My chest squeezes at the hope and awe in his face.
Tate is on fire tonight. The other team has been so worried about covering Fitz and Ripley that Tate’s had room to show off his skill tonight. He sits on the bench, resting between ice time. His eyes on me as he squirts water into his mouth. Flushed cheeks and heavy breathing.
This hockey game is playing between my emotions and libido too much tonight. I’m getting whiplash. They’re winning 3-2 when it’s time to break for the third period.
Chapter 20 Tate
“Damn, Daddy Bridges! You’re having a hell of a game tonight.” Quade calls out across the locker room.
“Hell yeah! Texas does it different.” Fitz grins.
I get head nods and a few slaps on the back as everyone makes their way to rest and go through their routines before the third period. I don’t comment because I don’t want to jinx the third period.
“I saw Alli in the crowd tonight. Close to the ice.” Ronan says calmly while he unlaces and re-laces his skates, adjusting the tiny cherry charm he keeps tucked in on it.
“Me too.” I smile “Did you see Matty and Hudson too?”
“Yes, and you’re taking my spot as Coolest Hockey Player with those dedications.”
I huff a laugh.
His expression sobers. “You know, Alli isn’t my big sister by blood. Hardly even a foster sister.”
“Oh yea? Six months seemed to solidify it for her.” I say carefully. I chug from my Gatorade and set it to the side. I match his stance, leaning my elbows onto my knees and turning my head to meet his gaze.
“Yeah. She took pity on me, orphan to orphan. Alli has a heart of pure gold. And she’s a damn good mother. So, man to man. Don’t let her down. I don’t know what specifically is going on between you two— and I don’t need to.” He says, eyes flicking between mine. Looking for something. “I think you could be really good for them.”
“I think we could be really goodtogether.” I say simply. “But she’s not ready for it yet.”
Letting him fill in any blanks on his own. Like hell am I going to tell her little brother she wants to be… friends with benefits? Neighbours who fuck and also sometimes babysit each others kids? I don’t even know exactly what to call it right now anyways.
“Give it time. She didn’t like me at first either. I had to burn down the kitchen trying to bake her a cake before she did.”
“Did that really work for you though?” I squint, pretending to consider that.
“I’d say so. She did it right back, fire and everything. Went right back to the group home with me. All worked out for her though. A somewhat nice foster family came along pretty quick.”
I’m retaping my stick with the familiar off-white roll. The one from a bulk box of tape Dadgot me, just like he has every year. I was embarrassed that he got me an off-white color. I didn’t think it looked as good. Threw a big fit about it not being right. No one else was really paying attention but at that age everything seems like it’s big and important. He told me it was lucky tape. Swore Gretsky used the same kind. He didn’t. But it’s still been lucky since that very first box helped me win a tournament.
Some would probably say it’s silly. I just don’t know what I’m going to do at the end of the season when the tape inevitably runs out. I wrap it just so and test the grip. Someone to my right lets out a huff. I ignore it.
“What’s up with the dingy tape?” I see someone’s arm reach behind me to my locker.
“Don’t touch my shit.”
“Hey, I’m just looking. It’s just tape. It’s like toilet paper— communal.” TJ smarts with his hands up in surrender- the off-white tape in his left hand.
“TJ.”I warn. I’ve been having a good game but he’s getting his shitty ju-ju all over my shit. No one touches my stick— No one touches my tape. I’m standing now, trying like hell not to act irrationally.
“Mind if I use some?” He asks slyly. His fingers peel the edge up. I lose it. I’m past warning.
I snatch the front of his jersey hauling him to me—nose to nose. Caught off guard, his face turns a ghostly white and he sputters.
“Bridges. Come on, we have a game to win. We don’t need you benched.” Ronan says calmly, hand on the front of my jersey. He gives a push, not hard enough to move me.
I snatch the tape out of TJs hand and shove him away. Turning my back to him, showing him he’s not a threat in my mind, I carefully placed the tape back in its place in my locker. Right next to Matty’s drawing of us playing hockey together.
Coach Randall comes in, eyes lingering in my direction for a beat, before giving us his quick speech and getting everyone riled up for the final period.
