach Carrington swaps out a few of the players, trying different lines with different defensive pairs until we’re all exhausted and the practice comes to an end.
After the final goal of the day, Coach blows his whistle, and we all head back to the bench to wrap up.
Skates dig into the ice behind me, and by the time I hear him coming, it’s too late.
Burnsy slams into me, giggling like a little schoolgirl.
Catching myself, I tighten the muscles in my legs, but at the last second, I have to throw my left leg forward to balance myself out.
My knee lights up in pain, screaming at me while I stay completely silent and unyielding.
“Shit, JD. You good?” Burnsy grabs my shoulders, realizing that I’m not joking along with him, like I usually would after a little jab like this.
“Yeah.” I force the word out through my shaky exhale. “Just give me a second.”
“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, keeping his arm around my shoulders as we glide toward the bench.
The pain starts to fade, not entirely, but enough to play the part that it’s just fine because it is …totally fine.Everything’s under control.
Coach Carrington gives his wrap-up talk, going over what’s coming next, what to look forward to, and what he wants to see changed and improved. To be honest, I tune a lot of it out. He dismisses most of us, but asks his goalies to stay behind to go over some goalie things. I have no idea what happens between goalies and the coach aside from conversations I’ve overheard.
While goalies are a crucial part of the game and an active member of the team, their role is drastically different from everyone else. They play an isolated game, often times evenstaying out of timeout huddles and skating around on their own. They’re fascinating, strange creatures.
Kos, Costy, and Burnsy fall into conversation, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying because all I hear is Sam—one of our newer Nighthawks players—mumble under his breath, “Damn, the new PT is fucking hot.”
My gaze is already hunting, searching for where she’s at, and it takes me but a second to lock eyes with her in the tunnel behind the bench, waiting with some of the other staff.
Her hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and even from here, I can see how much it’s making her eyes pop. Her face is unreadable, and I can’t tell if she’s mean-mugging me or if she looks concerned—either is too much to bear.
I still can’t believe she read me so easily in the exam room last week. Now, I’m having to rely on her to help hide my secret, even if I know how dumb it is to keep it in the first place.
“She can examine me any day. Hell, I might fake an injury just to see her.” One of the other rookies, Ryan, chuckles.
Even though she’s not mine, even though I have no right defending her honor, as she claims, all I can see is red when Sam mutters, “I can help her stretch out if she wants.”
Wrapping my arms around each of their shoulders, I slide between them, scruffing the neck of their jerseys like feral cats, holding them firmly in place.
They both look my way, eyes wide and breath quickening with fear. I don’t look away from Lainey. I hold her stare the entire time.
“If you two fucks say another word about our new PT, if you hit on her or make her feel uncomfortable, I’ll have you hanging in the locker room by your panties before you can blink.” I squeeze them tighter, this time meeting their eyes one by one. “Got it?”
People have often told me that I’m intimidating and scary when I’m mad, and hell if that doesn’t seem like the truth by the way these two are looking at me right now.
“Yeah. Got it.”
“Yep.”
They stutter through their words, and I release them, watching them skate off the ice with their tails between their legs.
Looking up where Lainey is, I find the space empty, and my shoulders fall. I’ll find her later. We need to talk again—and this time without us nearly getting into a full-blown argument.
