“Something up?”I glance at him, and he elaborates, “You look frustrated or annoyed or something.Is it because we talked about Lola on the bus?And Landon knows?I didn’t tell him.He must’ve figured it out on his own.He’s brighter than he looks.”
I smile.“Nah.I don’t care about that.I’m glad he’s cool about it.”
“Yeah, Lola made it clear from a very young age, we don’t get to treat her like she’s a pet or livestock we have ownership over.”He rolls his eyes.“She started calling herself a feminist at like six.I remember I had no idea what it was or how to say it properly.I used to call her a fermentist.”
I laugh, genuinely, and it feels good.He smiles, happy he’s succeeding in shifting the scowl off my face.“Which is why I didn’t object when she started dating that ass Cordon.I played junior hockey with him, and I knew he wasn’t a good guy.I mean, I didn’t think he would hurt her or anything, then I would have definitely intervened, but even in the locker room, he used to say shit that was… I don’t know, passive-aggressive.And he was the king of backhanded compliments and doing and saying shit that fucked with your head.I always worried he was like that with Lo, but if I even mentioned him, I was meddling.She likes being independent.”
I nod.I didn’t ask for this word vomit, but I’m happy for it.It makes me feel like I’m getting to know her better.“He was over by where she’s sitting.When we all got off the ice, Cordon skated over there.I don’t know if he was trying to talk to her, but it seemed that way.”
Callan’s eyebrows fly up, and he stands and reaches for his helmet.“He better not be bothering her.She’s had enough with invasive assholes this year.Like that Pete guy.”
“Yeah.He was fucked.I still say he’s the one who vandalized the car.”
“I agree.”Callan shoves his helmet over his head, and his hair sticks out at weird angles under the edges.“But at least he’s disappeared.Hopefully forever.Ryan needs to do the same.Lola is great, but clearly she has bad taste in men… I mean, sometimes.No offense.I don’t mean you.”
He looks downright sheepish.I shoot him a smile that saysforget about itas the coach comes in to give us a pep talk before we hit the ice.Callan sits back down beside me.I’m not offended by his off-handed comment because he’s not wrong.I’m not a great choice for Lola.Luckily, she’s not picking me.Not for anything meaningful.And Callan’s right.If she were, it would be a bad choice.
Chapter22
Theo
Cordon is on the ice for the first face-off.Callan and I are on the bench.He’s a winger, and his center wins the puck and immediately passes it to Cordon.That leads to a flurry of activity in our zone, not at all what anyone on our team wants, less than a minute into the game.But Grady is a wall, and despite three shots on him in the first three minutes, nothing gets in.We definitely have zero momentum, though, and that’s never the way to start a game.
We end up with an icing call, which means we can’t change lines, and I’m itching to get out there.As soon as we win the face-off, Coach yells something that could be “go” or just a grunt of frustration, but it’s a cue nonetheless.Callan and I hop over the boards as the other D-men hop off the ice.Cordon isn’t on the ice, unfortunately, because man, do I want to check him into oblivion.I manage to harness that energy enough to make it useful and check a different player, all legal and clean, and get him to give up the puck, which Conner sweeps up and successfully makes his way down the ice.With a quick pass to Landon that the Thunder goalie wasn’t expecting, we draw first blood.When that lamp lights up, I roar like it’s the fucking playoffs and skate over and hug Landon and Conner.
“Wicked work on the boards, T.”Conner knocks his helmet into mine.
We stay on for the face-off, but the Thunder switch their lines, and that’s how I find myself on the ice with Cordon.When one of our forwards accidentally turns over the puck, and he ends up with it, I have every right to chase him down and rail him into the boards.It’s my job, after all.The boom his body makes as it hits the boards and glass rattles through me.I turn to skate away, but there’s a whistle on the play, an offside, so I slow and glide toward where the face-off will be.He skates up beside me.
“That wasn’t necessary, dude.”I look over at him.He’s got a passive, almost friendly expression.
“It’s hockey, which is a full-contact sport,dude.”I give him a half-shrug.
“It was a little too aggressive, dude.”
I stop in my spot for the face-off and level him with the cockiest smirk I own.“I can’t help it if karma uses me as its instrument.Dude.”
“What does that even mean?”he asks, his blue eyes swimming in confusion.
I don’t answer.The puck drops.Thunder gets possession, and as soon as it hits Cordon’s stick, I crush him again.We’re not near the boards, so he goes flying backward, right off his feet, and lands in a heap on the ice.I get the puck and skate away, passing it to Callan, who takes it farther up the ice much faster than I could.Kid is the fastest defenseman I’ve ever seen.He passes it off, and we head for the bench, our shift over, which is great because I am gassed.
The bench is in front of me, and the next thing I see is the ice coming up at me fast.I spin to land on my back.The wind gets knocked right out of me, and I’m face-up on the ice, my helmet bangs heavy against the hard surface, making my teeth rattle.I bounce up as fast as I can and find Cordon glaring at me.“Ry fuck off.”I hear Callan say as he glides to the bench, but not over it.
“You still doing some Zen Buddha shit, Richard?”He says my name the English way, like it’s a male first name and not the correct way, which, because it’s French, has a soft ch that sounds likesh.I get that a lot from American players and sportscasters, and normally I’m not bothered, but… it bothers me now.“Not fighting when it’s literally all you used to be good at.”
I skate right at him.“Don’t know about that.I looked pretty good stripping your sorry ass of the puck earlier.”He shoves me back, and I drop my stick and flick my hands so my gloves go flying.“As for fighting, for you I’ll make an exception.”
I grab the front of his jersey and clock him with a strong left.It knocks his helmet off.I hear a whistle somewhere and get bumped by Callan, who is now tussling with another Thunder player.Cordon swings and misses.“Why are you such a fucking prick, Richard?”
“Why did you go talk to her tonight, asshole?”I swing and miss.“She’s not yours anymore.”
He pulls back a little, but I keep a grip on his jersey, and then he swings.It glances off my chin.Not enough to do more than leave a weak bruise, I think.The force he puts into the swing has him tilting, and I use it to my advantage as I feel a linesman grab my shoulder to break it up and get Ryan fucking Cordon around the neck.We drop to the ice in a heap.
“What the fuck are you…” Ryan yells, then his voice drops.“Lola?Is thatyourbaby with… Lola?”
“What?No.That’s Landon’s baby,” I bark out.
“Up, boys.Now!”The linesman tugs on the back of my jersey, and I struggle to my feet.
