Page 24 of Power Play Pursuit

I exhale slowly, and she squeezes my hand. “Please.”

I stay silent, focusing on her touch.

“Besides,” she adds, “I kicked him in the nuts, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back for seconds.”

That almost makes me smile. My girl.

She looks down at our hands, still clasped together. Then, she clears her throat before slipping her hand away. “Just promise me you won’t go and find him, okay?”

I swallow hard before grabbing my cup of coffee. “I’d better get to practice.”

“James, promise me,” she begs me again, her eyes earnest.

I release a sigh. “Fine. I won’t.”

Her shoulders sag in relief, and I get out of the shop, my blood still simmering.

I don’t need to go and find that bastard. We’re playing them tonight.

I work myself extra hard during conditioning, not leaving a single muscle unprepared. I start with my upper body, then do some leg presses before we all skate onto the ice for practice.

“All right, let’s do some one-on-one drills,” Coach Martin bellows, and we all get into position. I’m up against Miles, and Hawthorne takes on Johnson.

“We got this, bro,” Hawthorne says, bumping my fist.

We start the play, and I go hard at it.

As I skate back, I’m a little out of breath.

“What’s up, dude?” Miles says. “That was intense.”

I shrug. “Just making the play.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice Miles and Hawthorne exchanging a look, but I keep my eyes ahead as I skate to the bench to grab some water.

“That was great, Adler,” Coach calls out, clasping his hands together before addressing the rest of the team. “That’s what I want to see. Be hungry for the puck, gentlemen. Good job,” he adds again, slapping my back as I return to center ice. “Let’s go again. You can sit this one out, Adler. Lap around, and Beaumont will take your spot.”

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good to go again.”

He frowns slightly, then nods. “Okay, one more time, then.”

We skate back into position, and Hawthorne glances at me. “Are you all right, man?”

I don’t reply, instead carving my skates into the ice the second Coach blows the whistle.

After a few more rounds, we finish the on-ice training and walk back to the locker room, but Hawthorne, Beaumont, and Miles won’t stop pestering me.

“You’re sure you’re okay, bro?” Miles prods, and I sigh.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys? I’m great.”

“You don’t seem great,” Hawthorne says, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, dude,” Beaumont chimes in, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t even brag after that play back there. That’s not normal.”

I scoff. “It’s just practice. Who cares?”

They all burst into laughter. “Um, excuse me?” Hawthorne says, arching an eyebrow. “You’re always the first to rub it in our faces when you outperform us at practice.”

---