Page 60 of First Puck

I adjusted my stick as I gritted my teeth, shaking off the total feeling of wrongness that swept over me as Lance and Alex sailed past me again.

***

We were so fucking close. Alex and Lance’s team kept stealing the puck, but we were one up. We just had to stop them.

There were still ten minutes left of the practice game, but every time Lance and Alex passed to each other I went psycho. I couldn’t stop it. I wanted to tear them apart to stop the way they kept checking in with each other as they soared across theice, even though Tommy and I were doing the exact same thing when we were on.

They were too tight, too in sync, too cozy with each other. If we were playing the real match, they wouldn’t get away with basically hugging on the ice.

Well, maybe I was exaggerating because I couldn’t look anywhere else, but that wasn’t the point!

Because they played really fucking well together.

I mean, Alex was good. No matter which way you looked at it, Alex was a fucking legend. That’s why the Wranglers picked him up last year.

But he and Lance were stars on the ice together, too.

“Brad!” Chase shouted from his defense position, shooting the puck toward me. I pushed it, already on the move toward the net. The more practice we did here, the more prepared we’d be for tomorrow. That much was fucking obvious, but it didn’t stop my flare of anger as Lance fixed his sights on me.

The echoes of the rink beat off me as I kept my head down, shoulders loose, barreling toward that asshole.

He threw Alex a look, and they glided away, totally in sync, knowing exactly where the other one was going.

With Alex on the left and Lance surging toward me, I sliced up the ice. My focus stayed on the puck and their positions, but they were closing in fast with a pincer attack. Tommy was too far away for a guaranteed shot, but I took it, anyway. I only had to get far enough forward to shunt it past Lance and we’d be off.

The ice screeched under my skates as I twisted to take the shot. That, combined with the slick blades of Alex and Lance, were the only sound I heard as I angled my stick and aimed straight between the pair of them.

And Lance shot out his stick and blocked it with a loud clack like it was nothing. He whooped as he skated past me, turning on the tip of his blade toward our net, Alex following in hot pursuit.

Frustration blazed through me as they sped down the ice to the goal. Chase and Porter kept up, but I could already see Lance was going to get it.

It was like they were dancing. It didn’t matter how much I pushed myself, all I could see were their backs as they raced away from me.

They easily dodged my teammates to get thirty feet from each other.

It was a quick shunt from Alex, a catch from Lance, and suddenly the puck bounced off the back of the net.

There were only thirty of us in the rink, but the cheers that went up were bouncing on the ceiling.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Because, as soon as they skidded past the net, they curled back around each other, and Lance dragged Alex into a hug.

And I choked as rage burst through me.

He stole my shot, he stole my position, and he was stealing my best friend.

I sped toward them, closer and closer, the heat building inside me as I stayed fixed on them.

My hands shook as I clenched my stick, jaw tight, my heart thumping in my ears.

I wasn’t slowing for a single fucking second, not when Lance pulled back from Alex, keeping one arm on his shoulder, bumping his helmet against Alex’s like some fucking kiss on the forehead.

I couldn’t take it.

I could have stopped, swerved just before them, but my vision went red and all I could see was that picture I imagined of Lance and Alex fucking.

Like when I was making a play for the goal, I zeroed in on Lance.

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