Page 125 of The Hat Trick

“That’s one way to put it.” I curl my legs up closer to my body.

“You love them.”

I groan, hiding my face. I hardly admit that fact to myself, but my best friend knows me better than anyone and she’s seen me through love and heartbreak before. Though, this time is different. I may have loved Jay and I may have been heartbroken when he cheated on me and we broke up, but even that didn’t feel anything like this.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she reassures. “I don’t think you necessarily made a mistake. You told them you needed time, but do you think you’ve had enough time?”

I sigh. “Maybe. But that’s assuming they even would want me back.”

She just laughs. “Oh they do. Trust me.”

The game starts again, and Matt is noticeably absent. The announcers say they haven’t gotten word if he will return. The puck drops, and the first period ends without any more incidents.

When they come back from intermission the announcers say Matt won’t be returning this game, and I can’t help the twinge of disappointment at the fact that I’m not going to get to see him again during this game.

Both teams seem to have come back with a vengeance after the intermission and clearly that fight didn’t get all the aggression out from the players. Hits are still being made too hard, and sometime toward the end of the period suddenly Vince is hit in the face, and it’s not called.

I jump up from my seat, screaming at the TV about the lack of a call, suddenly the whistles blow, and Vince is being taken from the bench to the penalty box where they call unsportsmanlike conduct.

“What the actual fuck?” I scream.

“Wasn’t he the one that got hit?” Audrey asks with just as much anger as me.

“Yeah, look at him.” I reference the blood pouring from his face as he sits in the penalty box, fuming and still screaming at the refs.

The TV cuts to a replay of the hit and this time follows him to the bench while he’s obviously screaming at someone. He slams his stick so hard against the glass several times it breaks all while he’s clearly cursing at either the refs or the player that hit him.

“That’s fucking bullshit, those assholes should’ve gotten the penalty for that, not him!” I can’t hold back my anger. “These refs fucking suck.”

I’m fuming as the other team gets a power play, which luckily, they don’t get a goal.

“You know, this might not be the best time to say this because that was bullshit, but it was pretty hot,” Audrey chuckles.

I actually smile. “Yeah it was.”

Vince is usually so levelheaded and he’s told me before he doesn’t tend to start fights on the ice, but I know he can be aggressive when he wants to be. Obviously, I’ve seen it more than once. Usually when we are naked with our bodies tangled. My cheeks heat at the memory of him like that. Of all of them.

I let out a sigh of defeat. I think I have had enough time. I just have to hope that it’s not too late.

44

It’s safe to say after that game where McQuaid was ejected, and Dumont got an unsportsmanlike conduct, that Coach was not happy with any of us. McQuaid set off an entire brawl, though to be fair, they touched our goalie. He’s going to be suspended for at least one game, which is stupid. The refs weren’t calling obvious penalties and it caused an all-out war. A war we won. But just barely.

We have a rare four days off before our next game, though we still have practice every day. I do think it’s good though to have some time before we face another team, especially because of what just happened.

I’m facing the usual sleepless night when my phone rings and I see it’s Bryson. He rarely calls me, and he definitely doesn’t call me at this time of the night. I know immediately something is wrong. I automatically assume it has to do with our parents, likely that either one or both of them has died.

“What is it?” I answer with little emotion, already expecting what he’s going to tell me.

“Hey, uh, yeah. It’s Brandon.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “What about him?”

“He’s dead. Overdose.”

I process what he’s saying. I don’t even know how long I sit here in silence. Bryson’s words repeating over and over in my head.

He’s dead.

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