Page 24 of Holiday Hostilities

9

AARON

I’ve played hockey for most of my life, and played it professionally for the best part of a decade, and it still amazes me that every single game can be so different.

Sometimes, you’re out on the ice and it’s the most fun you’ve ever had. You’re amped up, full of adrenaline, and everything—from the acrid smell of rubber and frozen water, to the feel of the ice gliding below your skates, to the bone-rattling sensation of being smashed into the boards—makes you feel invincible. Ready to take on the world.

Other times, it’s a grind. No matter how much crocheting you did before the game, you’re stressed about what went down with the media and what this might mean for your career. As much as you try to get your head squarely on the ice, your mind is wandering, preoccupied with what you could have said or done differently. Your hair is stuck to your forehead, wet with sweat, your ribs ache from that hit you took last game, and your entire body throbs with the lactic acid circulating in your muscles.

You’re not playing for pleasure. You’re playing to survive.

Today’s Thanksgiving special is one of those games.

Well, it is up until the last few moments, when I catch Olivia Griswold on her feet and cheering after I score. I almost fall off my skates, I’m so shocked.

Her hair’s mussed, her arms are in the air, and even from all the way down here on the ice I can see that her eyes are shining… forme.

Correction: for the Cyclones. But that’s just a technicality, because as per usual when it comes to Liv, I’ll take what I can get. And this? This is a world away from the dirty looks and pursed lips I normally get from her.

I’m not sure which I love more.

And I need this motivation right now. Guess that stupid cockroach story got under my skin more than I’d like to admit.

When the game concludes, I skate off the ice reminding myself that at least the stupid cockroach story didn’t stop us from getting the W today. I’m glad I didn’t let anything going on in my head affect my performance on the ice.

No matter how I feel, playing at my best is a non-negotiable.

I’ve barely unlaced when there’s a sharp rap on the locker room door.

“Everyone decent?” a female voice calls. I’m not surprised that she’s here.

I glance around quickly to check that there are no rogue penises on display. “Come in, Reagan.”

The Cyclones social media manager peeks her head around the door. “Hey guys. Great game tonight,” she says as she carefully averts her eyes from Triple J’s currently shirtless chest. Which is kind of funny. For once, our brash social media manager is out of her element—mostly consisting of coercing us into posing for shirtless calendars and dressing up as elves for charity events and the like. Her eyes dart up long enough to meet mine. “Um, got a minute, Aaron?”

I already know what’s coming, can feel the prickle of anxiety work its way back into my belly. Reagan is always on top of things, and I’m sure she was doing damage control the entire time we were on the ice. When Brandi’s first “jilted ex lover” story hit the internet a while back, Reagan was quick to respond with extra positive social media content about me on the Cyclones account. She’s good at her job, and I appreciate all she does.

“Sure.” I follow her out the door and into the hallway.

Reagan shifts from foot to foot. Opens her mouth. Closes it. Smiles tightly.

“Spit it out, Reagan,” I tell her.

She pauses for another moment before swallowing. “I’m assuming you’ve seen it?”

“I did, and it’s fine,” I say as convincingly as I can.Because we just won the game. Because I have an otherwise good reputation.“This is just a case of a fan who’s gone rogue. There’s no real story here. Probably just a slow news day or something. It’ll blow over.”

“Have you looked at the news since coming off the ice?”

I raise a brow. “No.”

She shakes her purple-tipped hair then bites her lip nervously. “Well, you’re both right and wrong. The cockroach thing is just a stupid non-starter…”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” I say drily.

“Butall the major news outlets have picked up on Sadie Lincoln’s question regarding your captaincy. It’s being discussed at length on all the sports networks right now, so I’m sure you’ll be getting a barrage of questions about it at the press conference.”

Lincoln. That was her last name.

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