Page 110 of Wicked Serve

If I can manage to share Isabelle for even a second longer tonight, that is.

I all but collapse onto the bench when my latest shift finally ends, sucking wind and wincing; the extra twenty seconds felt like torture. I pull off my helmet and slick my hair back.

Something catches the corner of my eye. Not Isabelle. A man.

I nearly drop the helmet.

“Good effort, Kolya,” someone says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

I whirl around. “What?”

“I said good effort, Abney,” Coach Ryder says. He frowns. “You okay, son?”

I wet my lips, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. It couldn’t have been Dad. He still hasn’t told me when he’s coming to visit, and if I know anything about him, it’s that he can’t resist making everything about himself. He won’t slink in halfway through a game. He’ll charm his way into the locker room. He’ll force me into a big production, all in the name of fathers and sons.

Kolya. Jesus. I need to get my head on straight.

“I’m fine. That shift was just a little long.”

Ryder nods. “Drink some Gatorade.”

When I risk another look at the stands, I breathe a sigh of relief. Not Dad. Just a random guy with an angular face and intense eyes. I crumple the empty paper cup, my gaze finding Isabelle in the crowd once more. The squeeze of my lungs eases at the sight of her laughing with Victoria. I adjust the bracelet she gave me, making sure it’s safe underneath my glove.

Then I race onto the ice and do it all over again.

Chapter 52

Izzy

“To the game winner!” Mickey says, lifting his shot glass to Nikolai. “You’re next level, dude, seriously.”

“Yeah, you’re cold as ice,” Evan says. Half the guys groan, and the other half burst into laughter. “What?” he adds, spreading his arms. “We play ice hockey. It’s stupid, but it works.”

I snag a shot from the nearest tray, holding it up, too. Across the table, cluttered with empty glasses, Nik catches my eye and smiles. I make a silly face, and he replies by sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. I giggle.

He clears his throat as he stands, looking around at his teammates.

The guys are practically high on the victory, courtesy of a perfectly executed shootout goal by Nik. When regulation ended in a tie, they went to a blisteringly fast overtime period, but that didn’t force a goal. The shootout had me screaming, holding on to Penny’s arm so tightly she yelped. I wasn’t expecting Nik to come out for the game winning attempt, but he steamrolled the Lowell goaltender in the blink of an eye. I don’t know all the intricacies of hockey, but even I could tell that a shot like that was a thing of lethal beauty.

He’s so collected when he plays, his face can be blank, but after that goal, I caught the emotion in his expression. Elated, but a little sad, somehow. Maybe he didn’t think he was going to get the goal.

He played so fucking well tonight. He deserves these cheers.

He holds up his own shot glass, the bar lights throwing his scar into sharp relief. He had the bartender put a couple bottles of vodka on ice when we first walked in.

“Gentlemen—”

“Iceman,” Cooper says, snapping his fingers. “That should be your nickname.”

“Top Gun vibes all the way,” Evan says, nodding.

“Isn’t Iceman the antagonist?” Penny says. She’s halfway in Cooper’s lap, nursing a glass of wine.

“Not by the end. And definitely not in the new movie.” He squeezes her knee as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Although to be fair, when we watched it, we didn’t pay that much attention.”

“Iceman,” Mickey says contemplatively. “I like it.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Nik says.

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