Page 91 of Slew Foot
“Yeah, well, after the mess with Logan, I promised myself I was never going to date a teammate.” He swallowed thickly.
“Mmm,” Crawford said, sounding skeptical. “Then you kinda suck at keeping your promises.”
Rafe laughed and then wanted to die a little bit because it was pretty bad if evenCrawfordhad noticed his and Mickey’s feelings for each other and was trying to be like, supportive or something.
In his own crass way.
Rusty patted him on the shoulder, letting go of his skate. “You’re all good, man.”
“Thanks.” Rafe gave him a grateful smile and shifted to sit on the bench.
They’d reset the play in Boston’s defensive zone. Logan immediately got kicked out of the faceoff and Rafe watched intently as Sammy Ochoa took his place.
Connor won the faceoff, but Minnesota got possession a few moments later. Mickey captured the puck, and the play swept behind Jesse’s net, Logan coming in hot too. They skated side by side for a split second, jostling each other’s shoulders again and Rafe watched in disbelief as Logan hooked his ankle around Mickey’s and leaned into his upper body, sending him to the ground. Logan crashed down too, their bodies tangled together.
The jolt threw Mickey back into the boards and horrified, Rafe watched his head bounce off them.
“Fuck!” he swore, rising to his feet.
A linesman blew his whistle to stop the play, kneeling down to check on Mickey who hadn’t moved yet. Maybe because Logan was still sprawled on top of him.
Hopefully. Rafe squeezed his hands into fists as tight as he could manage in gloves as Logan lay there for a second too before he rolled off Mickey and onto his back on the ice.
Mickey still wasn’t moving.
Rafe was over the boards before he knew it, too fast for his teammates to stop him, though he could hear Connor hollering at him and Coach Rasmussen bellowing something too.
Rafe skated across the ice and knelt down to check on Mickey. His eyes were open, thankfully, but he wasn’t focused on anything.
“Mickey!” Rafe said urgently. “Are you okay?”
Groaning, Mickey sat up, blinking and looking around. His gaze landed on Rafe and he frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“Shit, Logan rang his bell,” someone muttered behind them and Rafe rose to his feet, turning on his former teammate.
“Shut the fuck up, you asshole,” he shouted, shoving at Sammy’s chest because he couldn’t get to Logan, who had a ref kneeling next to him.
“What did I fuckin’ do?” Sammy asked.
A moment later Logan was on his feet too, arguing with a ref. “How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t fucking do it on purpose”
“You’ve been antagonizing Krause all night,” the ref scoffed, reaching for his elbow. “That was a clear slew foot. In the box.”
“I didn’t?—”
“I said, get in the box!” the ref said, louder this time.
He grabbed Logan’s upper arms and gave him a little shove toward the penalty box. Rafe glared at his ex as he skated by, and Logan looked at him helplessly.
“Rafe, I didn’t …”
Rafe clenched his jaw, ignoring Logan’s words and turning back to Mickey, relieved Logan was getting a penalty for his bullshit.
He knelt beside Mickey, frowning. “Seriously, are you okay?” Rafe asked.
“I’mfine,” Mickey protested, getting to his feet.
A big cheer rose from the crowd and Rafe felt relieved too. If a hit was bad enough the opposing teams were worried about a player, it wasbad.
