Page 43 of Goalie Interference

“Why?”

“Because of the injury. It hurt and could injure me again.” I waited while he worked through that. “I did the same things—my stick, my gear, my skating. And it didn’t help. I tried different things. Nothing worked. So I stopped.”

He was blinking fast, like his brain was racing and he suspected I was blaspheming.

“I don’t judge anyone.” More blinking. “You keep doing what you want.”

“Tattoo?”

It took me a minute to understand he was referring to mine. I looked over my shoulder, where most of my back was covered up. “Yeah?”

“Good luck?”

I snorted. “No. Bad luck.” Pride going before the fall.

He looked down, then back at me. Then he grabbed his medal again, kissed it, and stood. Stomped the mat three times and left. He’d probably avoid me from now on because of my bad juju.

I followed him out, warmed up, and once the anthem was done and the game started, I settled into my stance without skating around the net, tapping the posts, or any other superstitious moves. I hoped the game went well or Lappy would be sure I was bad luck. Plus, with so few starts I didn’t have many chances to prove my skills were still sharp so I could entice a team to sign me next year.

I let in the first shot on net.Fuck. It wasn’t like I expected every game would be a shutout, but it was a blow to my confidence just the same. I did my best to shake it off and focus on the next shot. I let another one in. The team got one back, so we were only down a goal at the end of the first, but I felt it was all on me.

Lappy stayed as far away from me as he could.

My teammates all skated by to encourage me as the second period started. Viggy scored to tie it up at the beginning of the second. Then we went ahead one, but another one slipped past me to leave us tied after two periods.

Three goals wasn’t the end of the world, but I’d only faced eighteen shots. The mood in the locker room was tense. We returned to the ice for the third period. The teams traded goals, and I tried to clear my mind. Fortunately, our forwards were clicking. They scored just before the end of regulation, so we had the win. The guys congratulated me but I wasn’t happy. This wasn’t the consistent play I wanted to show.

“It’s a win, Remy,” Hanny said. “Take it. The next game is a fresh slate.”

Lappy continued to keep his distance from me, and I was pretty sure he thought the high goal count was because of my refusal to be quirky. Or my tattoo. I wasn’t going to have much chance to help him the way the coaches wanted me to in that case.

The team headed out on a two-game road trip and I was left behind. It was disappointing, but anything could happen and I needed to maintain my cardio and muscle mass and flexibility. We did some shooting practice, me and the skaters who’d also been left behind, and after lunch I headed back to the carriage house with nothing to do.

I brought Beast home from the doggy day care and stopped at the workshop door instead of heading up to the apartment. I heard the sound of a machine running—maybe a planer? I rapped on the doorframe.

Sophie was wearing headphones while she worked. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She’d had it down the night Beast and Goober had their face-off, or whatever the hell that had been. I’d been able to see the waves where it fell around her shoulders, a dark chestnut with some red highlights. Ithad made her look softer. Now she had it covered with a handkerchief, protecting it from the dust I could see in the air.

She had her back to the door, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The jeans weren’t tight, and neither was the T-shirt. She was slender, but surprisingly strong as she worked. I enjoyed watching her—the concentration, the skill, and a body that looked good even in her work clothes.

Yes, Sophie was attractive, but she was Otts’s ex. She had been kind, but I was a stranger and he was her ex-husband, her friend, her brother’s best friend. There was no doubt where her priorities would lie, and nothing was going to happen between us, despite what I might be tempted by. But maybe we could be friendly. Without the team here, I had no one I knew in the city. It would be nice to talk to someone, even if it was just about Beast and Goober.

Speaking of which, the cat slunk in the door past Beast, who growled. The cat jumped on a workbench and Sophie stopped the machine.

She pulled down her headphones. “What’s up, Goober?”

I cleared my throat and she jumped, turning around. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked, but…”

Her body relaxed. “That’s fine. I get a little absorbed when I’m working.”

“You’d need to, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded but her eyes flicked from Beast to Goober. Beast was sitting beside me, leash taut, eyes on Goober, occasionally growling but in a halfhearted, obligatory way.

“They’re not fighting?”

I looked at my dog. “I think he’s trying to keep up appearances, but the cat passed by us to get in there and he didn’t lunge. Normally he’d almost rip my arm off.”

A smile quirked up the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know what they’re doing and I don’t trust it to last, but I’m grateful they’re not fighting.”

---