Page 134 of Slew Foot
Then thought, Hmm. I wonder what we’d be called? Mickefe? Krauoon?
No, trying to combine their names soundedweird. So just Mickey and Rafe then. Or Mouse and Turtle.
The thought made Rafe smile. Yeah, they were Mouse and Turtle. He liked that.
“You worry about Mickey and leave theHarriersto me,” Gavin said firmly. “We’re in a tough spot, there’s no doubt about that, but that doesn’t mean it’soveryet. I like some of the changes I see. There’s a closeness there that didn’t exist at the beginning of the season. I like the locker room dynamics I see. I like the hustle from all of you at every practice. With a bit of luck, Mickey will recover soon, and we’ll be able to make a final push. I don’t know how far that’ll get us, but hopefully we’ll have a shot at getting into the playoffs.”
“You think so?” Rafe asked hopefully.
“All we can do is try,” Gavin said, his tone firm. “And together, I think we have the tools to personally and professionally support the guy you love. Are you in?”
“I’m in,” Rafe promised him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The halls of HCI were quiet when Mickey left Dakota’s studio that same day.
He was only a little dizzy and although he could hear some faint ringing, it wasn’t as bad as it had been when he arrived earlier.
He found himself wandering slowly, taking in the familiar red, orange, yellow, black accent colors and the fierce hawk head logo. He should go home. He knew Rafe was probably waiting there and he knew they should talk more.
He also knew he’d been kind of a dick to Rafe this morning. He hadn’t meant to be. He just couldn’t always stop the frustration from seeping out. And it was hard to think straight, tofocus, totalkwhen his head felt like this. It was like he was perpetually off-balance, teetering on the edge of plummeting over some invisible cliff.
It wasn’t until a sharp metallic ozone tang and cool air hit his nose that he realized his wanderings had brought him to the main practice rink.
No one was skating now, but the ice resurfacer must have finished its work recently because the ice was glossy and perfect. Mickey curled his hands into fists as he approached the boards, overwhelmed by the sudden wave of emotion that hit him at the sight. At how badly he wanted to be out there.
Most of the ice was ringed with plexiglass to protect the staff and the spectators during public practices, but he slipped into the rarely used bench area and took a seat.
Without his gear, without his skates, he felt small. Like he had as a young child when his feet dangled, not quite touching the floor.
Hemissedskating.
It had been bad when he was out with his groin injury but at least he’d been able to hang out in the locker room and joke around with his teammates.
Now, he ached with the loss.
He missed Jesse and Tanner and the way they lifted the mood. He missed Tanner’s weird but effective playlists. He missed Arkady rhapsodizing about his girlfriend and how he was the luckiest man ever.
Hell, he even missed Crawford walking around naked, snapping guys with towels and chirping them and generally being a dick to everyone.
Now, Mickey would give anything to hear the stupid jokes he fired off. He suddenly thought of one Crawford had aimed at him shortly after he joined the team.
How many Germans does it take to change a light bulb?
When Mickey shrugged and said he didn’t know, Crawford answered,Just one. The Germans are a very efficient and humorless people.
It was stupid stereotypical crap, probably something he’d found online, but Mickey had laughed at it anyway. Crawford had seemed pleased by Mickey’s response, like he’d passed some test or mild hazing ritual or something, thwacking him playfully with a discarded pair of boxer briefs until Mickey had briefly considered tackling him to the carpet to get him to stop.
He’d weighed the satisfaction of taking him by surprise against the chances of ending up pinned on the floor by a large, sweaty, naked man who he wasn’t atallattracted to and decided no, that was definitelynotworth it.
But it had made Mickey feel like he belonged. That he was a Harrier. So, the hazing had worked.
Crawford was annoying as hell, but he was part of this team and goddamn it, Mickey ached being away from every one of them.
Theyneededhim right now. And he needed them.
The ice in front of him blurred for a moment, and he swayed a little on the bench, exhausted and dizzy and desperate for this nightmare to be over.
