Page 124 of 10 Things I Hate About Mistletoe

I should have offered to go with her.

Only would she have even said yes? The point of this impromptu trip was to talk to her parents. She probably didn’t want her anxious boyfriend tagging along.

“Anthony, look alive!” Pike’s loud order brought Anthony back to the present, where they stood on opposite sides of the makeshift center, waiting for Clark to release the puck into play. They were teams of five on five, although Declan had been a last-minute addition as goalie when Mr. Franklin had to bow out because his wife said he was quote, “out of his mind.” Declan had played in a junior hockey league growing up, so he wasn’t completely useless.

Anthony couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when they had two snowmobiles on the line. Losing them would cut them down financially and Anthony wanted to kick himself for leveraging them to begin with.

Waiting for the puck were Nick and Brodie, staring each other down mildly. Anthony had wanted to be the one at center ice, but Pike was afraid one word from Brodie and they’d never get the game started.

The minute the little black disk hit the ice, Nick’s and Brodie’s sticks were all over it, knocking it across the ice where Pike snatched it up, carrying it down the ice toward the other team’s goal, passing it back and forth between him and Paulie, their other teammate. Paulie lost his balance and pitched forward, leaving Pike alone. Anthony raced to help but Trip plowed into Pike from the side, knocking him off his feet and snatching the puck up, heading the opposite way. Nick caught him on the edge and checked him into the foam walls they’d set up around the perimeter of the outdoor rink, but Trip kept coming, winding back, and letting the puck fly into their goal past Declan’s glove.

One–zero.

“Shit,” Anthony said, collecting the puck and putting it back in the play. They were all out of shape and practice, whereas Brodie and his team had been playing in a rec league out of Boise for years. How had he forgotten that detail?

Anthony didn’t know why he suggested hockey as a winter game, except that it has been a popular request among the people of Mistletoe when he’d sent out the email survey for activities. Like the Romans who watched the gladiators fight to the death, the townspeople were bloodthirsty and enjoyed the violence of the game.

Nick had the puck in his control and was racing down the makeshift rink with Brodie hot on his heels. Nick wound up his stick and hit the puck at the goal. The shot went wide and bounced off the metal pole of the net. Brodie picked it up, taking it back down toward their goal. Pike chased after him with Anthony too far behind to do anything and could only watch helplessly as they scored another goal.

“Declan, you are a giant!” Pike hollered. “Do something!”

Declan flipped Pike the bird and Anthony took a deep breath. Pike was losing his mind thinking about those snowmobiles, same as Anthony, but they couldn’t start turning on their friends. It was his fault they were in this mess, not theirs.

“Declan, switch,” Anthony hollered, skating toward the goal. He smacked the bigger man on the shoulder. “Thanks for doing this.”

“You sure you want me out on the ice? If Pike mouths off again, I might trip him.”

“As long as you wait until the game is finished.” Anthony swallowed, hard. “We’ve got those two snowmobiles riding on this. We can’t afford to lose.”

“Shit, man,” Declan said.

“What do you say, fellas?” Brodie said, grinning behind his mask as he skated by the net. “Should we say first team to three and stop this torture?”

“Whatever, I can do this all day, son!” Pike said behind Brodie, huffing and puffing with exertion.

I can’t, Anthony thought.

“Anthony, look out.”

Anthony realized too late he’d been so in his head that he hadn’t seen Brodie racing straight for the goal. He braced for impact as Brodie launched him off his feet and onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. Brodie hovered over him and asked, “Are you okay, man?”

Anthony nodded, dazed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he wheezed.

To Anthony’s surprise, Brodie held out a hand to him. Anthony took it and Brodie helped him to his feet. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No worries.” Brodie took a step as if he was going to skate away but stalled. “Look, I know I haven’t exactly been your biggest fan and vice versa lately. I don’t even really know how it started, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either. I just didn’t like the way you talked about my girlfriend, even before she was my girlfriend. The way you discuss women in general, man.”

Brodie shook his head. “You mean that thing with me and Trip in the locker room?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“You never just talk shit with your boys and don’t mean it?” Brodie asked.

“You seemed to mean it when you told Delilah to her face you were just trying to fuck her because of her size.”