Page 18 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

Practice is nearly over, and, once again, Jayce takes the puck down the ice toward the goal like a dart headed for a bullseye. Except this isn’t a pub filled with a bunch of half-drunk hockey players burning off steam with a friendly game of cricket. Our first game is in two days, and this team still functions more like an autonomous group of testosterone sticks.

I’m on the opposing team for this scrimmage. So is Ethan, who gives me a knowing look. I lift my chin in agreement. We attempt to close in on Jayce, but he’s skating hard and gaining momentum. If hockey doesn’t work out for the guy, he could easily train to be a speed skater for the Olympics.

On my other side, Elias is wide open and has a clear shot to the net.

Does Jayce make the pass? No, he does not. It’s like he’s completely oblivious to anyone on the ice but himself. The kid may have the potential to be a great hockey player—hell, he’s already one of our best players—but he’s a lousy teammate.

Jayce pivots to the left, skating backward, then spins around and makes a slap shot, sending the puck into the air and over Wade’s shoulder into the net.

Jayce pumps his fists as he skates an arc behind the goal, escalating my simmering anger into a bomb about to ignite. One, the kid totally stole my move, and two, he’s still not getting the message about passing the puck to an open player for a sure shot.

When he reaches the other side of the net, I shove him against the glass, pinning him with my forearm.

His eyes go wide at first, then narrow as he spits out his mouth guard. “What the?—?”

“Next time, make the pass.”

“Why? I made the goal.” His voice cracks.

When he squirms, I press harder against his chest protector. He’s still a kid losing his baby fat, and I’ve got three inches and a good thirty pounds on him.

“You got lucky.” Not entirely true but not a lie either.

He sneers. “You think I didn’t see you and Ethan closing in?”

“You know what to expect because we’re teammates. Ever heard of that word, Jayce? Teammates? We work together. And unless you’ve studied every player on every opposing team, you can’t predict what they’re going to do.” With a last shove for emphasis, I let him go.

He glares at me while shifting his shoulders to get his pads back in place, then skates away.

Ethan glides over to me. “Think he’ll get it?”

I shake my head. “Not before our first game.”

He smacks my shoulder with his glove. “You’ll convince him, Cap.”

About half of the team has accepted my position now. Ethan, Wade, and Payton are starting to feel like friends, especially since we started a group text to discuss how the team’s doing overall.

As Ethan skates away, I catch Gabe’s wave from the players’ bench. I come to a stop in front of him, unsure if he’s going totell me to back off or praise me for dealing with our wild card. “Guess you saw what went down?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just the tail end. I was on a call with Tampa’s head coach.”

Tampa Bay Lightning is NHL. If he’s negotiating an affiliation… “Oh?”

Gabe gives me a pointed look. “I’m hopeful.”

Part of me—the pre-accident part—is elated. The other part doesn’t want to know. I wanted that once, to get moved up to the NHL. Now I’m not so sure. I’m still getting used to being on the ice again, and we haven’t even played our first game yet.

Gabe taps his finger on the top of the boards. “Keep working on Jayce. He has potential.”

“Lone candles burn out fast.”

He smirks. “I kind of recall dealing with one of those back in our Barracuda days.”

Of course, he would bring that up. “Yeah, you roughed me up a few times.”

“You needed it. As does Jayce.” He holds his hand up. “Not that I’m giving you permission to rough him up, but…” He pauses as his grin turns serious. “Great job, Luke. Keep it up.”

I still don’t get why Gabe thinks I can do this. Yeah, I handled Jayce today, but Ethan or Payton could have easily filled the role of captain. Maybe even better. Hell, even Wade could have reined the kid in with his wrangling skills.

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