Page 8 of Begrudgingly Yours
When I’m outside, I can finally breathe, but there’s no telling how long this relief will last.
FOUR
Rory Cromwell has ruined me.
Ever since what I like to call ourspring fling—because ‘one night stand’ sounds too cheap for what we experienced together—I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. The memory is seared into my brain and I can’t seem to get the patches out.
I’ve gotten propositions since that glorious night. Promises of casual and mind-blowing sex, but even though flirting still comes as naturally as breathing, I just can’t get my body on the same page. It’s borderline embarrassing that the only way my dick becomes a live wire is when I’m thinking of the beautiful girl with dark blue hair and quick wit.
So when I say she’s ruined me, I literally mean she’sruinedme. She hasruinedmy dick.
Even now as I’m sitting on the bench waiting for the next line change, watching the opposing team kick our asses, I can’t stop thinking about her. Seeing her for the first time today was obliterating, and although it was obvious that she was just as affected by us, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. Wecouldn’t comfort her, couldn’t touch her; we couldn’t bask ourselves in the rapport that we gained that night many months ago. It may have just been a threesome between college students after some party, but there was an intimacy that we developed that night that means more to me than all the orgasms we achieved. We felt like a unit, like she belonged to us and we to her, and it’s that simple acknowledgement that has kept me from moving on in the slightest.
Everett and I don’t talk about it much. Rory snuck out of our beds that morning, and it’s been a little bit cold ever since. We’re still best friends and as close as ever, but that coldness has seeped between us enough to feel the frostbite. I don’t know if he’s as disappointed by the aftermath of that night as I am, or if he’s moved on, but it has left something uncomfortable between us. I’m afraid to ask him about it, because if he’s not as obsessed with Rory as I am, what does that mean for us? We’ve always pictured ourselves as pack mates, but maybe that’s not in the cards for us. The pack bond would have certainly clicked in by now, wouldn’t it?
Tonight, we’re playing against Connecticut, and they’re not holding back. They’re a bit more brutal than I remember last season. Thatcher and his defense partner Will, are struggling out on the ice. I look over at Uriah with a look of frustration. “Why are they fighting so hard?”
Uriah’s jaw is tense as he answers. “Maybe there’s a scout here tonight. Or maybe they’re trying to make a comeback from how badly they lost before the championship last year.”
Both of those seem plausible, but it doesn’t solve how we’re going to make a comeback tonight. “Do you see number five? He’s been especially aggressive. Keep an eye on him when we get back on the ice.”
Uriah gives me a firm nod and we go back to watching the game in silence. My defense partner is usually the grumpiestperson I know, but ever since he met and bonded with Stacia, he’s been more lively. He’s still reserved, but his happiness is palpable now. Normally, he’s the opposite of me. He’s surly, I’m outgoing; he’s quiet, I’m boisterous. That’s never caused an issue within our partnership though. In hockey, on the rink, we’re like peas in a pod. Coach always pairs us together, and I’m grateful. I wouldn’t want anyone else watching my back out there.
After the first period and intermission end, we head back out onto the ice. There’s a moment where I think maybe I imagined how frantic the energy of the game was, but then it hits me full force when I’m body checked into the wall by a forward on the other team. I hiss and then get my balance back. I didn’t even do anything to deserve that. And it sucks even more that the ref didn’t flag it.
I decide it’s time to get my head in the game and charge forward, keeping an eye on the puck. After the third time intercepting, I’m a bit out of breath but my body is alive. Uriah and I are working together beautifully, and I’m hoping Coach lets us stay in the rest of the game because I know deep down that we can turn this game around.
I send the puck back to Kendall, who sends it flying to Atlas. Uriah stays close behind, acting as their shield, but then the puck is stolen from Atlas almost as soon as he gets it and flies back toward the half line.
Everything blurs together as the puck gets closer. I try to zone in on the puck, but the opposing forward sees what I’m doing before I do and sends the puck flying before I can intercept. The puck flies fast and without any precision, so even though Everett can move out of the way, he doesn’t, and the puck hits him right in the shoulder. I hear his grunt of pain and immediately dart to him as someone signals the referee for a timeout.
When I get to him, he’s holding his shoulder, rotating it as if feeling out the pain. “Is it good?” I ask with a bit of impatience. My heart is beating a hundred miles a minute. “Do we need to get the medic?”
Everett takes a few more seconds, undeterred by my panic. He’s always been the more level-headed one. That’s why he’s a goalie and I’m just someone who hits those trying to intimidate him.
“I’m good,” he finally says. “It hit my pad, it was just really hard. I may have a bruise, but I think I’m okay.”
I exhale relief for all of two seconds before I look back across the ice. The opposing team stands around, not looking worried or sorry in the slightest. It causes smoke to form in my ears. If anyone treatedtheirgoalie that way, they’d fucking riot.
Hm, that sounds like a good idea.
“Don’t even think about it,” Everett says. Atlas pops over and gives Everett a water bottle. He squirts some in his mouth before looking back at me. “You can kill them with kindness. Don’t break any rules. The refs have been acting shady today.”
I know he’s right, so I nod as Atlas gives a few pointers. He tells Everett that if they try that again, to not let himself get hurt. Ev allows our captain to give the direction, but I can see it on his face. He won’t be letting any more pucks past him tonight. He may be stuck to this goal, but he’s out for blood, too.
We go back into the game with a hardness that wasn’t there before. I can already tell Uriah is on the same page as me, because we take as many shots as we can within the rules of the game. The anger is sizzling off the ice from the other team as they realize that we’re not going to bend over and take it anymore.
Number five is especially hostile, resorting to name-calling and low-blow insults to rile us up. After Uriah and I help intercept another puck, the opposing defenseman yells out toEverett. Something about his alpha-hood and asking why two defensemen are now at his beck and call. I see red, and I’m in his face before I can even think about it.
“You’re calling out his alpha, but you’re the one going after someone who can’t leave his post. How about you say something to someone right in front of you?”
He snarls at me, “I’ll say whatever I want to whoever, shrimpy.”
The name actually causes me to laugh, which somehow makes him even madder. He grabs me by my jersey, and the movement causes me to grab him right back so I can steady him for a punch. Before we can really get into it, our teams are at our sides and pulling us apart. Neither of our teams can afford a penalty right now.
I keep my eyes locked on him, and mime to him that I’m watching him. He just rolls his eyes and skates away, leaving me with Everett at my back. “You held yourself back, man. That’s good.”
I give him a weak smile. “No one talks about my best friend that way, even if we both know it’s just a tactic.”
