Page 30 of The Game

The uneasy feeling that had my brain swirling vanishes as soon as I’m staring down Luchek, my opposing winger. We’re playing U Penn for our opener, and they’ve got the edge this year. We lost a good chunk of our top players to graduation, and even with some promising new talent on the team we’re still building. They’re in a better place, with only two new additions to their first string.

Luchek’s eyes meet mine as the horn blasts setting off a flurry of sticks on ice, and the swish of skates pushing off to get in place. I spin around, keeping my eyes on the action. Grant loses the puck to our opponents, and they drive it toward our net.

Beau and Dev are in place, Dev muscles one of their forwards into the boards with a crash. I skirt the edges of the ice, eyes on Beau as he sneaks in to slip the puck away.

I try not to get too caught up in the noise and distraction of the crowd, but there’s a neon yellow sign with my name on it directly behind the spot where Beau is.

The puck shoots straight at me and I’m a split second too slow to pull my eyes back into the game. Luchek takes advantageof my miss to snag it, driving it back up and passing it to their center in a quicksilver move that lights up our net. Fuck. The booing on our side hits me like a right hook, stealing my breath. My skin is tight, and I’m swallowing back bile as my eyes fall back to the cause of my distraction.

She’s turned around to talk to someone behind her and her blonde hair brushes her shoulders just above the spot where my name is plastered across her shoulders in glaring gold letters. Heat rises to my head, threatening to suffocate me as my vision goes blurry at the edges.

While I’d love to slam a fist into the face of one of our opponents, that would be a terrible idea, so I slam a fist into the boards instead. The pain jarring my wrist shakes me loose from the clutches of the anger that was my first reaction at my ex’s audacity. It dissolves as fast as it came.

“Schaeffer, I thought you said you’d gotten your head into the game?” Beau skates up to me. His tone is stern, but I’ve never seen the guy lose it. He keeps all his emotions on lock, especially on the ice.

“Sorry, Captain. I’m fine. I got this.” And for the first time since she showed back up in my life, I realize I do. I’m practically growling, but it’s more of an automatic reaction at this point. Seeing her wear my jersey is still irritating, but it’s settled more into a numb disgust than rage.

“I hope so. We’re in the middle of a game. An important one. This one is going to set the tone for the rest of the season. Don’t blow it. You’re not getting paid to play hockey now,but if you don’t fuck things up now, you will be next year, and you won’t be able to let your emotions get the best of you.”

All the sympathy that was in Beau’s tone before is gone. He’s slipped into captain mode, and he’s right. Fuck me if I let her get the better of me. If I let her ruin my lifelong dream. The way I’m going to help my dad and sister out. Get somewhere nice. Stable.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He slaps me on the back with a gloved hand. “Good. And besides. You’ve got yourself a real fan now.”

He points his stick into the stands, and I follow the neatly taped white tip to see. Her. The sight of her almost knocks the breath out of me, but it’s grounding too. Pulls me out of the anger that was building back into my body. The numb helplessness gripping my limbs. I can feel the ice under my skates again, the cool air biting at my heated cheeks, and the noise of the crowd.

She’s wearing the jersey I sent over, and it’s everything. It’s not some brand-new jersey anyone could purchase at the campus store. The rich purple fabric is slightly worn from washing. It’s been on my body and now it’s draped over hers. I’d lament the fact that it’s concealing that gorgeous body if not for the fact that her wearing my name feels right in a way I haven’t felt in years. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her that to wear, but I couldn’t exactly afford a brand new one.

I pound the air, heading off the ice for the break. Nervous energy rides me while they get the local kids out on the ice for a shoot off. One of the little ones has a killer slap shot. Maybeone day he’ll be out here with the Lightning working his way to the top. That used to be me. And that me would be disgusted that I was threatening my chances at making the pros over a girl. No matter how badly she hurt me.

When our line gets sent back onto the ice after intermission, I’m ready to go. Nothing can stop me. Not the girl who used to own my heart or the one that’s threatening to settle in there despite my best efforts.

My vision tunnels to focus on one thing. The puck. I’m constantly tracking it, planning my next move to get ahead of our opponent’s defensive line. I’ve always been good at finding the best spots. Small holes in the other team’s defense, weaknesses in the goalie. Penn’s goalie is good, but he’s been going to his glove side more often than not tonight, and when he has to go stick side, he’s a fraction of a second slower than usual. That tiny bit of hesitation looks like a minor injury he’s favoring. Maybe a strain or pull. Probably minor, but enough to give me a slight advantage if I can convince my team to pass to me after that shitty lapse in attention earlier.

Grant snags the puck from Luchek when I’m hovering on the wrong side. I slide behind the net while he takes a shot. I know it’s not going to make it in before I hear the clang of the puck bouncing off the bar. But I’m there in time. I scoop it up, sending it low and to the left.

Exhilaration fills me as I light it up with a goal that ties up the game.

My team crowds me, and the cheers from the fans fill me up even more, but I can’t help myself from zeroing in on that onespot in the stands. The spot where she’s sitting, and a warm pride tightens my chest when I see her on her feet, cheering me on.

The vibe in the dressing room is fire. Hail almost started a fight when he snatched the puck from Gillan near the end of the game. But I’m relieved I was able to contribute with my one goal plus the assist. There’s so much more pressure weighing me down this year.

“Schaeffer, that goal you snuck in was a thing of beauty.”

“I’m the one who scored the winning goal. You may all bow down before me,” Hail shouts from across the dressing room.

Dev half rises out of his seat, glancing at Beau. But the captain gives a subtle shake of his head, and he settles back down with a grunt.

“Don’t be a dick, Hail. This is exactly the attitude that’s going to get your ass kicked if you don’t smarten up.”

Hail smirks, slinging his gear bag over his shoulder before he struts out. Probably going to snag a girl that will give him the admiration he’s craving.

“Anyway, like I was saying. Good goal, Schaeffer. It’s like you could see inside his head.”

I nod, struggling to pull my plain white dress shirt on over damp arms. As I’m working through the buttons, I look up to spot Beau staring me down as he shrugs into his much fancier plum colored suit jacket. Right. I’ve gotten so used to keeping to myself that I’ve forgotten that these guys are my teammates. We’re in this together.

“Smolders was favoring his left side. Maybe a slight injury. It seemed like my best chance.”

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