Page 156 of Ice Mechanic

“I need to make a call.” He fumbles for his cell phone.

I block Max’s way. After a few seconds of my intense staring and Max’s squirming, he finally breaks.

“Your agent called. He wanted me to send over the contract you’d signed with the Lucky Strikers.”

Shock rushes through my system. “What?”

“He told me not to tell you. Said nothing’s set in stone yet but…”

I break into a wide grin. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man.” Max leaks a smile.

My mind runs at a million miles a minute. Derek isn’t the type who’ll miss an opportunity to make money. And he definitely isn’t the type to make a move that willlosemoney.

If he’s already reaching out to Max for negotiations about my contract, he’s got something solid in the works.

I’m still thinking about Max’s words when I get on the ice.

“Heads-up, MC.” Renthrow shoots a puck, his skates making askkktsound as he stops abruptly.

Instinct kicks in. I instantly get in position for a wrist shot, sending the disc straight into the net.

“Hey-yo!” Theilan lifts his hockey stick, skating past in celebration.

Gunner smirks. “Show off.”

I laugh and shake my head.

Renthrow partners up with me for the next set of drills.

“Did you miss me, Renthrow?” I tease.

“Not as much as the others. They were grumbling about not being invited to your party.”

“Wasn’tmyparty,” I answer, already starting to breathe hard from the drills, “but yeah. I’ll invite everyone next time.”

“Heard that!” Theilan says, skating past.

“You better not play with me, McLanely. I’ll be waiting for that invitation,” Watson adds, following right behind Theilan.

I grin wide as Renthrow and I complete another set. Strangely, I wouldn’t mind having the guys at one of mom’s boring parties, especially if April chose not to go and I was attending solo. It would liven up the night and I might actually enjoy myself.

The coach—who still seems to dislike me but has learned to tolerate me because of my skills on the ice—blows his whistle.

Renthrow and I change directions and join the others to practice cycling the puck.

As we get into formation, I seamlessly rotate with Gunner over to the vacated defensive position. He catches my eyes and I understand him perfectly, moving ahead. Despite our rocky start, Gunner and I have developed the best rapport on the ice.

I have a fairly good relationship with all the skaters. The pressure to one-up one another isn’t as harsh here as it is in the majors. Whether that’s by design or a by-product of most of these guys growing up in Lucky Falls together, there’s a layer of care beneath the competition.

Gunner rotates positions again and I know he’s about to cycle the puck in the zone. In two moves, I skate ahead of him, accept the breakout pass and send it back. Gunner goes to the net and the satisfyingwhiffof the puck hitting the rope fills my ears.

“Nice!” Renthrow compliments us, moving back to the line.

I grin. Power plays like this one are strategic, but I’ve never remembered enjoying a free-form play with any other team.

After practice and a shower, I send April a text asking if she wants to meet up for a late lunch.

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