Page 82 of Pucking Revenge

Me: True. Good Point. Okay. Well, get some rest. I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow.

THE HOCKEY REPORT

“Good Morning, Boston. I’m Colton, and this is my co-host, Eliza, and we’re here to bring you the Hockey Report.”

“Sorry, Colton. I don’t have it in me. I’m depressed after last night’s game. The team on the ice last night was not the team I’ve been watching for the last six weeks.”

“It was brutal. Brooks Langfield practically stepped out of the crease and pointed toward the net, inviting the puck in.”

“And New York is looking better and better as the season goes on. We’ll have to see how they do against our boys this week. Chicago skated circles around the Bolts’ defense, and their record is nowhere near as good,” Eliza whines.

“New York is definitely a team to watch.”

THIRTY

SARA

“That was a tough one.” Lennox leads me through the tunnel in New York where the fans dressed in blue exit in a somber horde. New York beat us four-one. The entire team, including Brooks, played terribly.

He’s played like shit for the last two games, and other than the moments after games when I’m herding him and the team in for questions with reporters, he’s barely spoken to me. Even in those moments, he avoids eye contact, and he doesn’t dare touch me.

On the plane, he sat with Tyler and Aiden like he used to without a word to me. All I got was a slight nod before he was settling in and losing himself in conversation. When we landed in New York, he suddenly had plans with his goalie coach. It felt an awful lot like he was avoiding me.

I’m losing my goddamn mind.

“You sticking around?” I ask her outside the locker room.

Lennox shakes her head. “Nah, I’m going to head back to my apartment. You coming to my place or you headed back to Boston?”

Despite Brooks’s attitude, I’ve made the best of the time I’ve had with my bestie. But the team is headed back to Boston tonight, while she’ll be staying in New York.

She says it’s time to start her job hunt. All week I’ve tried to convince her that this would be the perfect opportunity for her to move back to Boston. If Aiden wasn’t in the picture, I think I may have been successful, but since that moment he slammed into the glass at the sight of her, she’s been spooked. She’s hidden it well, but I can see the underlying disquiet that’s plaguing her. Clearing the air might help, but they’ve yet to talk. I’m not sure if that’s because of her or him, and I’m not pushing. I’m dealing with enough relationship drama myself.

“I really need to talk to Brooks.”

Lennox eyes me. “Yeah, if not for your sake, then you need to do it for the Bolts. The guy is falling apart on the ice.”

I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes. “That has nothing to do with me.”

At least I hope not, but with every passing day, I’m a little more concerned that it does. Is Brooks staying away from me because I’m bad luck? He’s a stickler for rituals and shit like that, sure, but if he’s pushing me away because of a goddamn superstition, then I’m really going to punch him in the face.

Either way, if I head back with the team tonight, I can visit with Josie tomorrow. Time with her is guaranteed to brighten the shadows that have enshrouded me this week, and I know she looks forward to it too.

“Don’t be a stranger,” I beg her, pulling her in close.

Once we part, I head to the pressroom. New York is dealing with the media first, so I lean against the door and watch each of them give their wrap-up.

“Vin, you’ve never scored more than one goal on Brooks Langfield. Tonight you scored three. What happened?”

When Vin gives the reporters a cocky smile, the anger that rushes through me is enough to make the edges of my vision go red. I have to turn around and walk out so I don’t launch myself across the room and beat him up myself.

I could tell them what happened. The team was a mess. Brooks’s head wasn’t in it. He was just a second too slow, and with the speed at which the puck travels on the slick ice, a second is practically a lifetime.

As I’m leaving the room, my focus snags on a familiar face in the back corner. Jill. Why the hell is she here?

She wasn’t in the WAG box tonight, and the woman never comes to home games, let alone away games. But here she is. She’s beaming in a black dress and black thigh-high boots with a red scarf around her neck.

Is she wearing New York colors?

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