Page 30 of Rinkmates

Liora’s eyes narrow to slits. “No. Sex.”

Oh, she’s firm. “Okay, okay.”

“Can wepleasewrap this up?” Ethan sighs, raking a hand through his hair.

“I think it’s getting interesting,” Nina jokes, watching Liora and me closely.

“We have to talk about what happens if we mess with the rules,” Liora says.

“Isn’t it stated in the contract that if one party messes it up, the charade is over?” I say.

Liora nods.

“Okay.” I point at Nina. “Please add that if that happens, I want to make sure she has a place to stay until her show finishes.”

“Oh yeah,” Nina says and starts typing away on her laptop.

“No, that is not necessary—”

“It is.” I don’t want her having to go back to that tiny apartment, or landing somewhere worse.

“Is it over now?” Ethan says.

“Thank you.” Liora’s cheeks all heated again. “And yeah, I think I got it all covered now. Let’s sign so he can feed his cats,” Liora says, earning a giggle from Nina.

Nina prints out the revised contracts and hands one to Liora and one to me, along with pens. I sign mine quickly, but Liorareads through hers again, making Ethan groan about having the worst job in the world.

Nine

RILEY

The air smells like a mix of jet fuel and that sweet Southern breeze as we fires up at Raleigh-Durham International Airport. I slump into my seat, totally beat from the two-hour flight from JFK and that fucking game we lost. I still had to sit on the bench, and we all know this one’s on me. Coach didn’t speak a word to me. His name might be Mercer, but he knows no mercy.

I knew he was counting on me to step up and really change my ways this time. But it was hard, knowing that my team needed me but also knowing that my reckless behavior could cost us everything. I need to prove myself, to make a difference in the game. That’s why I agreed to start early with therapy. I have to get my shit together. I have weekly phone calls scheduled with my therapist and in-person meetings whenever I’m at home.

My eyes are heavy with exhaustion as I glance sideways at Max, our regular bus driver, who seems like he was born behind the wheel. Seriously, I don’t think there’s anything else in his life than our team. He’s always there, ready to drive us wherever we need to be. He sports a round beer belly, has the kindest smilethere is, and glasses the size of small tires. Patient as ever, he waits until all of our gear is stuffed into the bus and each player takes their seat.

Even though it’s a routine we all know well, like the crisscrossing streets we roll through in every city, midseason is the hardest, and everyone who argues differently doesn’t know shit. Being in the NHL means back-to-back games with very little time in between. We played against the Buffalo Bears at 7 p.m., and shortly after, Max and our staff picked us up and we flew to North Carolina.

Since I turn into a robot that only focuses on winning on game day, I didn’t have a lot of time to mull over Liora being back at my apartment all by herself. But now, as I sink into my seat and shut my eyes, she’s all I can think about. I still can’t believe I agreed to this. There’s agirlliving in my apartment. A fucking beautiful one.

I can’t help but wonder what she’s been doing for the past few days. We swapped phone numbers and I saved her as Bladezilla after she saved me as Puckster.

I hope she got along with the smart home features.

But she would have texted if anything—

“Man, I’m beat,” Jayce mutters, dropping into the seat beside me.

“Tell me about it, I feel old these days,” I reply with a tired grin.

Jayce looks as rough as I feel, his wild maroon curls poking out from under his headband, dark circles under his usually bright blue eyes. We’re boosting hard through the play-off push, trying to secure our spot. I touch his shoulder, giving him some support. At least we’re not alone in this insanity. My team is my family.

And I know why the bus is full of groaning guys right now. Across such a long season, our lives inevitably meet unexpected disruptions.

There are aching muscles, swelling bruises, engine malfunctions, blown tires, stiff mattresses—those are the routine challenges. NBA teams may average more back-to-backs, and MLB teams play a dense schedule, but hockey’s physical demands, spanning a vast geographic range and contending with factors like border crossings and weather delays, make NHL back-to-backs arguably the most challenging in professional sports. But let’s face it, most people don’t see this side of hockey—and maybe that’s what makes it so exciting.

“Ri, man,” I hear our youngest rookie, Shane Martinez, who we call Shiny, pipe up from the seat across the aisle.

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