Page 47 of Ice Mechanic

Max scrolls down and winces. “You plan to sue the entire world then?”

“If I have to. Our family lawyers are on retainer.”

Max snorts but it slowly dies into a cough. “Oh you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” I grab my gloves.

“I admire your ‘go the extra mile’ spirit, but they don’t give hand out trophies for fake boyfriend of the year.”

I reach for my hockey stick and press the locker door until it clicks. “Shut up, man. What else are they saying online?”

Max follows me to the exits, reading out. “This article says you… whoa. Did you really give April that convertible?” He eyes me with a smirk. “If so, I hope my custom cruiser is coming in the mail.”

I unclip the toy car linked to the side of my gym bag and toss it over to Max. “Here you go. No need to thank me.”

Max huffs. “Forget it.”

Chuckling at his disappointed expression, I head to the arena. Everyone is already warming up on the ice. A few of theplayers wave to me. I’ve met up with the rest of the team and gotten to know them over the past week.

Unfortunately, the friendliest faces on the ice belong to the weakest players. I accepted a pseudo-mentorship role, but it’s been difficult training with skaters who still lose track of the puck.

Shaking out my limbs, I get on the ice and notice two cameras set up on either side of the bleachers. There’s a camera lady standing at the entrance, speaking into a microphone.

Just then, Gunner skates past me and knocks into my shoulder, sending me sprawling forward. My hands windmill forward and it’s only my instincts that keep me upright.

Without an apology, Gunner skates on and starts stretching.

The schmuck is my least favorite person and I especially despise him for being related to April’s bum of an ex, but I can’t lose my cool.

Not in front of a camera.

My agent told me to revamp my image and fighting a teammate on the nightly news won’t win me brownie points.

Think about April and you’ll be alright.

I grip my hockey stick, inhale a deep breath and think about April squealing over the Bel Air in the parking lot. A smile inches over my lips and, when I open my eyes, I don’t have the crazy urge to shove Gunner into the boards.

“Hey, man.” I skate up to Gunner who’s using his hockey stick to stretch his arms behind his back.

He glares at me behind the visor of his helmet.

“Hate me or not, we’re both here for the same reason.” I nod. “Let’s have a good game.”

His stare turns ten times frostier than the ice. “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you because of the cameras, McLanely.”

“Give it your best shot.” I tap my shoulder where he’d knocked into me. “I’ll repay you for that later.”

He skates off.

Renfrow, Theilan and Watson follow him.

Looks like I won’t be invited to the cool kids’ table any time soon.

I glance out at the bleachers and notice Max, making a ‘calm down’ motion with his hands. Rolling my eyes, I skate to the opposite corner of the ice to get my stretches in.

The game starts and I know exactly what play Gunner, Renfrow, and Theilan are going to make as if I was a fly on the wall during their strat meeting.

The defensemen are on my tail, forming a block whenever one of my teammates looks for an opening to pass me the puck. No matter where I go, there’s always three guards, leaving my other teammates free.

---