Page 8 of Gloves Off

A few of them catcall and I laugh, read out the name on the back of the jersey and toss it to the smiling player. I don’t think I’m supposed to saybitcharound them, but whatever. They go to high school, they’ve heard much worse.

“I want you to remember that with hard work and passion, you can do anything.”

Another cheer. I toss another jersey.

“You are gritty, you are relentless, you are smart and fierce, and no one can hold you back from doing what you love.”

They cheer again, and once everyone has their jersey on, we warm up and do their prescribed physio exercises before they scrimmage. With their brand-new jerseys, the girls want to play hard, but I encourage them to slow down, take it easy, and focus on their technical skills.

Thisis why the program matters. A lot of these girls were on track to play for universities around the world on full scholarships. Some of them could go pro. They can still have those things, with proper recovery and attention.

If the program gets cut, the Vancouver Devils go with it. Motivation surges through me. Like hell I’m going to let that happen.

I’m going to find a way to save the program.

CHAPTER 4

ALEXEI

Before the game that night,I wait in the arena concourse with the other players, shifting back and forth on my skates to stay warmed up. Energy buzzes throughout the building, fans roaring as the lights go down and the music starts.

The other players talk in low voices, some staring at the floor, deep in concentration and head already in the game, and some staying warm like I am.

I should be focusing on the game and what we practiced this morning, but instead, I’m thinking about my citizenship problem.

“Vancouver Storm nation,”the announcer calls,“welcome back for the season opener!”

The crowd roars again, raring to go. Fans have been waiting for this since the end of last season, when we were eliminated from the third round of playoffs, the furthest this team has gone in the Stanley Cup playoffs in almost a decade.

In front of me, Hayden Owens, my old defensive partner, gives me his typical beaming smile. “Admit it, Volkov. It’s good to be back.”

I make a low noise of acknowledgment. It’severythingto be back. With eighty-two games in the regular season, our schedule is grueling and packed—but I spent all summer bored and itching to play with my team again.

Physically, I feel good tonight. My shoulder doesn’t hurt. MyACL feels okay. I’ve been following a strict low-inflammation diet, training hard, resting hard, and doing everything I can to play my best this season.

Mentally, I’m back in Ward’s office. In this game, everything can end in the blink of an eye. I need to figure something out, fast.

In the arena, the announcer lists team staff, the trainers, and the physios.

“Hazel Hartley,”he announces, and Rory Miller, the Storm’s captain, cups his hands to his mouth.

“That’s my girl!” he yells down the hall toward the arena. His fiancée, Hazel, is a physiotherapist with the Storm, probably standing at the bench with the other staff. Off my flat look, Miller grins, ear to ear, patting his chest over his heart. “It doesn’t matter that she can’t hear me. She canfeelmy support.”

“Darcy Andersen,”the announcer calls, now listing off the team analysts, and Owens claps his gloves together with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, Darce,” he hollers. “Go get ’em, tiger!”

“Jesus Christ.” These fucking guys and their relationships. “Control yourselves.”

Miller elbows Owens. “You ready to pop the question?”

After practice this morning, Owens showed us the engagement ring he had made for Darcy. The two were best friends for years until last season, when she convinced Owens to be her wingman as she started dating again.

That didn’t last long.

Owens grins. “Not yet. I’m enjoying messing with her too much. Soon, though.”

Again, I think about what Ward said.Too bad you aren’t married to a Canadian.

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