Page 6 of Puck You Very Much

Dax Temple Is a Godsend.

That’s what the newspapers printed after his second week with the L.A. Hawks. Dax Temple—a blessing from heaven, exactly what the Hawks had been lacking, the man who would lead them to new glory.

Dax Temple—Demon on the Ice.

…They printedthatafter his fourth week because Dax was too aggressive on the ice. He’d shed his gloves and gone for the throat of an opponent too often to be mentioned in the same breath as God.

Then Dax met Jack “The Saint” West on the ice for the second time—a few months after that first catastrophic match that still haunted his nightmares to this day—and “demon” was quickly dropped as an analogy, replaced by “devil.”

Dax Devil. The name spread faster than a sexually transmitted infection during spring break. The press couldn’t have been happier. They made millions off theDevil vs. Saintheadlines.

Dax had never appreciated the nickname. He knew what hell was like and he had no desire to ever go back, not even in name alone. But it wasn’t worth fighting, because the fans loved that shit. The sports news loved that shit. The internet loved that shit.

Nobody cared that Dax was incredibly annoyed by that shit. Fans reveled in the rivalry between the two players. Some were convinced that Dax was terribly resentful and had never gotten over his pride being wounded in that first game. However, most suspected that rivalry continued because the two had finally found an equal in one another, reminding each that he wasn’t invincible. No one wanted to hear that, especially not a professional hockey player approaching thirty.

The Hawks’ PR team said that Dax, of course, didn’t really hate the opposing player, it was simply a harmless rivalry that spurred them on to do their best on the ice.

But the PR team lied.

Because Dax hated Jack with a fervor that would have made the devil proud. And the reason for it had absolutely nothing to do with ice hockey. But no one knew that, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone. Nor was Jack. Probably because he knew Dax would kill him if he opened his mouth. Or because the only thing they had in common was the desire not to see their past printed on the front page of a tabloid.

Dax didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything that concerned Jack West as long as he received the occasional opportunity to kick his ass on the ice.

At least, it had been that way for ten years.

Until now.

“…And we are pleased to welcome Jack West to our team, starting next week! I am certain he will be a good addition to our squad. Everyone in the Hawks organization is happy about it.”

“Oh shit,” Matt Payne said loudly, dropping the helmet he had just pulled off his head.

“What?” Leon Alvarez, their best defenseman, shouted, rubbing his hair dry and staring dumbfounded at their coach, Parker Gray, who had just delivered the good news. “You can’t be serious, boss!”

“Okay, calm down,” Austin Fox intervened. The team captain saw it as his job to keep the peace, whether on the ice, in the locker room, or at the poker table.

At the wordscalm down, all his teammates in the locker room turned to Dax. He wasn’t surprised. Everyone here knew what he thought of Jack West, just as everyone knew he wasn’t known for staying calm.

Today, however, he made an exception. Today he said nothing. Today, he just stared stonily ahead, his lips pressed together, his hands on his knees. Oh, under normal circumstances he would have freaked out. If he wanted to, he could be the biggest asshole in the entire organization—as an annoying, curvy redhead had recently noted. It’s just that Coach Gray’s ‘news’ wasn’t news to him. He had known for three months that a trade was being discussed. And he had conscientiously used the time to suffocate his anger with brutal workouts in the gym, to drown his frustration in expensive scotch, to forget his worries in the warm beds of strange women. He wasn’t necessarily proud of the last few months, but he had needed all that to prepare for this precise moment. He needed to maintain his composure without letting on what this information was truly doing to him.

That’s because, although he hated that West still held such sway over him, he would hate it even more if others knew the depth of his response—most of all his team, who had been his family for years.

“Guys,” Parker Gray called out loudly and everyone reluctantly returned their attention to him. “I know this comes as a surprise, but we can use another fantastic center. No offense, Fox.” He nodded to the captain. “And you all know West is the damn best; after all, you’ve lost to him often enough. So, pull yourselves together. I’m sure West will be a great addition to the team. And we’ve just got to use the next few weeks right, before the first game.”

Again, all eyes landed on Dax, as if everyone were waiting for his permission to like West. Matt even tentatively placed a hand on his arm as if he sensed that Dax needed emotional support. Dax continued ignoring the room. He had enough to do, trying to force down the heat building in his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous! He was better than this. Better than his damn emotions and anger. The ice had always been the one place in his life where he could find peace and calm, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let West ruin that.

“The PR team is busy preparing for the press conference, when the trade will be announced,” Gray continued, but Dax was no longer listening.

God, it sucked. It was so incredibly shitty. He would no longer be able to avoid West. He would be forced to have interactions with him, have to sit with him on the same plane, bus, in the locker room…

“Dude, why aren’t you freaking out?” Matt muttered to him, nudging him with his shoulder.

“I already knew,” he replied tonelessly.

“How? From whom? Nobody knows that stuff until Gray tells us!”

He merely shrugged and refrained from replying. Matt had been his best friend for seven years. They had joined the Hawks in the same season and gone through the same rookie rituals together: supporting each other after brutal training sessions and heartbreaking defeats and sharing their insecurities as well as their triumphs. Dax had been there for Matt when his grandfather, who had taught him to ice skate, died unexpectedly a few years ago. Matt hadn’t revealed to anyone that the reason Dax had sprained his wrist wasn’t because of intense practice on the ice, but rather because he’d tripped over his own doorstep. And completely sober, too—which was more embarrassing. But not even Matt knew why Dax was truly mad at West.

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