Page 48 of Pucking Off-Sides With My Brother's Best Friend

Her hits are precise like each plate personally pissed her off. With every smash, I can see the weight lifting off her. Her eyes are bright, grin wild, and I get it. I feel myself tensing and relaxing with her until, suddenly, it all stops. Our eyes lock over the mess of broken shit, and I know we understand each other ina way words can’t touch. This isn’t just about breaking stuff; it’s about taking back control.

I walk over, feeling the room heat up. I take the sledgehammer, setting it aside. The air’s electric as she keeps her eyes on me. Standing here, surrounded by the remains of our rage, I have a moment of clarity. I want her. More than that, I want her to want me.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, my voice softer than its ever come out. Aurora shivers, and I put my hand on her hip.

“Better?” She nods, letting me lead her out. We strip off our gear in silence.

On the drive back, she’s quiet, and I let her be. I know how it feels after your first time here.

Finally, she speaks. “Thanks... for tonight.”

“Anytime,” I grunt, eyes on the road. “Say the word if you wanna go back. Good for working out feelings and shit.”

She giggles, and fuck if that sound doesn’t make me smile.

“Is that where you always disappear to?To work out feelings and shit?”

I could brush her off, but we’ve had a moment. I’m not gonna be a dick now. “Yeah,” I admit. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.

“After you talk with your dad?” Damn, how’d she figure that out?

“We don’t have to talk about it. she adds”

I glance at her. Aurora’s looking out the window, but I can see she’s still down. I grit my teeth. Why’s this so fucking hard?

“Yeah,” I finally say. “He calls after games, gives me shit when he thinks I didn’t play right.”

“But you’ve won every game.”

I shrug, trying to look like I don’t give a fuck. “Doesn’t matter if he thinks I fucked up somehow.” Saying it out loud feels like taking a puck to the face. “He’s got these expectations. If I don’t meet ’em exactly, I’ve failed.”

Aurora’s quiet, but I feel her eyes on me. Then her hand’s on mine on the gearshift. I look down for a sec.

“Has it always been like this?” she asks softly.

I let out a harsh laugh. “Since I could hold a fucking stick. Hockey’s all he cares about. Hell, it’s the only thing he’s ever paid for.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he wouldn’t buy me new shoes when mine had holes, but he’d drop a grand on new skates in a heartbeat. As long as I was winning, that is.”

Aurora squeezes my hand. “That’s fucked up, Aiden.”

“Yeah, well. That’s dear old dad for you. Neglectful as hell unless it involves ice time.”

“Did he ever...” she trails off, but I know what she’s asking.

“Hit me? Nah. But words can leave bruises too, you know? Every game, every practice, it’s always ‘not good enough, Aiden’ or you’re embarrassing me out there’.” Aurora’s quiet for a moment.

“You know that’s not true, right? You’re an amazing player.”

I grunt, not sure how to handle the compliment. “Tell that to him. Nothing’s ever enough.”

“Well, I think you’re enough,” she says firmly. “More than enough.”

“Thanks for telling me, “She says softly. Her lips turn up a bit. “I’m here if you need to talk. Or if you need a rage room buddy.”

“Yeah?” I smile a little. When she nods, I turn my hand over, lacing our fingers. “It’s a date then.”

---