Page 2 of Fresh Ice
If only things were so easy for Alonso. If only he could open up like that without the fear of being struck down and humiliated.
Gabby glanced over at Alonso as they both dressed after showering. “You okay, kid?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
Gabby had been captain of the Gotham Hounds for nine years, promoted to the position when he was 22. He’d been a second overall pick back in the day, right after the captain of the Brooklyn Cats, their direct competitors.
The rivalry between the two captains was legendary. Gabby had more than proved himself as an incredibly skilled player, but it had to sting that Orion, the Cats’ captain, had two Stanley Cups while Gabby had none.
Still, Alonso had always admired Gabby, what with both of them being from Alberta. Gabby’s family had been in Calgary for generations, his uncle also having played in the NHL, so Alonso could only imagine the shoes he had to fill.
Alonso nodded, wondering what expression was on his face for Gabby to ask him that. “Yeah,” he replied.
“Don’t worry so much. You’re doing good. The coach is impressed.”
Alonso tried not to blush. He wasn’t a child—he shouldn’t need reassurance. His dad would have admonished him ruthlessly if he knew the impression he was giving off.
“Thanks,” Alonso said quietly. He didn’t want to come across as star-struck, but…this wasGabriel McKennacomforting him.
It was difficult not to be in awe.
Alonso concentrated on fixing his expression and gathering his things. He was looking forward to getting some downtime alone to get his head together.
Levy, of course, had other plans.
“Olive, wait up.” Levy barrelled into his side as if he were a puppy too big for his paws, which was ridiculous. Levy had the typical hockey-guy stature, equipped with broad shoulders, long legs, and a barrel torso, dark skin glowing under the fluorescent lights.
Alonso grunted as he was jostled. He wasn’t only shorter than Levy but slimmer too—something else Alonso would have to work on if he would ever deserve to make the team. He appeared too delicate, what with his big brown eyes and pretty face, and couldn’t put on muscle as easily as some of the other guys.
Levy’s Alpha scent made Alonso’s nose twitch. He smelt…
Alonso shook his head internally. He shouldn’t be noticing things like that. The locker room was saturated with the stink of Alpha, something Alonso had gotten used to a long time ago.
“Hey, some of the guys are going out for lunch. Join us?” Levy asked.
Alonso knew he should accept the invitation. He needed to bond with the team, for the coaches to see him contributing positively to the locker-room dynamic.
The very idea of handling Levy’s energy, though, made his throat close up.
Alonso knew he was being weak, but he needed some peace and quiet.
“Sorry.” Alonso shook his head. “Busy.”
Levy opened his mouth, obviously ready to argue, but thankfully seemed to think better of it. “Okay. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, maybe next time.”
Alonso let out a slow breath as he escaped.
It’d be fine. Alonso would prove himself on the ice—he didn’t have to make friends to succeed.
**********
Alonso tried to stick to a routine.
He’d wake up early, have the healthiest breakfast he could at the hotel, and then head to the rink earlier than anybody else. He spent some time in the weight room, working out or talking to the trainer there. He’d chug a protein shake and scarf down a granola bar before training camp started, where he would give everything he had to excel in the drills and the mock games.
He tried to accept some of the offers for lunch, not talking much but at least showing his face. He’d nap, watch some tape of the Hounds from the previous season, and go to bed early.
Nobody could say he wasn’t trying his hardest.
