Page 73 of Forbidden Hockey
Goddammit. Focus, Boulder.
I’m gonna have to leave Trav off the ice if I wanna do well this season.
I skate hard. So hard my lungs burn as hot as my muscles. I love charging the goal, and I finally get a few in on our goaltender. In the stands, Bryce Meyer—Coach’s younger brother—watches on with the littlest Meyer, Stanley, nestled into one of those carrier things against his chest.
A puck thuds off the glass in front of his face, startling the baby. Bryce sways him back and forth, glaring at the source of the puck. I spin on my skates.
Elkington. Maverick Elkington. He’s Rhett’s younger brother, so he’s somewhere in his early twenties, close in age with Bryce, who I think is nineteen? Is turning nineteen? Maybe just turned nineteen? Something like that.
Even with his helmet and all his gear, he’s unmistakable. Elkingtons have a way about them. They stand with a posture that says they own everything and act as if they have no fucks to give because I guess they don’t. Except—as we’ve learned—when they’re interested in someone. First, Rhett Elkington was interested in Jack, and that was a whole drama, but then Rhett fell for Coach’s younger half-brother, Logan.
And fall hard he did. Holy shit. I’ve known Rhett for a while, but I’ve never seen him like this, even when he was with Jack. Honestly, good for him. Jack found his person—Mercy,Coach—Casey found his, even if he won’t admit it, Dash will have his eventually, and me? I’ve got mine.
Fuck, I hope I have mine.
I fire another shot at the goal and miss. I wish it didn’t feel like an omen.
“Elkington, get your ass over here. I wanna have a little chat with you,” Coach Meyer says.
Maverick smirks. He knows he’s in trouble, but he doesn’t give a shit. “Sure, Coach.” Even his voice gives “I’ll allow you to think you’re in charge of me until it no longer suits”.
Oh boy.
But I’m entertained, so long as it doesn’t affect me badly. Mav is a solid player, and I’m looking forward to having him on the team. Besides, I think I’m getting used to the drama. Makes me feel right at home. To think I thought this year was gonna be boring with Jack, Case, and Stace gone.
I drag my sorry ass off the ice after practice, sitting on the bench, my body nearly going into shock. Maybe I should have gotten in a little more ice time during the off-season. Maverick did. Either that or he’s a genetic anomaly, because he looks like he’s barely broken a sweat, despite how hard I know he worked all practice.
“I’m gonna go for a run if you wanna join me,” Maverick says as he struts by, shaking his hair out like he’s modeling a line of swimsuits.
“I would, but I plan to die peacefully after a hot shower.” That is, if I make it to the shower. The shower stalls look very far away right now.
“Suit yourself,” he says, stripping out of his gear.
Dash, the possessive little shit that he is, cuts in front of Maverick to get my attention, I guess. I’m fully aware that he’d irk other people with behavior like that, but fuck those people. I was a first-hand witness to his traumatic upbringing, which was topped off with a poisonous Robin cherry. The people who get annoyed by him should grow their damn empathy muscles as far as I’m concerned. They don’t have the first clue as to what happens to your insides with a childhood like ours, how you’re subconsciously wired for danger at every turn, making you doshit others find strange and unnecessary. I was lucky to have Hunter to set me at ease, but Dash didn’t have that until he was reunited with his dad.
I know how hard he tries and works on being brave, but he’ll always have the cloying fear that he’ll lose the people he loves—especially the ones he’s closest with. I’m one of those people, and I consider it a fucking honor. Is Dash a bit needy? Sure, but he’s one of the best fucking people I know. We all come with quirks; those are his. When I think about how shitty people can be, a little neediness is the least of my worries. He’s loyal, and that’s the best quality I can think of.
Besides, I actually do know how to set boundaries—Hunt taught me—I just … like what I have with Dash. Even Trav didn’t want to touch it, for now.
I asked him, “Since you’re no longer cool with me going to nightclubs, where do we stand on Dash?”
He’s well aware of how often Dash seeks me for comfort andhowhe seeks me for comfort—namely, in my arms, sometimes cuddled up with me in bed.
Trav got a bit growly, but said, “Let’s leave it as is and revisit it in the future if we need to.”
I’m also pretty sure he mumbled something about, “So long as I don’t gotta see it, should be fine,” under his breath. I let it go, taking him at his word, but noted it because it’s definitely got a fucking shelf life.
So, instead of being annoyed with Dash, I smile about the adorable jealousy he’s giving over the fact that I might make a new friend.
“How was practice, Dashie?” I sling my arm around him, he leans his head on my shoulder.
“I’m tired. Is it just me, or did I take more hits than usual during the scrimmage?
It’s not just him. Without Jack, Case, and Stacey, that leaves just me to protect Dash on the ice and ward the newbies away from him. It was something Stacey initiated. He could never stand Dash getting hit. He’s broken teeth over it. The three of us helped Stacey so he could focus on the game.
I said I’d do my best, and I am, but it’s nearly impossible on my own. Haven’t gotten a chance to talk to all the newbies yet. Would Maverick help if I asked him to? He’d want something for his troubles—that’s how Elkingtons work—but so long as I can pay his price, I’m good with that.
“It was a rough one,” I say, and it’s true. I feel like a piñata must after a round at a birthday party. “C’mon, drag me to the showers, bud.”
