Page 21 of Shot Through the Heart

Shifting my focus back to the face-off, I eye the Colorado player across from me as we wait for the puck to drop. Hunter Riggs practically radiates dominance as he lowers into position. We catch each other’s eye, and I find myself biting back a taunting smirk. Something in my gut tells me the game is ours, but I’m never the one to be cocky and tease our opponents. Hell, I rarely get into fights on or off the ice.

The puck drops and it’s only a matter of minutes before we have complete control. Dom dodges the Yetis’ rookie and passes me the puck. I don’t even think it through as I take the shot to the net and score the winning goal.

My chest tightens and this time when Landon throws an arm around my shoulder, I don’t immediately shrug him off.

We go through the motions, shaking hands with the other team and handing out repetitive “good game” mumbles before heading to the locker room.

We listen to Coach congratulate us, then sit through Landon’s speech about us starting the season with a winning streak. Not that we need the motivation. Everyone here is eager to prove we have what it takes to make it to the championship this year. Considering how close we had been, havingalmostmade it last year, only to lose in overtime and not make it to the final game.

Dean throws himself down beside me, shaking the entire bench as he bounces his knee.

“You coming with us to meet up with Valencia for a drink?” he asks, bending forward to tie his shoe. I knew some of them had made the plans before we got into town to meet up with our old social media manager, but going out after a game is a hard pass for me.

If I’m not actively playing or traveling for a game, going out past ten at night is always a no. I am not built for late nights.

I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. My mom scheduled a phone call for after the game and would kill me if I canceled.”

It’s not a complete lie. My mother really is very particular about our scheduled phone calls. To say she freaked out the one time I did miss a call would be an understatement. She was five minutes from the airport by the time I remembered to look at my phone. In her eyes, the only reason I wasn’t answering was because I had to be in the hospital again. Getting caught up with extra time on the ice was not an acceptable excuse either.

I shiver at the memory of her crying on the phone and finally realize Dean is frozen beside me. The shoelaces slip from his fingers, and he slowly tilts his head to look at me. It takes me longer than it should to figure out why he looks so shocked.

“Dude. I didn’t even know youhada mom.” He gasps and for some reason I will not be looking further into, my stomach swoops with guilt. Surely, I’ve mentioned my family before.

Yet for the life of me, I can’t think of a time when I would have opened up about anything.

Glancing away and clearing my throat, I push up from the bench.

“Doesn’t everyone have a mom?” I try to joke back, but even I can tell it falls flat. Luckily, Dominik and Landon come over and save me from the awkwardness.

“You heading back to the hotel too?” Landon asks me, shifting the strap of his bag up on his shoulder. I simply nod, unable to find the words now.

“Same. I’m exhausted,” Landon says without missing a beat and moves to my side. “You’d think by now I’d be used to hotel beds, but I swear, somehow Istillcan’t sleep unless I’m in my own bed.”

With a wave to the guys, Landon and I make our way across the locker room.

“Boo!” Dean calls out when we reach the door. “You guys are no fun.”

“Sorry not all of us have an endless supply of energy like you do, Squirrel,” Landon yells back over his shoulder.

Luckily, the bus ride back to the hotel is short and neither Landon nor any of the other guys who chose to turn in try to talk to me. Which is normally something I’ve always welcomed before. Only now, with all these damn revelations I’ve had recently, I suddenly feel like a shitty teammate. The guys don’t include me in their conversations because I’ve only ever shut them down when they have tried. The idea of small talk or “shooting the shit” never interested me before, so why the hell is it suddenly bothering me that they’re giving me the seclusion I used to crave?

By the time we make it to the hotel, I’ve spiraled so far into my mind that I’m absolutely dreading getting on the phone. At least I can count on my mom to be oblivious to my miserable mood, knowing she’ll likely ramble on and on about the latest drama at the golf club or whatever stupid thing my father did since we last spoke.

I just need to manage a hello, a few grunts of agreement, and a goodbye, then I can be left alone. That is until Dominik gets back from the bar since we room together during away games.

Checking the time as I enter the hotel, I bite back a groan when I realize I won’t have time to shower. I’d be surprised if I even manage to make itintomy room before she calls. I rinsed off in the locker room after the game. But I never quite feel clean enough until I can take my time and shower without a bunch of other naked dudes around me.

Once back at the hotel, I make an effort to at least acknowledge the guys who head toward the bar, ignoring their shocked expressions, and head up to my room. Luckily, Landon agreed to one drink with the team here before he turns in, so I have the elevator to myself. The doors have barely finished opening to my floor when my phone rings.

Biting back my sigh, I hit the accept button. “Hey, Ma.”

“That was a close game,” she says by way of greeting. It’s not something I take offense to. If anyone thinks that I hate small talk, they should meet Kelly Moreno. She always gets straight to the point.

“The Yetis are good,” I tell her while pressing my room key card to the sensor. Tonight’s game was close because both sides showed up to win. It’s that simple.

“Maybe if you hadn’t shortened your time on the ice, it wouldn’t have been such a tight game.”

I blink, dropping my bag in the corner of the room. “It was a seven-second difference from my last game.”

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