Page 40 of Devil on Skates
But the tension is still there and making every interaction a little charged.
He runs through the usual details about matchups, strategies, and tendencies. I catch the info, but part of my mind is somewhere else.
Ronan nudges me as we get ready for warm-ups. “You good? You seem off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, and for once it doesn’t feel like a lie.
Despite everything, there’s a strange clarity in all this—a sense of purpose beyond just playing the game.
“Your old man’s here,” Ronan says. “Saw him with some guy. Pretty serious looking.”
“Scout,” I confirm, keeping my tone steady.
Ronan whistles. “No big deal, huh? Just a game that could change your whole future.”
That should freak me out, but something about the past week with Irina has changed how I handle pressure. She made me realize there’s a difference between performing for others and doing what feels real.
“It’s just another game,” I say.
We hit the ice for warm-ups. The routine of skating and passing helps me focus, but my eyes keep drifting to the stands.
There’s Dad, sitting in the fancy seats, his face deadly serious. Next to him is the dark-haired man who’s probably the scout. And a few sections over, mostly hidden by the crowd, is Irina. She’s not watching the team. She’s watching me. I have tosquint in her direction, but I think she smiles softly. Her support means everything to me.
I only feel this calm because she’s here. Dad and the scout want me to perform for them. Irina just wants me to be me.
The game kicks off intense. Our opponent’s defense zeroes in on me, trying to shut me down. I dive into it, where hockey feels honest and uncomplicated, defined by the challenge, the strategy, and the rhythm of the game.
When our defenseman intercepts a pass and feeds me on a breakaway. I decide to shoot, spotting an opening just where I imagined. The puck slides in, and the red light flashes. Goal.
My teammates swarm me, but I look up for Irina. No showboating, just a quiet and private moment shared across the ice and the stands. I scored for myself, for the team, and for her. It wasn’t to impress, but to share something real.
The game gets tougher and more physical. The opponent’s frustration shows in rougher hits and trash talk.
Their center starts with a jab during a face-off. “I heard you’re the coach’s pet. What does that look like? Do you suck him off too?”
I don’t bite, focusing on the puck. This kind of talk is old news.
“What’s it like to share your girlfriend with Costello?” He grins. “She given you an STD yet? Her loose cu—”
Before I even think, I’m dropping my gloves and going after him. My punches land before the refs break us up. The rage that surges through me is so strong that I barely feel the sting on my knuckles. Anyone can say anything about me, but not about Irina.
My whole body is still shaking with fury as they haul me off the ice with a game misconduct. As I glance up, I see my dad’s face. It’s red from anger and probably embarrassment, and hisjaw is clenched so tightly his teeth must hurt. I can’t see Irina, but I hope she’s not worried about me.
As I sit alone in the locker room, I realize I might’ve thrown away years of work and any future chances, all because of a disgusting comment that was meant to provoke me. Suspension is likely, and Coach won’t be thrilled.
But I don’t regret it. Protecting Irina was worth it, and there’s no way I’m going to let some asshole say shit about her and get away with it.
As I shower and get dressed, many thoughts fly through my mind. Do I even want the future everyone expects? Or am I just following a path laid out by my dad? I definitely love hockey, especially the challenge and the rush of it, but I want it my way.
With Irina, not apart from her.
Today I’ve let everyone down. My dad, Coach, and my teammates. And right now, all I want to do is find Irina, hold her in my arms, and kiss her until I forget everything else.
She’s my home. My safe haven.
And if I ruined everything for her, so be it.
Chapter 21
