Page 11 of Butterfly Effect

“Here comes the puck. Here comes the puck!” My excited chant echoes in the helmet. “Can I block it?” The opposite team’s center slaps a shot my way, and I knock it away. The crowd roars. “Ooh, I blocked it. Take that!”

Landon claps and points. “Atta boy, Wade.”

“I gotchu, dawgy.”

A minute later, in the middle of my falsetto version of “Single Ladies” by Beyoncé, Winnipeg makes a breakaway.

“Look sharp, Boehner.” I trill out a Tarzan yell, diving to the side to stop the goal.

Jaeger finally catches up and rounds the net.

“Nowyou show up. We got a bunch of dusters on the ice today. Damn.”

He lightly smacks my helmet for that comment and taps away the next shot before it gets to the crease to make it up to me.

“Aw, thanks, Jaeg! Love you, Jaeg.”

During the last intermission, I strip the pads from my torso and scarf down half a burger and a Red Bull. Jaeger’s reviewing plays with Coach. It’s the perfect opportunity.

There’s no rhyme or reason for antagonizing Derrick Jaeger. He’s married to Skylar, my childhood best friend, and the closest thing I have to a sister, practically family. I can’t stop myself.

“Hey, Peter!” I shout to my PA. “Find me a pair of scissors, will ya?”

I unzip the suit bag hanging in the captain’s cubby and chuckle. Can’t wait to see the look on his grouchy face. Two snips and the sleeves are off, their remnants stuffed into my duffle.

Third period, my men go hard. Must be all the Coke they guzzled. The game’s been a shutout, and Winnipeg is visibly tired. One attempt to get the puck through my five-hole is unsuccessful.

“Your shot can’t repel a butterfly of that magnitude!”

I growl and puff my chest, lifting my arms in victory for the arena as half of it cheers and the other half looks grossly disappointed by their hometown team.

Fletch gets the assist to Landon’s last goal before the buzzer, and we pull together in a huddle, exchanging laughter and congratulations.

“Nice one, Fletch.” I tip my helmet up before my paddle circles his neck. “That’s gonna get you laid tonight.”

“Fuck off.” He pulls away and steps through the boards.

“Fine. Be like that. Maybe you won’t, but I sure as hell plan on it.”

Or die trying.

Press appears in one corner of my vision when I turn to check on Jaeg.

Gabe Finch smiles into the camera and says something in the mic before offering it to our captain to answer. My dick doubles. Shit.

I head down the hall to undress and cool down, grumbling curses at my luck, wishing there was a way to scrub a meaningless one-night stand from my brain in this locker room shower.

All the puck bunnies in town followed us to Byzantium tonight.

Landon disappeared after team dinner, probably to meet Indi. Jaeg isn’t here either, thank God. Sky unknowingly saved my ass from a beating after our captain found his newly-cut sleeveless suit. It’s not like he can’t afford another.

Most of the guys scatter throughout the carnival-themed club’s bar area, but Fletch, the nervous Nelly, sits on a stool and nurses his drink like it’s the last one on Earth. He jolts upright when my hand claps his back.

“Bottoms up, Fletchy boy. It’ll put some hairs on your chest.”

I take a long gulp of my beer and order another.

“It’s too strong,” he complains, stirring the gin and tonic. “And I already have hair on my chest. Can we go back to the hotel yet?”

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