Page 33 of For Puck's Sake

Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I smile mischievously at my bestie making her narrow her eyes in suspicion.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want to hear it, Brea. I’m fine. I don’t need an intervention,” she says, somehow knowing what direction this conversation is going in.

“Sebastian,” I blurt out. I’m so used to calling him Bast, saying his actual name feels strange.

Red shifts her weight from foot to foot. “What about him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes even further and making me want to laugh at her pinched face.

“I mean, he comes into the bar with Ridley and Devan, you two are always talking together. Maybe?—"

Red laughs again cutting off my words. “Brea, Bast is cool, we like to talk about politics, especially after he called your mom out a couple of weeks ago. But you know, he will never be interested in me.”

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. Yes, Bast is very private, but I knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. “Why not? You’rebeautiful, independent, you own your own business, and you have a law degree. What is not to love about you?” I ask in confusion.

“Ahh, let’s see. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a dick. Bast is not into women, Brea. He is gay,” she says shaking her head.

My mouth falls open in surprise. “How do you know? How did I miss that?” I ask, still stunned over my lack of observational skills. I mean, Bast and I aren’t as close as Devan or Tor and me. He joined the Vipers the year I left Ridley. I guess it makes sense for him to keep his sexuality private.

Red scoffs in offense. “I run a bar, Brea. I’m in the business of learning about people, observing them. It’s all one giant social experiment,” she says waving her arm in a circular motion. “In conclusion, he is not my type, and I am not his. Plus, I think his eyes are firmly planted on someone else.”

Before I can ask her who, my phone rings in my bag. My eyes widen, because, yeah, I’m still holding two cups of coffee. Red takes pity on me and pulls my phone out of my front pocket then mouths, “See you tonight,” as she slides the phone in between my ear and my shoulder. I mouth, “bye” to her then awkwardly speed walk back to my jeep and place my coffees down on the hood of my car before answering the phone.

“Hello,” I say without seeing who it is I’m about to speak to.

“Miss Brookes, this is Damien Greer. I think you and I need to talk.”

TWENTY

RIDLEY

It’s scrimmage day. The final day of camp and the kids are buzzing. The excited energy in the arena is as electric as game day. Not going to lie, I’ve been looking forward to today. Tor and Alexis arrived this morning as Brea and I parted ways, and I’m so happy to see my bestie in the flesh. I’m even more excited to have him suited up on the ice with us today. The teams will be a mixture of camp counselors and older teens between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. A friendly end of camp game to show off how much they’ve learned and an opportunity to play with professional hockey players.

I mean, if I was given a chance like this as a kid I would have lost my shit. We’ve been working with these kids all summer and I feel a sense of pride at how far some of them have come. Tor even invited a few college scouts to check out three of the older campers who have the potential to do great things if given the opportunity. Derrick has stepped in as goalie for team A, while Bast is taking team B. I promised the kids a shootout all summer and after the game, the two of them will go head-to-head. Someone has to put the budding rookie in the hot seat and a promise is a promise.

When I teased Bast about it when we first arrived, he didn’t seem fazed, all I got for my taunting was a grunt from the big guy. But why am I not surprised? It’s Bast, the goalie with the most shutouts in the NHL. If one of these kids gets one past him, I will never let him live it down. Derrick on the other hand, well, if the video reels of his saves have anything to say about his ability, then he’s going to give Bast a run for his money once the season starts.

I can’t fucking wait and I’m giddy with excitement. Training camp and then preseason can’t get here fast enough. We have a title to reclaim, and as my dad used to tell me,“You’re only as good as your last game, Ridley. If you’re riding the high of a win, then make sure you keep soaring.”I take his words to heart with every game we play. Making it to the finals and going on to win the Stanley Cup last season meant everything—one of the greatest moments of my career—now we are facing a clean slate, and coach Lennox will expect the same level of commitment and outcome from us.

