I nod, ignoring the pointed nature of that comment.I've told Coach I'm fine to play, and Mark did technically clear me, but that tingle in my thigh is still there.A taunting reminder that Ally isn't.
“Cross, you're centering the first line.Bright, you're on his right wing.Morrison, left.”Coach runs through the rest of the assignments, but I don't pay close attention.Instead, I try to subtly massage my thigh through my gloves and shorts.
Yeah, that's doing nothing.
“We win this game, we lock in home ice advantage for the first round.We lose, and we're fighting for scraps.Questions?”
Silence.
“Good.Now get out there and show them what Crusher hockey looks like.”
The team roars and we get in position for the faceoff.
Smith, SoCo's center, lines up across from me.“Cross.How's the thigh?”
I don't answer.Instead, I narrow my eyes, watching him.
It only makes him chuckle.“Don't worry, I'll try my best not to check your right side.”
He knows.They all do, no doubt.I've been managing this injury for weeks, but that doesn't mean I still can't be annoyed that they're going to use it as a tactic.
Don't respond.Just focus on the faceoff.
My thigh twinges on the pivot, and I have to grit my teeth to keep my expression neutral.
Not now.Don't let them or anyone else see the pain.Hold it together.
When the puck drops, everything else disappears.
The first period is rough.SoCo is all over me.With every touch of the puck, I'm surrounded by their players, and they're targeting my right side, unsurprisingly.
I play through it and manage a few solid passes, but I'm a little rusty.Thankfully, even on our worst day, we're better than these losers.
“You sure you're okay?”Cade asks during a line change, his breath fogging in the cold air.“You're grimacing every time you push off.”
“I'm fine.”
“Jay—”
“I said I'm fine,” I growl, then shake my head.Cade's my teammate.He's just trying to help.“Just...cover my weak side if you see me slowing down,” I say quietly.It's the closest to an admission that he's going to get.
Cade stares at me for a long moment, then nods.“You got it, Cap.”
The second period starts, and SoCo scores two minutes in.A screened shot that Dash never saw coming, the puck trickling through traffic and sliding under his pad.
1-0, Southern Collegiate.
“Fuck!”I slam my stick against the boards, frustration boiling over.We were supposed to control this game.We were supposed to dominate.
Instead, we're chasing.
I throw myself into the next shift, skating harder than I should, pushing through the pain because pain is just weakness leaving the body, right?That's what every coach I've ever had has told me.Pain is temporary.Glory is forever.
Ally would call me a fucking idiot.
The thought comes unbidden, and I shove it away.She doesn't get to live in my head right now.Not when I need to focus.
I chase down a loose puck in the corner, battling with SoCo's defenseman for position.He's bigger than me, but I'm faster...usually.Tonight, my legs feel heavy, unresponsive.He wins the battle, clearing the puck up the boards.
