Chapter Seven
WADE
The minute I saw Ethan go right, I should have known he was pulling a deke. Instead, I went down to block, and he shot the puck into the top shelf.
He goes down on one knee, pumping his fist.
I groan at his exaggerated celly. “You got lucky, D-man.”
But I know it’s more than that—I’m distracted.
Ethan spins around and bows. “Aaaaandyou’re welcome.”
With a grunt, I pull off my catcher, shove my helmet up, then grab my water bottle from the back of the net. Bree’s first day has barely started, and I’m already feeling the tug on my attention. If she hadn’t appeared off in Rebecca’s office, I’d probably be fine. But something shifted…changed in her, and I can’t figure it out. It’s not like she’s never looked at me before, but this time, her expression seemed different as if she were seeing me for the first time.
Maybe I’m reading too much into things, but it’s like I’m on full alert, analyzing her every move. At this rate, I’ll either go into mental overload or, worse, shut down. And that definitely won’t help my career or advance us to the playoffs.
Luke skates over and comes to a stop at the crease. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. His raised brow questions me louder than any words he might speak.
Still, I play dumb. “What? He got a lucky shot.”
His jaw ticks. “If you say so.”
I curse under my breath as he skates off, then tug my helmet off as I lay my stick across the top of the net. Next, I grab my water bottle and spray a stream into my mouth, which I swish and spit out. The second squirt I swallow, then douse my face and head—all the usual.
After I slick back my hair, I shove my helmet on, then my glove. I grasp my stick, give each side of the pipes a tap before smacking the center with the flat side. A deep breath, and then I spin around and move into position.
Normally, I save this for my pregame routine, but I need a reset. I focus everything I’ve got on the puck and block every shot for the rest of the drill.
Until Payton takes his turn. Pay is one of the fastest forwards I’ve ever seen, and he knows how to use his speed to advantage. Doesn’t hurt that he’s always changing up his moves, too—part of what keeps our team ranking in the top ten so far. We’re seriously lucky to have a sniper like him.
He gets into position, then flies down the ice before I even have a chance to think about what he might do. But that’s the reality during every game, and I welcome the challenge.
A rookie tries to steal the puck, but to no avail. He’ll learn a vital lesson on this one as Payton gives the biscuit a gentle tap, sliding it between the kid’s skates before charging at me like an angry bull barreling toward its perceived threat.
I drop into a butterfly, ready to block to my left, but he goes around the net, trying to pull a classic Gretzky move. When I realize what he’s doing, I launch to the other side, glove in the air and right leg extended.
The puck bounces off my pad, but as my skate hits the pipe, I feel a pop in my groin area.
“Killer shot, Maxwell!” Mathéo pats him on the back.
Payton slips his helmet off. “Cheers, Barbie-man. Even better if I’d made it into the net.”
I shift to my side, careful to stay prone on the ice a little longer, hoping the burn in my inner thigh backs off.
Luke’s head fills my view. “You okay, Cowboy?”
“I’m good, Cap. Just give me a sec.” I don’t meet his probing stare because I know the minute I do, he’ll figure out something’s up. That’s part of what makes Jameson such a great captain—he’s always watching, checking on his team to make sure we’re not hiding anything.
If I’m smart, I won’t try to hide this. But we have a game tomorrow against our rival, and I really want to be there for the fellas, especially for Maxwell. But playing through a pull could lead to a tear.
As I roll onto my back, Luke calls Coach over.
Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by a bunch of studious heads. Coach Markelson hovers above me to my left. Next to him stand Luke, then Ethan, Elias, Payton, and Mathéo, surrounding me in that order.
Coach points to Luke and Ethan. “Jameson, McKennen, get him up and help him back to the locker room.
I push my helmet off. “I’m fine, Coach. Just need a minute.”
