“On the ice now!” Wallace bellows into the locker room.
“Can’t wait until we’re off this fucking team,” Korbin steps up beside me, muttering into my ear.
I nod in agreement, grabbing my gloves and helmet, as we both head out of the locker room.
At least for the first part of practice, I won’t have to listen to Wallace bitching since I’ll be working with Norward, the goalie coach, and Von Keene, the backup goalie. He’s a good guy, and a decent goalie. He just lacks confidence. I’m hoping to help him gain some before I leave.
I head over to Coach, my skates skidding to a halt as Korbin heads in the other direction.
At the end of practice, Korbin and I hang back on the ice to run some drills. Everyone else hightails it to the locker room, and Wallace and the other coaches leave as well. It doesn’t slip my attention that their eyes drift back to us. That’s right, fuckers; this is why we’re the best fucking players on the team.
I stand tall in the crease, my chest rising languidly under my heavy pads. I tap the post with the butt of my stick twice. Right post then left. It’s my ritual, both in the game and in practice. It’s my way of waking up my body and telling it that it’s time to get serious. To defend our net against everything.
Korbin is already moving toward me, his blades cutting through the ice in confident slices, body leaning into the turn. He flicks the puck from forehand to backhand, keeping it close, letting it roll and whisper across the ice as he maintains total control.
I sway side to side on my skates as Korbin continues toward me, his legs gliding with quick, deliberate strokes. Korbin gazes right at me, his eyes focusing on my gloves, where they wrap around my stick. I don’t bite, though. This is a way of trying to psych out the goalie, but it won’t work on me. Instead, I track the puck like it’s the only thing in the world that exists.
A quick deke. A shoulder fake. A burst of speed.
I drop into a butterfly, my knee pads slamming to the ice in one smooth move. The shot comes fast, snapping off Korbin’s stick, rising just a little too high. But I move fast, and my glove finds it with a satisfying thwap.
We both halt our movements, catching our breath.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about,” Korbin shouts as he skids to a stop beside me, his skates kicking up ice at me.
When we look to our left, we see Lincoln leaning on the railing, phone in hand, a distracted look on his face.
Her. He’s talking to her. Again.
“You texting your Kraken again?” I call out, teasing but curious.
Lincoln doesn’t even look up, just grins. “Maybe. Why do you care?”
I roll my eyes at him as Korbin lets out a growl, muttering something under his breath. Yeah, he’s not happy with this development.
“Man, you’ve got it bad. She’s probably got a Kraken logo on her pillowcases,” I reply back as Korbin and I skate over to the bench.
Lincoln laughs. He types something quickly on his phone before slipping it in his pocket.
“She’s different. Smart. Funny. Not what I expected,” he tells us, as he rubs his hand through his hair. “Bayleigh is not her brother,” he adds softly.
I smirk, pretending that I’m not intrigued by the way Lincoln describes her—soft, sure. Like it actually means something. I don’t even try to ask him what he means by different, but the need to know the answer to the question sticks with me longer than I’d care to admit.
“Let’s go get some beer and stop talking about Krakens,” Korbin growls as he heads toward the locker room.
Lincoln lets out a heavy sigh, and I shrug my shoulders. “I’ll meet the two of you outside.” He turns and heads toward the exit.
“Can you believe him? My brother salivating over Benton’s sister?” Korbin snarls as I enter the locker room and start undressing.
“She’s different,” I sing-song, mimicking Lincoln’s words.
Once we’re changed, we head outside. Lincoln is sitting in his truck, parked beside Korbin.
“Are we ready? Or do you need to check in with your omega obsession?” Korbin asks.
Lincoln flips him off then starts his engine, revving it before backing out and heading to the bar.
“You should cut him some slack,” I tell him, heading to the passenger side and getting in.
