Page 63 of False Play
The coach clapped, trying to catch the kids’ attention. “Alright, kids, please thank Anderson for being here, and we’ll see you here next weekend. Yeah?”
The kids completely ignored their coach and stood in front of Henry to ask him questions. His eyes sparkled, and his smile was genuine as he answered everyone with patience and kindness.
It was a rare sight. One I liked—a lot.
“Your parents are not gonna be happy with me if you guys don’t get going, let’s go,” the coach pressed.
Most of the kids listened and shuffled out of the rink, but one, who couldn’t be more than eight years old, lingered in front of Henry. He stared at his hands and fidgeted nervously before glancing up and asking, “Will you be here next weekend?”
Henry crouched to meet the boy’s gaze. “I won’t, I’m sorry,” he said, his tone gentle. “We’ve got an away game, but I promise I’ll be here the week after that.” He reached out, clasped the kid’s small hand, and curled it into a fist to give him a fist bump. A warm and kind smile spread across his face as he added, “You did great today, buddy. Keep it up, and you’ll be faster than Hayes in no time.”
The kid’s eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement. “You think so?” he asked, his voice breathless with excitement. “He’sreallyfast.”
Henry chuckled and gently tapped the kid’s nose with his finger. “Just keep practicing.” With that, the kid laughed and hugged Henry before gliding across the ice to leave.
After a few minutes, Henry skated to where I was and sat next to me, making quick work of taking his skates off. “I can’t remember the last time I skated where it didn’t involve fuckingdrills.” His laugh was breathless, and his cheeks were a bit pink.
“You looked like you were having fun,” I replied with a smile. “I also took some pictures for your socials.” I waved my phone in the air.
He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Admit it, you took those pictures for yourself.”
“God, help me,” I muttered as I stood in front of him. One of the photographers called my name, and I lifted one finger, signaling them to wait a moment, then looked at Henry. “Nice work today, seriously.”
His intense blue-gray eyes met mine in genuine surprise. “I’m sorry, was that acompliment?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I replied dryly.
He grinned. “Are you going soft on me, Jonesy?”
With a roll of my eyes, I turned around and flipped him off without a word.
He barked a laugh. “There’s my girl.”
My stomach fluttered like a high school girl with a crush at his words. And though I meant the compliment with my whole heart, I needed to remember who he truly was. Or, well, who Ithoughthe truly was.
FIFTEEN
HENRY
I APOLOGIZE ON BEHALF OF THE MALE POPULATION.
There was nothing like hockey.I loved every bit of it. Putting on my gear and stepping onto the rink. The sound of the edges of my skates against the ice. The moment where it was just me, my stick, and a puck against the world.
Whether it was a game, practice, or even for fun, hockey was my heaven. My safe space.My everything.
Every bone in my body ached after the conditioning drills Coach made us do. Still, when he said we were going to end it with a small area game after the atrocious loss we had against the Dallas Riders, while the guys groaned in pain, my adrenaline spiked with excitement. Any time I found to spend time on the ice, I was fucking grateful for, considering I was still benched. All I looked for was that brief moment when the noise inside my head quieted, when I was at peace.
“Anderson,” Hayes shouted as he dodged a check from Morgan and quickly skated toward the center, where it was open. As I glided behind Parker, Hayes passed the puck through Parker’s legs before he could react. I took a quickbreath, gripped my stick, caught the pass in one smooth motion, and fired a quick snapshot.
That brief window between hitting the puck and waiting for it to meet the mesh was like a drug. Adrenaline ran through me like jet fuel in my veins. It was fast, and hot, and I loved every goddamn moment of it.
The puck slammed into the back of the net, making the mesh jump.
“That’s three. We win,” I called out, grinning as I skated in backward swizzles. “Maybe I should have played with my left. This was far too easy.”
“You cocky motherfucker,” Parker mumbled under his breath and slashed my stick with his.
“Good to see you’re still a mouthy motherfucker even though you’re benched, Anderson,” Morgan quipped.
