Page 25 of Tempest

“I know. I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair. “Upsetting you wasn’t the plan. I just want to be in your world, Ode. However you’ll let me. I’m fighting for it. This time, I’m fighting for it.”

8

Gavin

“Fuck, Wylder. Take it easy on me, I’m old.”

“You’re ancient, but we both know you can take it,” Cillian says, shoving me once more before skating away.

Tomorrow night is the home opening game of my last season, making today, officially, my final offseason practice. Technically, skate is over, but some of us stayed on the ice for a friendly scrimmage. Coach watches with an eagle eye from the other side of the boards, ensuring we don’t get too carried away. The last thing we need is an injury before the season even starts.

This isn’t how we usually blow off steam or jitters or excess energy, but our goalie, Blom, wanted more time on the ice today. Instead of handing him over to the trainers and coaches, we took it upon ourselves.

Things feel different this year, like we’ve found a new sense of solidarity in ourselves. Last season ended with some drama around our rookie’s sexuality. The team rallied around him and we’re better for it. We’re a cohesive unit now, an actual team rather than a bunch of bucket heads who just happen to wear the same logo.

I steal the puck from Lehtinen and quickly glide down the ice, taking a shot on Blom. He blocks it and laughs like the maniac he is as I skate around the net. Goalies are weird as fuck, ours is no exception. But we all love the guy and he’d be the first to jump in and defend any of us. If all that padding didn’t get in the way, anyhow.

We get another ten minutes before Coach Cole calls it, telling us all to get the fuck off the ice and enjoy our last night. But not too much.

Every player has different rituals and superstitions. Some won’t have sex the day of a game, while others will. Some won’t have it the day before, either. I played with one guy who wouldn’t eat meat from season start to end. My quirks have never centered on sex or food. Though I do tap my stick twice on the ice every time I go into warmups. It’s dumb, but I’ve done it since peewee hockey, so I’m not going to stop now.

I do like having someone in the stands on opening night. Whether it be a home or an away game, it connects me, knowing there is someone there for me. Tori will be here tomorrow, just as she was last season. But I wish another dark-haired woman would be sitting with her.

I fucked that up last night. Odette’s cell phone had been sitting on the coffee table while we ate. While she didn’t notice the text that came through, I saw it when the preview flashed on her screen. That stuffy dude from her party said he was excited to see her Friday night.

Should I have paid that much attention to it? Nah. But it was right fucking there. And because of that, I snarked at her, and she went even further into offensive mode.

Odette fucks with my head, but no more than I fuck with it myself. After her party, I got the idea that the universe was giving me a second chance. I’d planned on last night to be light and casual, then I was going to ask her to come to my game on Friday.

Instead, I acted like a twat and upset her. She wouldn’t even exchange phone numbers with me. She’s so stubborn, and fuck if that doesn’t turn me upside down.

Last weekend, she was elegant and classy, taking care of her guests with a charming smile. Last night, she was more the Odette I remember, a little reserved, as if she couldn’t read the situation. I made her nervous and she lost the shell she wears for everyone else.

That means something. I know it does, she can’t deny it.

But I’m an idiot with no experience on how to charm any woman, let alone one like Odette Quinn. We aren’t shithead teenagers anymore.

“What’s up with you, Vaughn?” Fane asks.

“What do you mean?” I almost call him rookie, but he isn’t that. This is Zander’s second season and he more than proved himself worthy of the team last year. Kid has more guts than most and enough talent to back it up.

“You’ve looked like you need to take a shit all practice. You’re very scowly.”

“Scowly isn’t a word,” I say, laughing.

“Words weren’t words until someone invented them,” he says with a shrug. “I’m inventing this one, just for your face. What gives? Tori okay?”

“She’s great.” I sigh as I sit, unlacing my skates. “It’s me, I’m the problem.”

Blom starts singing from a few lockers over. Wylder throws a towel at him, trying to get him to shut up.

“What do you mean?” Zan takes the bench next to me, starting to strip out of his own gear.

“I don’t know how to date,” I finally admit to an uproar of laughter. “Fuck off, the lot of you. Especially you, Cillian, your history with women is downright abysmal.”

“That’s the fucking truth,” Coach says as he walks through. Cillian is married to our coach’s oldest daughter, but it was a rough history. Weirdly enough, Zander is in a relationship with his other daughter. I play with some brave-ass motherfuckers. Never in my life would I have dreamed of dating a coach’s kid. But Cole is one-of-a-kind, for sure.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cillian says. “I fixed it, though. Figured my shit out.”

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