Page 26 of Absolutely Not in Love
Eli drops his hands on my shoulders, giving them a friendly shake. “How are you feeling, man?”
“In the zone.”
Eli smiles and brushes his blond hair out of his eyes. “Like always.” He pounds the top of my shoulder pads. “Hey, how’s your neighbor?”
I pause, my gaze narrowing. “Gracie?”
“Yeah, man. I think I’m starting to wear her down. She’ll be having dinner with me before the end of the month.”
My jaw clenches, and I rub a hand across my beard. “I highly doubt that.”
Eli’s eyes widen, then he grins. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re making a move yourself.” He holds his hands up and backs up a few steps. “I can respect that.”
I don’t know if I’m making a move, exactly, but Gracie has been on my mind almost nonstop since last night. I was even distracted falling asleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about whether she had enough water to drink before she went to bed to avoid feeling hungover this morning.
“Oh, by the way,” Eli adds, “Alec wanted me to tell you he volunteered you for two more skills clinics with the youth league next month.”
“Two?”
“Yeah, man. Captain’s orders. One just for goalies, then a second one next month for the younger kids. He knew you’d say yes.”
“Because you’re a sucker,” Van says as he walks by, tape and hockey stick in hand.
I wouldn’t say I’m asucker,but Eli’s right about me saying yes. I usually do.
My therapist tells me my desire to please is slightly hyperactive—something that probably traces back to wanting to impress a perpetually unimpressed father.
Is it such a bad thing? That I’m always doing stuff to make other people’s lives easier?
As far as I see it, there are worse ways to cope with family dysfunction.
When it comes to the hockey team, saying yes to things like youth skills clinics isn’t required. But it does earn me brownie points with our social media manager. She’s always doing promo videos for TikTok, many of which require dancing, and I’d rather not be front and center for those.
Parker would never force me, or anyone else, into the spotlight, but it doesn’t feel right to stay in the background while the rest of the guys do the chicken dance across the ice. In my mind, all the extra volunteering at least helps balance things out.
“You good with it?” Alec says as he passes me.
I nod, picking up my stick and following behind him. “You know I am.”
Minutes later, the crowd roars as we take the ice. It feels good to be back in front of an audience, their enthusiasm making the room vibrate with energy. At first, I let myself listen—the swish of our skates as we warm up, the clatter of sticks, the cheering of the crowd as they pound on the glass.
But once I’m in the net and the puck drops, all background noise fades away. It’s just me and the game and my determination to stop every single shot. My pregame mantra runs through my head and settles me into the zone.
I’m steady. I’m focused. No one controls me but me.
I make eye contact with Logan as he skates by to take his position, and he grins.
Then we’re on.
The guys are good to me, playing killer defense, but by the end of the second period, the other team still hasn’t scored, and I’ve got a near-record number of saves for one game. Logan is on fire tonight, the rest of the guys, too, and their energy makes it easy for me to keep up the pace for one more period.
The last shot I block, I catch with my glove, and it hits hard. I’ll probably have a bruise, but when the game-ending buzzer sounds seconds later, I don’t give my hand a second thought.
We won.
And it was a total shutout.
We’re all cheering and celebrating the win when I see Logan a few yards away, looking into the stands, his eyes trained on Parker.
