Page 70 of Patiently Yours
Rory asks a few more questions about their fraternity, but I can’t stop staring at Atlas and the way he demands respect from his teammates; I’ve noticed several of them seek out his advice right before a new play. It’s so different to watch him inhis element in person. Not to mention, I can feel his dominance from here; the passion he bears for this game is evident in every action and move he takes. It’s insanely attractive.
I’m never going to miss another game again.
Not to mention the absolute joy on his face after receiving what Ciro called a ‘hat trick.’ Apparently it’s a big deal, which was evident by the way the arena erupted in cheers. The energy was high, and I could easily see how someone could fall in love with it.
Suddenly, I’m brought out of my thoughts by the heightened noise around us as people start to stand and shout down at the ice. I widen my eyes and look to Ciro, who looks just as confused. We all stand to peer over the heads in front of us so we can see what the commotion is all about.
Then we see it. Two men on our own team seem to be tucked in a heated argument. Atlas skates over in a hurry.
“Holy shit,” Ciro says as he pulls me closer into him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
It takes me a second to understand what’s happening, but then I see the number 4, with Kirkpatrick on the back of the jersey.
Derek Kirkpatrick.
He grabs his teammate by the shoulder, and they spin as they wait for the other to make the first move. Atlas is trying to pull them apart. When the other teammate’s back is to me, I gasp.
Wolfe, 7.
Atlas succeeds in pulling Uriah off him. They both try to walk away, but Derek is tugging on Atlas and spewing more venom. I can see spit flying through his face guard.
Then suddenly, a fist flies and I flinch, wrapping my hand around Ciro’s arm on instinct. The fight reignites as Atlas is now the one wrestling with Derek. More of the team starts to rush for them, making a combined effort to pull them apart.
There’s blood on the ice, and my body fills with fury. I’m running before I can even hear Ciro’s protests.
Becauseno onetouches my fucking pack.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“You guys are extra giddy tonight.” Dax skates to a stop beside us, ice scraping with a satisfying sound. “Your girl is here, isn’t she?”
I feel my lips pull into a smile without any effort. I couldn’t play coy even if I wanted to.
“It’s a special night.” To know our girl came to watch us play because shewantedto, and not because she felt an obligation, is everything. I’m so proud of her for facing her fear and walking back into this building despite all the bad memories associated with it.
She may not think so, but she’s a strong person. It constantly leaves me in a state of awe that someone with that amount of strength has chosen to tangle up withus.Mypack. We’re just a group of unlikely misfits, but we’ve been given a chance with a diamond, and we’re not wasting a second while fighting for it.
I’ve been trying to wear off the guilt I’ve been feeling, especially with how amazing the past few weeks have gone. I may have regrets, but everything feelsright, which makes me think maybe things were supposed to go this way. Maybe there was nothing I could have done to change it. Maybe all I’m doing is torturing myself by reliving the past.
“So… does that mean I should slack off so Uriah can impress her?” Our teammate jokes just as Uriah skates by.
“Always so full of yourself, Dax,” he responds, but there’s no menace in it. His expression even looks light, happy. It seems he’s in a good mood as well, maybe even more so.
“Wow, really? You’re not going to punch me?”
Uriah just shrugs casually. “The night is young.”
They continue their lighthearted banter as I look up into the crowd. Ciro normally sits in the same generalized area, but I don’t have enough time to scope them out before I’m being called over by Coach Zane.
I breathe easy, thinking about the night ahead. My talk with Coach goes smoothly, as he reminds me yet again of my goal.
The NHL.
It’s still my first love. It’s the first thing I’ve ever worked hard for. I have no doubt if I gave it up and decided to be something else, like a professor or a researcher, that I would be content. Happy, even. I love knowledge, accumulating it and giving it. But nothing beats the thrill of being on the ice. The absolute adrenaline that pumps through me whenever I assist a teammate on a goal or score one myself. The fellowship of like-minded individuals around me that love the sport as much as I do.
The entire experience lights me up from the inside out.
But so does spending time with my scent match.
