Page 69 of Trust Me

“I don’t take orders from a has-been, but it is time for the game to start.” He smirks to himself and skates to his bench.

Elio glares at him the entire time while talking under his breath to me. “You okay?”

“I’m great. Seriously, don’t worry about it,” I reassure him.

Elio doesn’t say anything. He simply nods as the national anthem comes on. We all stand, and once it ends, we relax into our seats as the teams return to their benches.

Minutes later, they’re skating to their positions on their side of the ice, gearing up for what is going to be an intense game.

And it is. It’s currently the second period, and no one has scored yet. There’s been a few close calls, but both goalies are playing their asses off tonight, blocking everything. The players are skating their hardest, and there have been more than a couple dirty hits, some of which have gone unnoticed by the refs.

That is until none other than Jacobson gets a breakaway. He’s soaring down the ice, impossibly fast, and he slapshots it into the top right corner of the net. Our goalkeeper’s glove barely misses it.

The siren goes off, eliciting a mix of boos and cheers from the crowd.

Jacobson skates toward me, shouting once he’s close enough, “Looks like I’m scoring tonight. Hopefully, more than pucks.”

Ew.

“Maybe hockey isn’t for me.” Camille mock gags, making me laugh.

I roll my eyes as Jacobson skates away and look at our bench. Elio glares at him once again, his jaw working back and forth. He walks down the bench line, leaning over to whisper in the ear of one of the biggest defensemen on the team.

I don’t think anything of it, turning my attention back to the game.

The guys line up for the puck drop, and Isaiah gets it, passing it to another player on our team. I’m watching with rapt attention as they try to set up a play, when Jacobson tries to steal the puck from Isaiah, slashing him intentionally.

The refs must miss it somehow, because there’s no fucking whistle. Our biggest defenseman, Grant, skates over impeccably fast and twists his shoulder right into Jacobson, smashing him into the boards. The crowd goes silent at the hit. It’s the worst one we’ve seen all night.

The refs blow their whistle now, calling a penalty on Grant, and the crowd boos. The hit looked clean to me, but I also don’t know a whole lot about hockey.

“That looked painful.” Camille grimaces as Jacobson is helped up, then he skates off by himself to sit on the bench.

My brain turns things over in my head, and I quickly look over at Elio, who’s wearing a shit-eating grin as he watches the scene unfold. He did this. That must’ve been what he whispered to Grant.

While I want to swoon over the protectiveness of it, I also want to yell at him. He can’t tell his players to pull that kind of stunt for me. It’s not cool, and I won’t stand by it.

RLU scores twice in the third period, with Jacobson on the bench for the rest of the game. The crowd is electric, losing their minds about the win over our rival school. Camille jumps up and cheers along with them, and I join her, but it’s half-hearted, because I’m a bit pissed at my boyfriend.

The team starts to celebrate their win, jumping on one another on the ice, and my father and Elio exit the bench to shake hands with the other team’s coaches.

Camille and I begin to exit our row, following the crowd, when I feel his eyes on me. I give him a small smile and a wave, to which he nods. He knows I’m going home with Camille, but he wanted me to make sure I’d say bye when we left.

Due to the thousands of people around, most important of all, my father, a wave is the best he can get. It might be all he gets for a while after what he did tonight.

I’ve been home for an hour and decided to film some content as I wait for Elio to get back from the game.

I’m currently making a dish my halmeoni and I made when I was a kid, Hotteok, a pancake-like dessert, with a maple cinnamon crumble on the inside. It’s easy to make and delicious.

I know I’ll have to make more for Chuseok, which is our family’s Thanksgiving, but I want some now as I crave the connection I feel to my grandma when I make it.

Peace washes over me as I mix the ingredients, then grab the dough into my hands, making it into the size I want. Once it’s perfect, I sprinkle the maple, cinnamon sugar topping on it, and then I fold the dough and close it as I drop it onto the pan.

The sizzle buzzes in my ear, a sound that brings me back to my childhood, the days spent in the kitchen with my halmeoni. She didn’t speak English, allowing me to only converse with her in Korean. We spent so many days laughing and talking in the kitchen, our special little moments. Tears roll down my cheeks at the memories because I miss her so fucking much, it hurts. She was my soul twin, our personalities one and the same.

I wipe them away as I flip the Hotteok over, satisfied with the slight browning. A few minutes later, they’re complete. I take a couple of videos and photos of the finished product, and then I dig in.

A moan escapes me as I bite into it, the maple goodness coating my tongue.

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