Page 52 of Protective Pucking Orc

I couldn’t see them from the ice, but I didn’t need to.

I knew exactly where in that building they sat—up and to my left, behind glass, rows back from where any stray puck or flying body could reach—and some new, orderly part of my mind kept a small portion of itself pinned to that location the entire game, the way a male keeps track of true north.

The Avengers were fast. Faster than our scouting reports suggested, their top line skating with the kind of chemistry that only comes from years together, and for the first five minutes of the first period they tested our zone hard, probing for weakness the way predators probe a herd.

They did not find one in me.

I planted myself in the crease Torrk’s back depended on and made myself into precisely what the Bramblewood sports desk had nicknamed me two seasons ago: the Wall.

Their first winger came in fast along the boards, thinking speed alone would get him past—I met him with my shoulder and he went down hard, and stayed down a beat longer than pride allowed before hauling himself up.

Second period, a scramble in front of the net—three bodies, a loose puck, Torrk half-blind behind the scrum—and I put myself between all of it and my goalie, took a stick to the ribs I’d feel tomorrow, and cleared the puck up the boards before anyone in white could touch it.

Bardon, from center ice, threw me a look that was as close to open approval as he allowed himself mid-game.

Midway through the second, Jord found a gap I’d opened and buried it top shelf, and the small traveling knot of Terrors fans behind our bench made more noise than a group that size should have been capable of.

I did not look up at the glass. I did not need to. I could feel it; the focused attention of my Mate, watching me do the one thing in this world I knew how to do without hesitation.

We won, three to one.

Kardok added the third in the final minutes, an insurance goal nobody needed but everybody wanted, and the locker room afterward was as loud and profane as it always was after a win over a team that outspent us by so much.

I showered fast, dressed faster, and didn’t fully exhale until I came around the corner of the corridor and saw her—Rosa rubbing her eyes sleepily in someone’s spare jersey, and Sofia on her feet, already moving toward me before I’d even cleared the doorway.

She reached for my hand at the same time I reached for hers, and we fit together like we were made for each other. I suppose we were.

The celebrations continued through the food, then we piled onto the bus once more. Denver was the only game where we could drive home after, and that was only a few times a year. I wasn’t the only one who was looking forward to my own bed, no matter how late we arrived.

And not only because Sofia was going to be in it.

Sofia

It was…incredible to feel a part of something bigger than myself.

I’d purchased a Teal Terrors hat—and I’d worn it today, although Lila had promised no one could see us up in the windowed box—but that had only been to fit in with the people of Bramblewood. Tonight, cheering for the team, even though they couldn’t hear, and jumping up and down in excitement with Lila and her father and Rosa each time we scored…?

It had felt like…like belonging.

Like home.

I was still smiling as I followed Dakvaar down the aisle of the bus. Rosa had fallen asleep on his shoulder, curled up there as if she was right where she belonged. The males of the team were yelling and high-fiving each other, reenacting various plays…but each one of them lowered their voice as soon as they saw sleeping Rosa, nodding respectfully to me as I passed.

They’d treated her like a mascot, and perhaps she’d brought them luck tonight.

Dakvaar led us to the very back of the bus, the largest seats. He slid in beside the window, arranging Rosa on his lap so her head was pillowed against his arm and her legs spread toward mine. I sank gratefully beside him, glad for his warmth and support, but also happy I had some space to stretch out my legs.

As the bus rumbled from the parking lot, Dakvaar asked in the darkness, “Did you have fun?”

“It was amazing.” I groped for his hand. “You were amazing.”

I could feel his pleasure at my praise, the way he hummed just slightly. “And I was right—the guys all loved having you with us.”

Ah.

They will love you, Sofia, because I do.

It had been running through my mind all day, a simple phrase I hadn’t been able to ignore, but kept prodding at carefully.