The word lands wrong. Not because it’s funny. Because it isn’t.
A rookie defenseman laughs in response. “Better toe the line, Rourke, or you’ll get grounded!”
I know they’re just chirping.I know.But I had to listen to this kind of shit all the time when it was just me and Mom, and goddamn it, can’t they leave me alone? I want to play hockey without getting too stuck in my own head.
Instead of relaxing as practice goes on, though, I get antsier. My focus drifts up to where Remy sits, time and time again.
Every time I look up, she’s still there. Not staring, not obviously watching me, but I feel it anyway. Like a weight I can’t quite shake.
“Getting sloppy, Rourke!” Coach Metcalfe bellows.
There it is. The moment everyone’s been waiting for.
I grit my teeth. “Sorry, Coach!”
“Don’t be sorry. Be attentive.” Coach’s eyes follow me through my drills.
Goddamn it, IlikeCoach. He’s a good guy. Tough, sure, but he’s not an asshole. The way he’s watching me, though, like he’s waiting for me to screw up…
He reminds me of my dad, and it makes me want to peel my skin right off my bones. Like he’s waiting for me to let him down so he can prove something. I don’t even know what anymore. That I’m not as in control as I think I am. That I never was.
I push myself harder, trying to distract myself. I love hockey. It’s good to be back. I’m definitely thinking about hockey and not about Coach.
Or Remy. Nope, haven’t thought about her once.
If I say it enough times, maybe it’ll be true.
I glance up toward the stands. Why does she have to be here? I wish she’d leave me alone for the day. I’ve done everything she’s asked of me. The guys were just giving me shit with the whole babysitter thing, but still… it feels like I’m being handled. Like I’m a bomb that everybody expects to go off at any moment.
“Look alive, Rourke!” Lenyx calls out as he passes me. “One week off the ice, and it’s like you forgot how to move!”
He’s too busy chirping at me to watch where he’s going, so he doesn’t see the rookie d-man headed toward him. I see it coming a split second too late. Bodies moving in the wrong direction, timing off enough to turn routine into a problem. The rookie slams into him at full speed. The impact catapults Lenyx into the crease.
“What the fuck was that?” I’m moving before the words even finish leaving my mouth. The rookie tries to turn away, catches an edge, and goes down hard on his ass. I stop over him while the rest of the team rushes toward Lenyx. “You outta your fuckin’ mind?”
It comes out sharper than I meant it to. Louder. Full Southie accent. Closer to a snap than a question.
The d-man tries to stand up, but his skates shoot out from under him, sending him back to the ice. His face is pale, and he won’t meet my eyes. I glance over my shoulder to check on Lenyx. I know he can take a hit, but this is practice, not a real game, and if he gets injured because of some rookie’s stupid stunt, there will be hell to pay.
Lenyx is on his feet, though he seems a little shaky. Violet, our physio and resident head trauma specialist, is already at his side, examining him while Knight and Viktor support each of his arms. I expect Coach Metcalfe to be at his side.
Instead, Coach glares at me. “Get the hell over here, Rourke!” he bellows.
“Me?” Why me? I had nothing to do with Lenyx’s crash, unless Coach considers me somehow to blame for his distraction by, I don’t know,existing.Maybe he didn’t see what happened.
Then the d-man tries to stand again, and I suddenly realize why he’s freaking out so much. He’s scared.
Not of the hit. Not of the fall.
Ofme.
I skate back from him, putting a little distance between us. “I didn’t touch you.” I didn’t even threaten to.
But he was upright until I approached him. He fell because he was trying to get away from me, in case I came after him with my fists.
Fuck.Fuck.I would never.
At least, I don’t think I would.
