Page 99 of Blindside Me
Roman’s team.
After the last text he sent Jade, my skin feels too tight, like I’m barely holding something dangerous inside. I focus on the ritual, tape, smooth, repeat, while my teammates laugh and toss gear around like we’re here for fun, not war.
Blake chucks a roll of athletic tape at Ryan, who catches it one-handed without glancing up from his phone. They’re talking about some hanging at Barton’s after the game, but I tune it out. I can’t afford to let myself get distracted. Not tonight.
Coach Howell’s warning from Sunday echoes in my head: “Keep your head in the game, Klaas. I know you’ve got history with Beaulier, but I need you to play clean. One suspension, and you can kiss your spot on the team goodbye.”
He only knows half of it. He doesn’t know that Roman’s text to Jade last night wasn’t just trash talk. It was calculated.Manipulative. The kind of message that makes me want to drive my fist through a wall. Or through Roman’s face.
And that rage? That’s exactly what I have to keep locked down. I will not become my father or brother.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking about, push it aside.” Blake drops onto the bench beside me, fully geared up except for his helmet.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. You’ve been taping that stick for ten minutes.”
I glance down. He’s right. I’ve wrapped so much tape that the blade looks like a mummy.
“I’m good.” I rip the excess off with my teeth.
What isn’t good is the look Jade had after receiving Roman’s text. She tried playing it off, but I could tell he got to her. I don’t take well to people messing with my girl.
“You don’t look good.” Blake leans closer, lowering his voice. “You look like you’re gonna murder someone.”
I grunt, not trusting myself to speak. The less I say, the less chance I’ll admit how close to the truth he is.
“Keep your beef with Beaulier under control,” Blake continues, “leave it in the locker room. We need you focused.”
“I’m focused.” The words come out sharper than intended. I shove my water bottle into my bag with more force than necessary.
Blake holds his hands up. “Just checking. Captain’s duty and all that.”
The whistle blows. Coach Howell stands in the doorway, clipboard in hand, face set in its usual pre-game intensity.
“Let’s go, gentlemen! Ice in five!”
My teammates whoop and holler, slapping each other on pads as they file out. I stay behind a moment, closing my eyes and breathing in the familiar locker room smells. I needto contain this. Channel it. Play clean, play hard, and pretend Roman doesn’t exist.
Yeah. Right.
The ice is perfect tonight, fresh and fast. The first period starts with a clean face-off, and I immediately slip into the game’s rhythm. Skate, check, pass. My body knows what to do even when my mind wants to veer off course. I keep my head down and my plays simple. No risky moves. No fancy footwork. Just clean, physical hockey.
Between shifts, I scan the stands. Three rows up from the media section, Jade sits with her journal, blonde hair tucked behind her ears, and blue eyes locked on the ice. She catches my gaze and offers a tight smile. Something in my chest loosens just enough that I can breathe, at least until my next shift.
Roman hangs back during the first period. Smart. He knows I’m waiting for him. His team plays dirty, though, with cheap shots when the refs aren’t looking and sticks that somehow find their way between skates. I take it all, letting the little jabs fuel me without letting anything ignite.
The buzzer sounds. The first period ends 0-0.
I’m halfway to the bench during a line change when Roman’s voice slices through the buzz, just loud enough for me to hear.
“You like going after what’s mine, huh? She’s a nice piece of ass, isn’t she?”
My jaw clenches hard. I keep skating, one foot in front of the other. Don’t engage. Don’t even look.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he adds with a laugh.
I slide onto the bench, breathing hard. Ryan shoots me a concerned look, but I stare straight ahead at the ice. One. Two. Three. I count my breaths, forcing oxygen in, forcing the anger to simmer instead of boil.
