Page 22 of The Prince and the Puck
“Well, I should go.”
I followed her to the door of my room. As she opened it, I stepped in front of her for a second, wanting to keep her just for a moment.
“Don’t forget to let me know,” I told her.
“Let you know what?”
“Whether your room has the same high-end fabrics and appointments as mine does.”
Lizzy grinned at me and then turned and walked toward the elevators.
I wished that I could go with her. Wished that we could be something more than friends. Wished... I didn’t know exactly what.
The next morning, we had a quick practice, lunch as a team, and then headed to the arena for the game.
Lizzy stayed mostly in the background, but I did see her asking some of the guys questions and recording things on her phone. I hoped she was finding a solid idea for the movie.
Joey, John Samuels’s fiancée, had come along on the trip too. I had noticed her and Lizzy talking a bit on the plane and hoped that would make things more comfortable for Lizzy—having a friend. As we took the ice at the Viking’s arena, I spotted them sitting together, their heads close as the Wombats were called out. And I watched her face as they announced my name, a little thrill spiking inside me as she shot a fist into the air and cheered for me.
Of course, no amount of cheering could fix the mess I made out there. I had the puck on my stick with twenty seconds left, a clean shot to tie it up, and I sent it right into the goalie’s crest like a damn warm-up drill. Then I got caught deep on the backcheck, left my guy wide open, and watched—helpless—as he buried the empty-netter to seal the loss. Just like that, game over.
I avoided looking up at Lizzy and Joey as I skated off the ice, and I was betting Samuels wasn’t too excited about Coach’s take on the final play either, since it had lost us the game. It was my fault, not John’s, but that wouldn’t stop him beating himself up over letting that one through.
“Hey,” Corny said, moving up to my side in the locker room where I was busily avoiding all eye contact and beating myself up. “Coulda happened to anyone.”
“Thanks.”
His words didn’t make me feel better. If anything, they just made me feel shittier. These guys were my teammates, my brothers. But I guess that was what I did—let my brothers down.
As we gathered in front of the hotel that night to load the bus and head back to the airport, I was doing my best to halt the constant replay going in my mind. I’d been avoiding Lizzy too, though I wasn’t sure exactly why. Maybe I just didn’t want her to have to hide her disappointment at my playing.
I’d just stowed my stuff under the bus, when my stomach gave a groan. I glanced around, seeing that we’d be loading up for at least another ten minutes.
“Hey,” I told Derek Reed. “I’m gonna run to the convenience store I saw on the next block. Be right back.”
Derek looked around, probably for the coach. “You better be fast,” he told me.
My usually snarky retort was unavailable. I couldn’t even make jokes about being speedy and reliable at that moment. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let the bus leave.”
“Dude…”
I turned, heading in the direction I’d seen the shop, and half jogged to the convenience store. It turned out to be more like six blocks instead of one, but I figured I had time to grab a chocolate milk and a bag of Raisinets.
As I ducked through the door, I had a weird feeling like someone was following me, a feeling that didn’t get better when I spotted two burly dudes dressed mostly in black stepping through the door right behind me. I headed to one side of the store, seeking out the milk, but I could feel the guys in the store behind me, like their attention was trained on me.
I pulled the milk out and spun, only to find one of the guys standing directly behind me. I nearly ran right into him as I moved toward the candy aisle.
“Sorry, dude,” I muttered. Seriously, what was his deal?
As I searched for the Raisinets, the guy stepped into the narrow aisle to one side of me while his buddy came in from the other direction. Big guy number one had a scar running along one cheek, though I was doing my best not to stare. He moved close—a little closer than I thought was necessary for a fellow candy-lover, and I stepped to the other side, practically running into big guy number two.
“You guys big sugar fiends too?” I asked, wishing they’d back up a bit.
Big guy number one lifted one side of his lips in what might have been a smile but looked more like a snarl, revealing that he was missing a few teeth.
“You play hockey, man?” Maybe these were just fans, looking for an autograph? People got weird when they met their sports idols.
“No,” he growled, his hand moving to his belt in a way that set the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
