Page 17 of Daring the Defender

“He’s losing and he’s trying to get you to make a mistake.” He knocks my helmet. “There are 36 seconds left. Don’t let it happen.”

I take a deep breath, and steady myself. Jeff’s right. There are times I can let the frustration surrounding the game make me better. And other times, worse. I need to be the former. Ignoring Kramer’s stupid face, and the crowd’s jeers, I take my stick back from Kirby as he skates by, and I get in position for the puck drop.

Murphy wins it, knocking the biscuit back to Axel. Ax takes control, tracks Reese up the ice, and zings it toward him. From there, it’s a quick deke to the left and a backhanded shot: nothing but net. Kramer gets to skate off the ice with his tail between his legs and a big fat ‘L’ on the board.

“Great game, man,” Reese knocks his fist against mine on the way from the lockers to the showers. “That pass in the first period was a thing of beauty.”

“Yeah, they were tough.”

“Another one down,” Axel says, dropping his towel and reaching for his pants. “Which makes us one step closer to the finals.”

Reese gives him a grunt. After last season where we blew it in the championship, Reese doesn’t like to think too far ahead. Or at least he says that. I know for a fact he’s got his eye on the prize. And he should. The closer we get to the end of the season the more likely it is we’ll get a chance to play in the championship. Our team is on fire. Everyone is clicking.

I rub the towel over my hair, then change back into my suit.

“You look like a 1930s gangster in that suit,” Emerson says.

I flip up the collar of my white shirt and lay it over the suit. “Thank you.”

“You’re so weird,” Murphy adds. He’s in a standard gray suit that’s nice enough, but I’m pretty sure his mom bought it for him after he learned about Coach Bryant’s before and after game dress code. He looks nice. My goal is to look remarkable.

I’ve always been into clothes. I think it goes back to moving from house to house and having to leave my belongings behind more times than I like to remember. Once things stabilized, I started being more specific in my choices. Clothing isn’t just something I wear. It’s a collection.

“I think you look good,” Axel says. “Not many people could pull off a brown suit.”

My roommate is covered in tattoos and piercings. His white blonde hair that he bleaches twice a month always looks like he just got out of a fight with an actual badger. Of course he favors individualism.

“You guys hurry up. I want to get back before it’s too late.” Reese throws his bag over his shoulder and walks out of the locker room, but then pops his head back in a second later. “Hey, Reid, you’ve got a visitor.”

It’s idiotic that my first thought is about Darla, but that evaporates as soon as I think it. I tie my shoe, grab my things, and head out the door. My ‘visitor’ is my dad and younger sister, Veronica.

“Hey,” I say, walking over. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“We didn’t either,” Dad grins, “but Ronnie and I decided to hop in the car and surprise you.”

Ronnie is fourteen and the youngest of the Wilder kids. She’s wearing a Wittmore Hockey jersey, my jersey, the number eight on the sleeve. I lean in and give her a quick hug. “You didn’t have to make the drive.”

“Nonsense, you know we love watching you play.” Dad beams at me. “And you had a great game.”

“Eh, just doing what they pay me for.”

Dad shakes his head, and I know he thinks I downplay my skills. I know I’m a good player. I’m a kickass beast on the ice, but when it comes to Darryl Wilder I never feel like I measure up. How can I?

“I thought you were going to get in a fight with number seventeen,” Ronnie says. “You dropped your stick, but freaking Jefferson had to pull you back.”

“Yeah, good thing or I would’ve ended up in the bin. That was just blowing off a little steam.” I laugh at her frown. “Sorry to disappoint your thirst for blood.”

“I know you’ve got to get on the bus,” Dad says, “but I wanted to make sure we saw you. Everything going okay?”

“Everything’s good.” I give him a quick run through of my classes and what we’re expecting with the next few games. I keep any mention of Darla or my subsequent slide into Wittmore party boy out of it. My family loved her and everyone was disappointed when we broke up. Like me, they thought she was end game material. “Oh,” I say, trying to think of something PG, “we’ve got a houseguest at the Manor. Axel’s sister.”

“Hey!” Ronnie sets her hands on her hips. “How come his sister gets to come for a visit and I don’t?”

“Because she’s over eighteen and doesn’t need full-time supervision.” I bop her on the nose, simply because I know shehates it. Sure enough, she scowls. “It’s just for a few weeks. She’s going through something back home and needed a place to crash.”

“Oh, well, I hope she finds some peace, although I think it would be hard in a house full of hockey players.” Dad gives me a look. “Treat her like you would your sister.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “We already got the big brother speech from Axel.”

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