Page 60 of Wicked Serve

I wrap my arm around him. “Your assist!”

It’s rare that you come onto the ice for a fresh shift as a defenseman and find your partner passing you the puck in perfect position to get a shot off, but I turned UMass’s lapse in concentration into a point. We’re up 4-1 now, with only a few minutes to go in the last period.

A couple feet away, John stands with two of my former teammates, looking at our impromptu huddle. He nods at me before skating to the UMass bench. We spoke briefly before the game for the first time in weeks, and it was stilted, strange, even though we made dinner plans.

Something inside me pinches tightly, but only for a moment. It can’t banish the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I usually score a good number of goals each season, on the higher end for a defenseman, and not having one yet was bugging me. Cooper got one when we played Vermont last week, after all; I couldn’t let myself get too far off-pace.

Before the game resumes, I look behind the net. Just once. I’ve been avoiding it all night, for my sanity, but I’ve been aware of Isabelle all the same. She’s standing next to Penny, her body pressed against the glass like she wishes she could melt right through it. Her smile is so wide, it takes my breath away. It’s lucky I scored the goal this period instead of last, when our net was on the other end of the ice.

I wish more than anything that I could skate over, acknowledge her somehow, but I restrain myself. It’s not just a matter of Cooper not noticing. She’s with her parents and Sebastian, too.

Aaron’s able to block the last-ditch efforts by UMass to get another goal or two in before the buzzer, and I leave the ice sweaty and grinning. I spot John before he can head into the visiting locker room.

“Hey, man.” I give him a thump on the back. “Wanted to catch you before I went in.”

“Nikolai,” he says, taking a step back. “Good game.”

“Thanks. You too.”

He just gives me a tight smile.

“For dinner, I have this great burger place picked out. Their specialty is this bacon—”

“I actually think we’re heading back to campus,” he interrupts.

“Oh. Tonight, you mean?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

I blink, tapping my stick against the floor. “That’s... that’s fine. We can talk some other time.”

“Sure.” He claps me on the shoulder briefly before catching up with the rest of his team. Even though they lost, they look animated, chatting with each other—and not one of them gives me half a glance.

I tug off my helmet. Sweat drips from my temple down the side of my face. I shove my hair back, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. Where’s Isabelle? Even a glimpse of her before I head into the locker room would be enough to settle the discomfort.

I spot her purple sweater, her dark hair threaded with matching ribbon. Her laughter is a beacon, rising above the other noise in the tunnel. She spots me, quirking her lips in a tiny smile. I hope like hell that she won her match earlier.

As I watch, Cooper and Penny join her and the rest of the family. Sebastian says something to Cooper, who gives him a playful shove. All of them laugh. It must be nice to have family at your games. Mom’s a nonstarter, and Cricket’s usually too busy to make the trip. I can’t imagine Grandfather setting foot in this building, let alone watching an entire hockey game.

As if sensing my lingering gaze, Cooper gestures to me. “Hey, Nik. Come meet my parents.”

I settle into my chair, resisting the urge to put my arm around the back of Isabelle’s. Her mother invited me to dinner with the family as soon as she heard my plans with my old teammates fell through. I should have made up an excuse not to come, but I have the sense that it’s hard to say no to Sandra Callahan when she’s made a decision.

Reminds me of Isabelle. Her fingers brush mine underneath the table for the briefest moment before retreating.

I suppress a shiver. I shouldn’t have sat next to her, either, but Penny is busy hanging over Cooper, and Sebastian’s girlfriend met us at the restaurant, so I had limited options. And besides, I’m happy to be celebrating with her; she won her match earlier while playing setter. It took all of my self-control not to embrace her the moment she shared the news with Cooper.

I absolutely shouldn’t trace the seam of her jeans underneath the table. In fact, I should scoot my chair further away.

Richard Callahan looks up from the wine list, his gaze lingering on me. If I wasn’t sure before where Isabelle got her eyes from, now there’s no doubt. “That was an excellent goal.”

“A little late, but appreciated anyway,” Cooper says, smirking at me from across the table.

I snort at Cooper. “Thank you, sir.”

“It must have been strange, playing your old team,” Penny says.

The sting of John’s rejection hasn’t gone away, but at the same time, things feel easy with my current team. Since the team formal, I’ve been more relaxed. The locker room celebration, the silly Turkey trophy, the joint interview Cooper and I gave since the game was televised—none of it was a hardship. I didn’t wish I was boarding the bus back to Massachusetts.

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