Page 94 of Game On

And Dorian couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate each other.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“How are you feeling, Jamieson?”

Jamie finished taping his stick and stood to face Coach Shore. Around him, his teammates were gearing up for tonight’s game against Tucson, pulling on pads and uniforms and performing their pre-game rituals. “I’m good, Coach. Got my head on straight.”

Shore nodded and stepped closer. “You do seem more settled than when you arrived.”

“I’m in a better place than I was then.”

“I can see that. Playing against Henty isn’t going to be an issue tonight?”

“Hell no. I’ve got this, Coach.”

Shore regarded him critically, those dark eyes seeing too much. “You let me know if you don’t got it at any point. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Not that Jamie intended to let Henty get to him. Jamie wasn’t one of his players anymore, and they were no longer in-laws or pseudo-in-laws or whatever one called the family of the person they were dating. He wasn’t the beaten-down person he’d been when he’d first been traded. He’d grown, both as a player and as a person, and that was thanks to both Dorian and the acceptance of his new teammates.

Speaking of Dorian, his phone chimed with a text from him.

Dorian

Kick his ass.

Oh, Jamie planned to.

A second text came in, this one from Gio, who was watching the game with Dorian from one of the box suites owned by Skills Coach Stanton’s husband.

Gio

Tell Henty I told him to go fuck himself.

Truthfully, Jamie didn’t plan on spending enough time in Henty’s orbit to mutter more than three words at once, but he replied with a thumbs-up anyway.

A month ago, he would’ve been anxious going up against his former team captain.

Now?

All he felt was determination and a bone-deep desire to win.

Not even against Tucson. He didn’t care about them. He just wanted to beat Henty.

On his right, Brawsiski held out a gloved fist. “Ready for this?”

“Bring it the fuck on.”

It was clear from the pre-game warm-up that John Henty had an axe to grind and a chip on his shoulder. He’d gone from being the team captain to the new guy on the team, so in a way, Jamie understood.

But if Coach Shore had been right when he’d said that someone higher up than Jamie’s old coach had pegged Henty as the problem and done something about it, then Henty had no one but himself to blame.

Henty was obviously still finding his footing with Tucson. He missed passes he never would’ve missed with the Cobras, whiffed the puck, earned himself a penalty for high-sticking, and botched a play.

And that was all within the first period.

Honestly, Jamie felt a little sorry for the guy.

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