Page 30 of A Little Complicated

A rope of guilt tightens around my chest, and it’s impossible to shake off, but I skate toward the chaos. Once I’m practically wedged between them, I shove at their chests hoping to create another foot of distance. Maverick barely budges, but I press forward, announcing, “This is fun and all, but I thought we were going to play hockey not chitchat about your teammates’ sex lives. I mean, unless you’re all about a sausage fest, Trevor, then hey. Take your time. I don’t judge.”

Cameron glares down at me, his molars grinding. “You’re right. I think it’s time someone shows you what it’s like to play with the big boys.” He heads toward the red line while Maverick stays behind me.

Turning around, I lift my head and hold his stare. Stupid Cameron and his stupid asshole comment. Mav looks pissed again. Like Cameron has doused his thoughts in gasoline and tossed a match onto them, leaving him blazing.

“You okay?” I whisper. I don’t want to draw attention to us, but I also don’t want Maverick to be mad or for him to feel dirty or feel like he’s second to his brother or—

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” he questions. “It’s not like I’m sharing you with my brother, right?”

“Mav…”

“Get between the pipes, Opie.”

“Maverick…”

He skates closer, and his eyes darken. “Get. Between. The pipes.”

“Fine.” I grab my blocker and catcher from the bench, then head to the goal as the rest of the guys take to the ice. I should probably be a little more on edge since these men are insanely good, but I’ve played with Everett, Griffin, Maverick, Jaxon, and Archer for as long as I can remember. A buffoon like Cameron with an ego the size of Texas? Yeah, I think I can handle him.

“Mav, you’re with Cameron,” Griffin says as he splits the players into teams.

“Why?” Maverick demands.

“Because if I put you against him, I’m pretty sure you’ll wind up killing each other,” Griffin mutters. “You cool playing center?”

“He’s a defender,” I remind Griff from the crease, not even bothering to hide how I was most definitely eavesdropping.

Griffin barely casts me a glance, answering, “We like to switch things up during practice.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Afraid I’ll score on you, Opie?” Maverick calls.

I press my lips together, and he smirks, turning back to Griffin. “Might be good to knock her down a few pegs,” he adds. “I think the whole scholarship thing might’ve gone to her head.”

Ah, sarcastic Maverick’s back. Grrrreat.

Not giving Griff a chance to respond, I say, “Fine. Play center. Let’s see if you can knock me down a few pegs, shall we?”

“Careful,” Everett warns me. He’s closer than the others, but I don’t miss the way he’s giving me a look saying I’d be an idiot not to listen to him.

“Careful of what? Adefenderscoring on me?” I laugh, watching Maverick palm his stick, his hot gaze burning a hole through my eye sockets. I’m not sure why. It’s not like he wasn’t defending me against Cameron two minutes ago, but hey. Once on his shit list, always on his shit list, apparently.

“Fine,” Griffin gives in.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Everett mutters to me and skates off to the center of the rink.

Griffin finishes splitting the teams in two, and we take our sides. Everett and Maverick meet at the center line. In a flash, they’re off. Maverick passes the puck to Cameron, who slaps it toward my net, but I catch it with ease, letting it fall between my skates and arching my brow.

“Is this all you got, boo?”

His upper lip curls, and I pass the puck to one of the players on my team, who chips it off the board and toward the opposite side of the rink. Griffin catches it, cycling it with another random player near the boards. Everett moves into the slot, and Griff passes to him. In an instant, he shoots the puck past LAU’s goalie, and I cheer from the opposite goal crease.

“Yes!”

A few minutes later, Cameron tries to score on me again, but I block the shot with my stick at the last second.

Okay, that was a close one.

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