“Damn, it feels good to have my pads on,” I say as I skate in slow circles around Bast’s net. He is in the middle of scraping up the ice in front of him, lost in his own thoughts, but I expect nothing less from Bast. We are all creatures of habit. Scrimmage or not, a routine is a routine, and it must be followed religiously for some hockey players. Well, I guess you can say the same for most athletes. Leaving him to his ritual, I make my way across the ice, stopping beside the blue line to peer into the crowd of younger campers and their parents who came to watch today. I spot Alexis sitting alone in the stands away from the crowd, book in hand, hair in a curly ponytail on top of her head, with a blinding diamond on her left hand. I guess Tor wants theastronauts to see her wedding ring from space. I mean, really Tor?

As if she can sense my eyes on her, Alexis looks up, smiles, and waves at me. She looks at the empty seat next to her, raising her brows in question and shrugs. I shrug back, because I’m trying not to worry about the reasons why my girl is not here yet. When we parted this morning, I knew she was going to town to grab coffee from Charlie’s and then she was coming here for class. She should have been done by now. Glancing up, I check the time on the countdown clock and wonder if she got caught up talking to her students. It was their last day after all, and I know they were all sad to see her go.

“Is Brea coming? Or are you gazing longingly at my wife?” Tor asks as he skates up next to me, giving me a playful nudge with his stick that sends me gliding a few inches away from him.

I close the short distance between us and shove him back, giving the crowd a show, laughing at his surprise. I guess he didn’t expect me to retaliate. “Oh, come on, Tor, your wife is wearing a t-shirt with Mrs. Bailey on the front. I wouldn’t dare. We all know she belongs to you, you possessive jerk.” I point up to Alexis and roll my eyes. But of course, he’s no longer paying attention to me, he’s too busy blowing kisses and bowing like a lovesick fool at Alexis. Geez, is it going to be like this when the season starts?

Turning away from the PDA I keep talking, knowing Tor he’s got his captain ears on, so I’m sure he can hear me. “She’s supposed to be here by now. But she’s been teaching the music class this summer and it’s their last day too. She’ll be here,” I reply, turning my attention to the main double doors, willing her to step through them. I don’t know why I feel so anxious about her arrival, but something feels off.

“Nothing I say right now will ease your mind, until you lay eyes on her, so I won’t say anything. Alexis is fangirling hard,so if she is not here soon, she might turn bloodhound and go sniff her out,” he says with a pat to my back, pulling me out of my thoughts. I chuckle with the mental image of Alexis seeking out Brea through the building and it lifts my spirits if only for a minute.

“Oh, just so you know, my wife made the shirt herself. She’s the real possessive one in this marriage.” He chuckles, and I shake my head, because of course she is. The buzzer sounds on the clock and Tor claps his hands and yells at everyone skating on the ice, “Alright, let’s play some hockey!”

Taking one last look at the doors, I put all thoughts of Brea aside and follow Tor to the center of the ice where Devan is waiting.

“Alright, kiddos, I want a nice clean game of hockey. Let’s not break anyone’s child today.” Devan looks to me and then Tor with a serious expression on his face. He opted out of playing today and chose to referee, and it seems he is taking his job seriously. I fight back a smile and give him a stiff nod. Tor gives him a ‘do you know who you talking to?’ deadpan look, then nods as well.

Devan looks to his left toward Bast, then right toward Derrick, checking in with them both. I get into position and wait, watching the puck as he squats with it between his fingers. Tor shuffles on his skates, stick poised and ready. I can feel the anticipation of the teens at my back, their eagerness to prove themselves today thick in the air as they move nervously around us.

Devan drops the puck and it’s game on as Tor and I fight for it. The younger campers in the stands are yelling with excitement as they cheer on the older ones playing alongside us. Tor wins the puck, turning on a dime and passing it off to one of the younger players on the ice today. Franklin is only sixteen, but the kid is already a beast as he drives the puck down the icetoward Bast. He’s the one a lot of the scouts have come to check out today, and I hope they get a show.

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