“Easy, easy,” Hunter said, using his whole body as a block between our captain and me.
“Tell your D-man to get his shit together, or I’m calling the change myself,” he spat, then skated off again.
“He’s not my D-man,” Hunter muttered.
I clapped him on the back. “Thanks, man. I—”
“I’m done sticking my neck out for you,” he snapped, looking me dead in the eye. “Get it together, or get off the ice.”
The game had to go on, and I had to keep up with it. One look at the bench, and Coach’s face was a mirror of Grayson’s. Of everyone’s. We had it all on the line, and I was letting it slip away. Again.
I flexed, ignoring the flare of pain, and squared up for the oncoming attack. The puck flew toward the crease. I dropped low, my shoulder screaming against the force of impact, and shoved a Dallas winger aside. It wasn’t pretty or textbook, but it kept it away from the net. My breath came in shallow bursts, my body riding adrenaline and anger at myself for the fumble before.
First period ended with nothing to show for it, but Dallas retaliated hard in the second. Two-on-one break off the whistle, their flash winger sneaking around the net. I lunged, arm extended in a grimace, and tipped the puck just enough withmy stick to send it careening toward Tucker, who scooped it up and away. My fingers tingled from the pain, and I swayed on my skates as I watched him team up with Mason in a spectacular partnership.
One block sidestepped, then another, then Grayson rose up out of nowhere to collect the puck as it shot out of a huddle. One touch, and goal.
Hunter banged his stick on the side of his net, but hung back from the celebration. “What’s gotten into you, man?”
I clenched my jaw and skated right past him without saying anything.
Third period, five minutes left, tied game after Dallas snuck one by Hunter. Sweat stung my eyes, but I didn’t dare blink. Not with the game devolving into total chaos. First Mason, then Shawn got body-slammed, freeing the puck for the Dallas winger waiting just outside. But instead of picking it up and coming for me, he dropped his stick and his gloves.
“Ah, shit,” Hunter cursed behind me, as the winger went into a full-on fight with Shawn.
I knew what that meant, and groaned when the players started breaking off into their own fights on the ice all around them. Hunter zoomed past me to take out the guy headed my way, but Tucker and Grayson were two-manning someone close by, and I had to dodge stray fists and elbows. The crowd’s roar was a wall of sound that vibrated through the boards and into my legs.
I valleyed back, trying to remove myself from the periphery of the fight, but all I did was make it so much worse. A Dallas forward barreled straight at me, chest-first into my shoulder. It wasn’t my voice crying out, rising above the noise in the arena. I’d never heard anyone who sounded like that, let alone me. Pain exploded, a hot flare ripping through me, but even so, I plantedmy skate and twisted, sending him sprawling across the ice. I wasn’t sure whether it was sweat or tears that I was tasting, but I didn’t really care. I wasn’t going to go down, not now.
The clock had bled down to the final sixty seconds, with the game back on. Fights forgotten as each team looked for that elusive winning goal. Mason fed the puck to Grayson in the slot, and I skated hard to cover the left side, my shoulder screaming with every stride. The seconds counted down to a moment that would either break the game open, or break me.
Next thing I knew, Landon launched over the boards. The kid had balls for days, and he let it all hang out. His blade sliced through the ice as he went straight for Grayson’s hand-off. Time slowed, and I was one of the riveted audience watching him do his thing. He juked a defender, scooped the puck up—and I watched everyone’s head tilt back to track the motion—he took it out of the air with his stick, and slotted that baby right between the goalie’s legs.
The team erupted around me, sticks slamming the boards, shouts cutting through the arena. I had nothing left to give because of the raging fire in my arm. In fact, it was this second that the sounds around me started to dull. As if I were bundled up in gauze.
Dallas didn’t take losing quietly. Fists flew, bodies collided, and I was caught in it before I knew what was happening. And after that last impact, it didn’t take more than their dickhead goalie’s side-swipe to get me off my skates.
The funny part was feeling nothing after that initial explosion of pain when I hit the ice. I didn’t see much either, just flashes of pin-pricks hurting my eyes. There was probably screaming, but I couldn’t be sure. Somebody was on me, fists swinging with blinding accuracy, the fight moving around me in a whirlwind I couldn’t escape.
“Get out of my way! Move! Oh, my God, Theo!”
As pain radiated in jagged lines up my neck, and everything went white around the edges, quickly fading black, I thought of another funny thing: She’d never called me by my name before.
16
Reese
“What, no flowers?” His smile was the same, if only a little pale around the eyes.
The obnoxious pressure cinching my chest all day thinned to a whisper. A smartass this quick couldn’t be in that bad shape.
“Why would I bring flowers to someone who isn’t an invalid, and is also perpetually fine?”
He didn’t show it, but I could tell by the approving glint in his eyes I’d scored some extra points. Theo held the door open with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “Touché, Hopper, touché.”
The place was huge, which was one thing, but the tasteful decor is what really threw me. His apartment looked like it had been lifted straight from one of those interior design magazines always piled high at the doctor’s office. It was also squeaky clean, and not just for a guy living on his own. Part of me burned with delayed mortification at the state of my apartment when he’d come around the other night. Nowhere near this put together, and decidedly quaint, in keeping with my measly salary.
I turned on the spot, half-expecting a butler to emerge from a hallowed hall somewhere and call us through to the esteemed dining room. “Jesus, I suddenly feel underdressed.”
