Page 47 of Weak Side

It wasn’t until he had pulled me aside, ripping me by the jersey, to inform me that he’d gotten word that Tom Gardini had sent a few of his most trusted scouts to our game, that I quickly became engrossed. Irritation backed my thoughts of Claire, and I refused to look back in the stands until the game was over.

The first two periods were scoreless, and tension was high. We were out for blood with only three minutes left in the third period. That was when we finally got our chance. Ford, Aasher, and I were on the line together, and when I noticed the game clock rapidly ticking down, I nodded at the pair of them and set the play into action. Ford passed the puck back and forth with Dax, making the forward from Valley skate laps like a feral animal near the blue line. My focus was razor sharp as Ford got the puck and snapped it to me, waiting at the crease, eager to lift it just over the goalie’s glove, giving us the W.

My blood ran hot as the team and I skated to center ice to celebrate, silently thanking God that we pulled it together in the end. My breath was escaping like air from a balloon, and it continued all the way to the locker room as I began pulling my gear off. The moment the winning puck made it in the net, the arena was like an anthem roaring through my ears, and I swore I could still hear it. I had an overwhelming rush of satisfaction of not only winning the game but playing the best I had all season—that was, after I had pulled my head out of my ass and stopped worrying about Claire being in the stands.

“And that’s why you’re going to be able to pick whatever fucking team you want next year, Wolf.” Coach had sweat trailing down his face when he peered up at me. He was a short man, but he could be intimidating as fuck.

I nodded and paired it with a half-shrug. “You told me that Tom Gardini had sent some scouts. I knew I needed to kick it up a notch.”

Aasher threw up a fist. “And you fuckin’ did.”

Ford chimed in after stripping down to his boxers. His chest was still heaving from the excitement and physical exertion. “I’m surprised the ice hasn't melted, because you were on fucking fire, man.”

I chuckled but quickly got changed, knowing there were a few journalists waiting outside of the locker room to ask questions. Coach usually only chose a few of us to head out of the locker room early to answer questions. It was my turn tonight, unfortunately.

“And here I thought you played your best because a certain someone was in the stands.” Jett’s gruff voice hit the back of my neck as he half-whispered so no one else would hear. Aasher turned to see my expression, but I kept it as level as it should have been.I was distracted early on in the game, and they knew why.

“Who?” I asked, not wanting to play their games and feed into my already rising disappointment over my slip in focus. “You mean Claire?”

Jett sent me a questionable look as he waited for me to walk out with him to answer a few questions. Coach was waiting by the door, vividly chatting with the assistant coach about the game.

“Why would I care if she was in the stands?”

Ford snickered. “Well, youwerethe one who invited her to the game.”

“No.” I pulled on my hat backward and covered my slightly sweaty hair. I glanced at Ford as I fixed my long-sleeve Bexley U Hockey shirt. “I was just trying to irritate her, as usual. You were the one who conned her best friend into dragging her out.”

He glanced across the room at Emory before turning away and smirking at me. “You’re welcome.”

A crease dove between my brows, but Coach yelled my name, and I brushed my friends off and walked out into the mass of journalists who held their notepads tightly and swung cameras my way. I quickly slipped back into the part of myself that I was most comfortable with: Theo Brooks, the wolf on ice. The guy who was driven by the intense need to follow his goals for more humble reasons than most people probably assumed.

22

Claire

I takeback everything I said about sports.

In all my years of high school and attending Bexley U, I had never been to any type of sporting event. I never went to the football games, or basketball games, and especially not hockey, but that was one of the best experiences I had ever had. The smell of the ice was crisp and refreshing. There was a wave of egotistical athleticism flowing from every single hockey player, but instead of it turning me off in the way that most jocks did, I was mesmerized by their skill and focus.

“So, what did you think?” Taytum pulled me down the long hall, and the farther we got away from the stands, the clearer my thoughts came.

“Honestly?” My cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much. Even my voice came out raspy because I had shouted during the game.Who even am I?“That was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

Taytum squealed and clapped. “Finally!” Her hands landed on my shoulders as we stopped in the middle of a random hallway that seemed like a secret passageway of some sort because not a single person followed us. We were going in the opposite direction of the rest of the crowd. “You”—Taytum’s head fell to mine, our foreheads resting against each other’s for a second—“deserve to have some fun, Claire. Okay?”

I swallowed as she pulled back. Her blue eyes drove into mine, silently touching on what was really going on with me. With Taytum, I could be myself. She knew my insecurities and what I was up against. I didn’t get into all the nitty, gritty details about Chad, but she knew enough. “Thanks for dragging me out.” I sighed. “I won’t lie. It felt good to just put a pause on everything.” I had been totally engrossed in the game, and even though I tried not to watch Theo, it was impossible not to. It was difficult to avoid him, considering he was easily the best player on the ice.

She scoffed as we started down the hall again. I followed after her and watched as she pulled her phone out, reading a text. “I can imagine. You have a lot going on. Rose told me that you’ve been practicing nonstop too.”

I crossed my arms over my Bexley U shirt that I'd received at freshman orientation. Up until tonight, it’d been nothing but a sleep shirt. “How does Rose know?”

Taytum didn’t even bat an eye. “Oh, she goes and gets me coffee every morning at Bex Press.”

Bex Press was the campus coffee shop that most students went to in the mornings to get their fancy lattes and expensive espressos. It was close to the auditorium, and every morning, as I dragged myself out of bed to practice, my mouth salivated at the thought of one of their delicious muffins that I couldn’t afford.

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? You make her get you coffee every morning? Taytum!”

Taytum laughed me off. “I order her one every morning too—as a way to pay her back for going to get it.” Taytum stopped at the end of the hall and turned to the left, going down another hall.

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