Coach blows his whistle. “Again!” he yells and we all skate back to the beginning.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask Connor when I reach him.
He grins and nods at me. “I’m good,” he says. “Now let’s show these guys how it’s done.”
“Deal.” I grin back and ready myself for the Coach’s whistle.
It blows and we take off at full speed. Connor reaches the puck first and I play like I’m his bodyguard, keeping everyone away from him, giving him all the space he needs to dance with the puck. He fakes left, then right, then left again, sending Bouchard back and forth and leaving the right side open for Connor to slip one right past the post and into the net as he skates by at full speed.
Coach blows his whistle again and I slap Connor’s stick blade he has raised high above our heads with mine.
“That’s enough for today, boys!” Coach says. “Bouchard! I expect you to hand deliver two cases of beer to Kennedy and Marshal’s room before curfew.”
“Actually,” Connor says, “I’ll match him, and we can buy a couple cases for everyone to split in the team meeting room tonight. I think everyone earned it.”
Bouchard claps Connor on his helmet with his gloved hand and gives his head a shake. “Sounds like a deal,” he says. “It’s about time we all saw the golden boy get drunk.”
Connor
“Have fun, boys!” Coach Chris says, depositing a few extra cases of beer into the team room. He cracks one open and takes a long, deep pull off the can. “I’ve ordered dinner for us all, but curfew is still in effect. All of you need to be back in your rooms by ten. No excuses!”
Quickly, beers are plucked from the cases by my teammates. Gavin reaches into one of the cases and tosses a can to me. I catch it and crack it open. I take a sip and watch as Gavin is pulled into conversation by the guys and jostled about. Max Franklin hands him a beer but he never brings it to his lips. Eventually, I see Bouchard casually grab it from him and replace it with the empty can he just finished. It’s a practiced move, and I wonder if I’m not the only person Gavin’s told the story about his mother to. Or maybe Bouchard knows him well enough from being a Blizzard that he’s used to seeing him not partake in alcohol. Regardless, it’s endearing seeing him make the subtle swap without drawing attention to it or to Gavin.
Strangely, as I sip my beer and eat some of the food Coach had sent up, I have a lot of time to think and wonder as I watch the team interact. I lean against one of the tables in the back. They laugh and joke around, making them begin to look like a team of guys who might be able to play together and hopefully win together. Occasionally, Gavin looks my way, and with each glance,his face gets more worried. There’s a line forming between his brows.
He breaks away and comes over to me. “Come join us.”
I shake my head. “If they wanted me to join, they’d have included me.”
He frowns, then leans against the table beside me. Our arms brush. “I want you to join.”
“Do you?” I can feel my cheeks flush, and he knocks me a bit with his shoulder.
“Yeah. I do. Very much.” He’s frowning a little as he pulls away from the table and grabs me by the shoulder, hauling me with him. “Come on. Come join the team. They’ll warm up when they see you loosen up.”
“Are you trying to take advantage of me?” I tease.
He leans in close and whispers, “Never.”
The word sends shivers down my spine. Am I imagining it, or was that the kind of “never” that says, when it happens, neither one of us will be being taken advantage of? We will both be willing participants. And boy oh boy, am I willing.
Gavin takes my empty beer can and tosses it into a nearby bin. He’s about to hand me another one when Bouchard comes over and slides in front of him. I hold my breath, not sure what to expect, but he surprises me and holds out a new can for me. I take it. “Thanks.”
“I can’t believe you got two past me,” he says.
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. He’s a great goalie with sharp reflexes even on his bad days. He wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case.
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t because of me.” He tips his head towards me. “I know it got pretty rough out there.”
“It’s all good,” I say, and give him a placating smile. “Part of the game, right?”
“Yeah.” He laughs, then gestures with his chin at Gavin. “You might want to tell your man that. Because he’s going to knock some of these players into next season if they try anything like that again.”
I try to conceal the thrill that runs through me at the fact Bouchard referred to Gavin as “my man.” It’s not even what he meant, but the sound of it pleases me more than it should. I look at Bouchard and pop my can open to take a sip. “Just think about how much worse it would be if he wasn’t on our team.”
“Thankfully, that’s something I’ve never had to think about.” He laughs. “I’ve been fortunate enough to play with him my entire career to know firsthand he means business when it comes to protecting his teammates.”
My stomach drops as I remember that this is what Gavin does. He protects his team, not just me. “Isn’t that the truth,” I say and raise my beer, holding it up in Gavin’s direction. “We’re lucky to have him.”
