Page 8 of These Wicked Games
I should pity Knox, because he has to be around Andre’s scheming, backstabbing ass.
I get in line, skating to our goalie—not the one who played but the one who stepped in. We all line up and tap his helmet with the enthusiasm of an innocent man on death row. I almost laugh as Grey tries to avoid tapping Landon’s helmet. He really has to get over his sister Alyssa dating him. “Nuh-uh, big guy. Make nice.” I catch Grey’s shoulder, shoving him in Landon’s direction, and I think I see Landon shrink in on himself. I mean, this is kind of Grey’s fault. He invited his very gorgeous, very single sister to a team party. What did he think was going to happen? Grey gives him the tiniest head tap then skates off.
Shaking my head, I give him a one-handed hug. “It’s bad, Kuli,” Landon says as I knock his helmet.
“I think Grey’s warming up to you. He only sort of wants to dismember you now.”
Landon follows me off the ice. “I mean Rocky.” I loop my arm around him.
“It’ll be okay.” As the words leave me, I know I’m lying right to him.
The energy in the locker room is more of the same. All of us are happy we won, but none of us want to celebrate. I peel off my shirt and sit on the bench. Cool air clings to my bare skin. After a moment, Coach walks into the locker room with as much elation as the rest of us.
Coach Lafleur is a big man in his fifties. Back in the day he played for the Chesapeake Bay Hydras, before getting traded to the Oregon Otters where he played until retiring nearly fifteen years ago. He was vicious on the ice, and his coaching tactics are much like his game, both brutal and precise. We all respect him, and seeing him shaken like this is getting to me. “Any word?” I ask because I can’t take the silence.
“He’s breathing. Unconscious, but breathing,” he says quietly. “They won’t know until they get him in, but they’re thinking a neck fracture, possibly.”
Fuck. My first thought is Rocky’s wife. “Has anyone contacted Rebeka?” We’re thousands of miles away from home, and she has a newborn baby to worry about. I can’t imagine watching that live and not knowing what’s going on.
“We have. Don’t worry, Kuli,” Rod Singer, our assistant coach reassures me.
“What are we going to do?” Cameron Kadri one of our defensemen asks. “No offense to Landon, he’s great, but we need someone stronger if we’re going to make the playoffs this year.
“Ouch.” Landon shakes his head. “Thanks, Cam.”
I hate to admit or say this out loud, but he’s right. Landon isn’t bad, but Rocky is . . . well, a fucking rock on the ice. It’s how he got the nickname. He’s unmovable. With a .911 save percentage, he’s one of the best right now in the league.
This is a hit to us all, as selfish as that sounds.
“I’m going to figure it out,” Coach says. “We’ll think of something; don’t stress about it. It was a great game. You all played well.” His eyes land on me. “It would be nice if you could spend at least one game out of the sin bin, though.”
“Hey.” I throw my hands up. “Home sweet home.”
Coach shakes his head. “Get some rest, boys. Home game in three days, and uh, Oli—”
“What?” He gives me a look and I already know.Fuck. I thought I was in the clear. Nope. But I do appreciate Coach not announcing it to everyone. While most of my teammates know about my failed drug test back when I was on the Titans, it still embarrasses me. Grey and Atlas are my best friends and they know what happened between Andre and me. They believe me. I’ve explained the situation to Coach too, and I don’t know if he believes me, but I like to think he does.
With that he leaves us, and I can’t wait to get out of here—right after a stop to see our team doctor.Great. I just want to get out of here and go home. More and more I miss Oregon when I’m away from it. “We still going out?” Atlas asks, and I look up at him. He’s shorter than Grey and me by a few inches, and his thick black hair is matted to his head with sweat. His blue eyes feel electric by contrast. I can see the worry in his eyes as he scratches his beard. Atlas likes to pretend he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body,but tonight shook us all. He needs a distraction, and while the last thing I want to do right now is go out for drinks, I nod.
I look over at Grey coming out of the showers with a towel slung low on his trim waist. His blond hair is damp and I know he’s normally quiet, but the air of doom surrounding him is getting to me. “Grey?”
“Huh?” He looks back, his brown eyes ping-ponging back and forth between Atlas and me. “Really, tonight?”
“It’s tradition,” Atlas whines, throwing his arms around Grey’s shoulders and getting some of the cheer back in his voice. “Can’t break tradition, Wolfy.” Grey shrugs him off.
“It’s tradition,” I agree, then plead with him silently, subtly nodding my head in Atlas’s direction.Keep the child happy.Grey just shakes his head, taking off his towel and slipping on his briefs.
“Fine,” he says, and starts dressing. He doesn’t sound happy about it, but I know he’d give Atlas anything. While us three are the closest among our teammates, Grey has a soft spot for Atlas and gives him anything he wants like the spoiled brat he is. It’s like he thinks he can make up for all the trauma Atlas has experienced in his life with a gentle hand.
I look up at my friend, who’s eying Grey. “Get ready. We’re not waiting for you if you aren’t ready,” I lie. Fuck, I’m still sitting here in sweat-damp pants, but Atlas peels his eyes away from Grey, grabbing a towel. “I also have to take a piss test.” I roll my eyes. I hate how after all these years it still stings. “I’ll be quick.”
I have to shower still, but my feet won’t move. Grabbing his clothes, Atlas hurries to the showers, leaving Grey and me in silence. “This is bad, Oli,” he whispers. “That hit was brutal.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Well, if you stayed out of the penalty box long enough, you’d be able to see the whole game now and then,” he teases. “It was Ryker, but it wasn’t his fault. Rome body-checked him into Rocky.” Now that he mentions it, I haven’t seen him since we came into the locker room. Shit, I should probably find him. “His helmet got knocked off and the back of his head banged off the crease.” Grey shakes his head. “I’m going to be sick. I fucking heard it.”
I’m not sure what we’re going to do. All I want is to go see Rocky, but it’s late now and they’re providing medical care. My muscles and bones feel too big for my skin. Going out will be smart; I need a distraction. Which comes in the form of my six-foot-three defenseman sulking into the locker room. His eyes shine, making his heterochromia stand out more. One pale blue eye and one brown. “It’s not your fault, Kiki.”
