I tap on the screen, following the prompts to place my drink order as a heavy sigh escapes me. Instead of being adventurous and trying something new, I get the same thing I always do.
I’m not feeling like Candy Stone—not today.
CHAPTER TWO
MATTEO
“The first time I saw her, the world around me went quiet. I didn’t recognize her at first, although my soul knew. It knew she was the one it had been looking for.” - Julian Hart, Painted Inferno
“Matty, throw me that roll of tape.”
I tug once more on my laces, loosening them before grabbing the roll of white tape to my left and tossing it around Cam Shaw and over to Theo. I’ve known Theodore Simmons most of my life. Our families have always been close since our dads played for the Aston Archers together.
He’s one of the younger kids on the team, but I promised his dad and mine that I’d take him under my wing when he came into the league at nineteen.
“Boys, we need to get our shit together.”
The voice of our captain, Warren Cross, echoes through the locker room as he drops down onto the bench. He tosses his helmet onto the floor in anger, his damp hair shifting as he shakes his head.
He’s not wrong. The first half of the season wasn’t bad, but it’s like after the beginning of January, we’ve been on a downhillslope. We’ve been on a losing streak for three weeks, which is borderline embarrassing.
Practice this morning was absolutely grueling with no pucks and just skating. A few of the guys were running for the nearest trashcan after we got off the ice.
“We need to figure out what the problem is and fix it.”
Something has been off and the synergy just isn’t there. Whatever we had going at the beginning of the season vanished. Now, we’re drifting lower in the standings with every game. We had a shot at play-offs and if we don’t turn things around, there’s a chance we might not even be in the race for a wildcard spot.
Dropping my gaze to the floor to avoid Cross’s gaze as he looks around the locker room, I slide my feet from my skates and wipe the blades down with a towel. I know I’m partially to blame for the downfall of the Hillford Ice Hawks.
Since the new year, I haven’t scored a single fucking goal.
And as a power forward, that’s completely unacceptable.
“I mean, it could be a multitude of things,” Theo offers. I look at him and he shrugs his shoulders as he continues to wrap the tape around his stick’s blade.
Cross clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I don’t know. No one’s been injured for long enough to make a real difference. We’re not scoring goals like we should be. If we can’t produce, what the fuck are we doing here?”
Guilt immediately strikes my chest and I feel his eyes on me. I’m bent forward again, pulling the clear tape from my socks. I’m not the only one who hasn’t been putting up points, but as someone who averages one point per game, I know I’m one of the main culprits.
“Who’s been changing shit up?” Shaw chimes in as he rises to his feet. My eyebrows tug together and Theo mumbles something to himself. “Should we all shave our heads or some shit?”
Theo huffs. “Here we go again.”
Hockey players are known for their superstitions and quirky habits. I toss the tape into the trash can and slip off my socks and then my shinguards. The smell of sweat, melted ice, and musk fills the room as everyone strips out of their gear. No one’s bothered by the scent. It comes with the territory.
“No, for real,” Shaw insists, his eyes trailing around the locker room, scanning each and every one of us with scrutiny. “Someone must have changed something up and whatever it is, it’s not working.”
Murmurs and mumbles break out throughout the room as the guys all start to disagree with him. Cross tilts his head to the side, his gaze locking with mine. The way he studies me is a tad unnerving, although it’s not unusual from him. He’s highly calculated, but quick to confront.
“Matty.”
I inhale deeply. “What?”
“You’re the only one who hasn’t said anything.”
I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve been doing anything different or out of the ordinary.”
“That’s not true,” Gray, our goalie, cuts in. I whip my head to the side, my eyes narrowing on him. “Your New Year's resolution, remember?”
