Chapter 9—Wolfe
The cold from the hundredsof feet of ice curled up and veiled Wolfe in its frigid comfort.Holding his stick loosely in his hands covered by his thick hockey gloves, Wolfe powered his way around the rink the Colorado Crush called home.He gained speed with each intense glide of his skates.
He joined Matt and Dante for another of their many summer workouts held in recent months.All three were warming up as they awaited their goalie, Anton, to emerge from the tunnel so they could work through some shooting drills.
The diva was always late.
Fucking goalies.
Wolfe grabbed a puck with the blade of his stick as he sailed by the resting disc awaiting him at the blueline.He began to move the frozen puck back and forth from the front to the back of the stick’s blade while continuing his swift laps around the rink.Never looking down, Wolfe let his speed and muscle memory of the action he’d done thousands of times during his life fuel him.After two full laps, he leaned his weight against the stick and his front leg to fire a laser of a shot to the upper corner of the empty net.
“Light the lamp, Wolfe,” team captain Dante yelled, then cupped his hand over his mouth to imitate the roar of a crowd.
“Lookin’ good, Wolfe-y,” Matt, the rookie sensation shouted and skated to a halt next to him, an icy spray scattering in his wake.
Wolfe remained extraordinarily pissed at himself and the mess he made with Aspen during what should have been an enjoyable evening.Instead it went to hell because he couldn’t seem to compartmentalize his sister’s death and yet another shitty conversation with his dad.
It served him right to think that he could find any semblance of happiness, let alone peace, especially on the anniversary of the death of his baby sister.
What in the hell was he thinking?
“First, don’t ever call me Wolfe-y again,” Wolfe gripped his stick so hard he thought it might shatter into a million shards of carbon fiber.“Second, quit flapping your gums and get to work.”
To accentuate his point, Wolfe lifted a puck with his stick and wristed it against the kid’s track pants covering his shins with a little more force than necessary.
“Ow!”the rookie complained.“Seriously, Wolfe, you’re crankier than normal today.Are you hangry?Do you need a Snickers?”
Wolfe narrowed his eyes before speaking.“Rook, don’t begin to think for a second that we’re friends because we workout just about every single day.In fact, it’s all I can do to not jam you into the boards to wipe that smug look off your pretty-boy face right now.”
Although Wolfe wouldn’t admit it aloud, based on the threat he just issued, the kid was blooming quickly into a leadership role with the team that matched his remarkable hockey talent.Wolfe found it difficult to believe how effortlessly Matt shifted into those roles after being called up to the club during a short stint with the Crush near the end of the team’s playoff run.
“It’s okay, Wolfe,” Matt began gently, as if he was approaching a stray dog.“I heard that your dinner with Aspen didn’t go well.”
“What dinner?”Dante asked as he glided to a stop next to them.“You went to dinner with Mia’s boss?”
Wolfe ignored the captain and the confusion in his dark brown eyes that were currently full of questions.“How’d you know I went to dinner with the boss baker, kid?Where’d you hear that?Were you hanging out at the bakery for some reason?”
