Page 58 of Defensive Zone

“Have you heard anything from your brother?”

I found out that my brother, Brody, had been traded from New Jersey to Toronto as soon as we landed in Pittsburgh. He’s been unhappy in New Jersey for quite some time, and I knew he had been pushing for a trade, but we’re not as close as people expect us to be.

Growing up, I was constantly compared to Brody. Even our dad would pit us against each other—who could score the most goals, who had more time on ice per game, who had the highest shooting percentage. Brody reveled in the fact he was drafted and I wasn’t because I decided against entering the draft as I wanted to graduate college with Carter. My dad said I was a disappointment to the Reid family name for not following tradition and didn’t speak to me for weeks because of it. Still, I held my head high and worked my ass off in the AHL to make sure I was valuable enough for the Thunder when they called me up that they wouldn’t send me back down.

The hard work paid off, too, because they ended up offering me a full contract, and I’ve been here since.

Turning to Jackson, I shake my head. “No, but we’re playing Toronto when we’re home, so I’ll probably catch him then.”

Jackson’s brows furrow in confusion behind his visor.

I’ve come to accept that while we aren’t that close, Brody loves me in his own weird way. He only checked in on me twice while I was recovering, but I didn’t let it get to me. I just put it down to the fact it’s Brody, and he’s got bigger things to worry about. It’s always bothered Carter more than me. But now isn’t the time to be thinking about my big brother.

The first period goes scoreless and is pretty uneventful. Pittsburgh is on a four-game losing streak, so they’re hungry for a win, but they’re not being very aggressive about it. Elliot slapped every shot on goal away like a bored cat playing with a mouse.

“This game needs to spice up a bit. I’m almost taking a nap out there, boys,” he complains during the intermission while flossing in the middle of the locker room. As in the dance move, not his teeth. “Can you guys get a penalty or something? Make it exciting, like five on three or something, because I’mbored?—”

“No,” Ethan quickly interrupts, throwing a glare at everyone around the room. “No penalties.”

When we go back out for the second period, Blaine manages to slip one in the top left corner with me getting a point for the assist and putting us up by one. I skate back to the bench, a wide grin on my face as I sit down and squirt some water in my mouth.

“Doing good, Reid?” Peyton asks, knocking my helmet with his.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I nod truthfully.

I’m not sure if I’m just having a good day or if it’s the adrenaline of being back on the ice keeping the headache at bay and I’ll have a migraine when we get back. Either way, I’m taking it as a win.

The game ends with a win of 1-0. Since Elliot had a shutout, he’s been granted control of the post-W playlist. As Kylie Minogue’s “The Loco-Motion” blasts through the speakers in the locker room, a few of the guys dance in their hockey pants and skates, having tossed their jerseys in the laundry hamper. Elliot’s in the middle of the pack, goalie pads still on as he mimics a train with Peyton.

“How did I end up here?” Ethan grumbles under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I grin. “You love it.”

The dance-off continues as I hit the showers then change into my suit. There’s no rush to catch a flight as we’re only leaving for New York in the morning, from where we’ll fly back to Chicago after the game. We all pile on the waiting bus that takes us to our hotel before deciding to eat our weight in food and have a beer while running through tonight’s game.

“I think I’m gonna head up,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up.

“Already?” Elliot frowns. “But we haven’t played darts yet.”

I tap my head with my finger. “I’m tired, and I don’t wanna overdo it by not resting.”

I’m also dying to talk to Carter, but I don’t want to admit that and open myself up to the ribbing we give Blaine over Alex.

“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Elliot nods a few times. “Breakfast at eight, yeah? I hear they have pancakes.”

“You got it, bud.” I hold my fist out and he bumps it, then I say goodnight to the rest of the guys.

I slide my phone out of my pocket as I weave through the tables toward the lobby, quickly typing out a text to Carter.

Zach

I’m about to head up to my room. Are you still awake?

Carter

Yeah I am. I’ve been rocking a boner ever since I saw your gorgeous face on the TV.

I might send those camera people a bottle of nice scotch for the close-up. When you were squirting that water in your mouth, I imagined it was me shooting come down your throat.

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