Page 88 of Slew Foot
Also, because he had routines and shit.
Rafe went through those on autopilot, with half his brain thinking about what Mickey said, the other half watching out for where Logan was so he could conveniently be nowhere near there.
He caught a glimpse of hurt on Logan’s face a couple of times and thought,good, but then immediately felt guilty about it. Logan didn’t deserve that.
Probably.
Rafe did catch the eye of a couple of other guys who came up to the red line and said hi, thwacking his shin pad or stick in greeting and saying it was good to see him.
Rafe shot the shit with them for a few minutes, nodding when they said it seemed like he’d found his place in Boston.
“Yeah,” he said with a smile, “I think I have.”
And then Mickey was there, crowding close, clearly checking in on him to be sure he was okay.
And Rafe felt this dizzy sort of gratitude for Mickey and how wonderful he was.
When they left the ice a few minutes later, Rafe felt a little more centered. He sat in his stall, laughing at Tanner and the flurry of chirping their opponents and helping get people fired up that he’d started doing.
“And we’re gonna go out there and make those dudes feel like idiots for ever letting go of Rafe!” he hollered at the end.
And Rafe laughed, grinning at Mickey because Mickey had been right.
This was histeam.
Minnesota scored on them less than a minute into the game.
It was a flukey bounce off the goalpost, with little that either Mickey or even Jesse could have done about it.
But Mickey was pissed, because the goal had come from Logan Walker. Ofcourseit had.
Mickey cursed and Walker smiled at him, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
A ref side-eyed them, like he was afraid they were going to break out in fisticuffs, so Mickey switched to cursing in German.
Then he wouldn’t know Mickey had told Logan Walker, “Leck mich am Arsch!” or, basically, to lick his ass.
Rafe bumped against Mickey, knocking their shoulders together and smiling down at him for no apparent reason. And oh, wasn’t that smile absolutely devastating? So was the little curl escaping Rafe’s helmet and how big he seemed, looming over Mickey right now.
Mickey could hardly breathe.
“Looking good, Moon Pie!” Logan Walker called out as he skated away, breaking them from their little moment.
Mickey let out a snarl and half-turned like he was going to go after him, and it didn’t hit him how ridiculous he was acting until Rafe was right there, bumping into him again and herding him toward the Harriers bench. Not allowing him to go after Walker.
“I thought you were going to have to be the one holdingmeback,” Rafe teased. “And here you are looking like you want to go after him.”
“Moon Pie,” Mickey muttered disparagingly under his breath.
“You know, I always hated that nickname.” Rafe made a face as Kady swung the bench door open for them. Rafe stepped up, sliding down the bench and looking up at Mickey.
Someone bumped him from behind. “Get off the fuckin’ ice, Krause,” Connor grumbled.
Mickey stumbled forward, sliding onto the bench beside Rafe as his captain squished in beside him.
“You okay, Mouse?” Connor asked with a frown, bumping the back of his knuckles against Mickey’s thigh.
Mickey looked at him in surprise. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
