Page 91 of Puck You
“Boyfriend, I know.I wanted to see your face when I called him that.”
I pinched her side.“Don’t be such a bitch.”
“Still keeping things casual?”
“I’m not sure they were ever casual,” I confessed.“As much as I tried to convince myself they were.”It felt better than I’d expected to admit it out loud.All this time, I’d been terrified tolet Sebastian into my heart, but there was no denying that he was already embedded within the walls of my chest, his very essence coursing through my blood.
“Congratulations, you’ve made it to the first step of acceptance,” Sam exclaimed, and it sounded like she was reading from a self-help book.
“Which is?”I asked.
“Acknowledgment.”
“And what’s the next step?”
She shrugged.“I’m not sure.It’s something that stars with the letterA, but I haven’t read one of those recovery pamphlets from work in a while, so I couldn’t say.”
“Apology it is,” I muttered.“That’s the only way I’m going to make things right with Sebastian.”
>> > <<
Penn State’s starting center lined up across from me and staredinto my eyes with a hardened look that promised blood.Max Henderson was a well-known agitator.I’d even had the pleasure of skating with him in my youth hockey days, and he wasn’t any nicer before his balls dropped.Rather than support his teammates, he spent his time on the ice disrupting opposing players and causing maximum pain.The guy could teach a course in chirping.Personally, I preferred to let my scoring do the talking, but guys like Henderson got off to the sound of their own voice.Under normal circumstances, I’d have no issue handling someone like him.Loudmouthed, dirty-playing opponents didn’t faze me.But I was hanging on by a thread after the last twelve hours—tired from a sleepless night, angry at Grace for standing me up, and disappointed in myself for pretending like I was fine to step onto this ice before having a real conversation with her.I should have answered her call this morning, or heard her out last night, but I’d been too angry to think straight.And right now, my head wasn’t fully in this game.
Henderson cracked his neck as the referee approached.I willed myself to have a quiet mind and sound heart, but as the puck dropped, the image of a drunken Grace flickered to life in my head.The split-second distraction was enough to cost me the face-off.Henderson backhanded the puck to his right wing before I even moved, and the group instantly dispersed.I flew after the opponent, desperate to right my mistake and force a turnover.Thankfully, Bryce intercepted a lazy pass back to Henderson and flung the biscuit out to Bishop before things got out of hand.Bishop made a quick wrister to Kent, who passed the puck to me as I crossed through the neutral zone.Crisis averted.The second line came on before anything fun happened, and as soon as my ass hit the bench, Coach was in my ear.“You okay, son?”
I nodded my head in a bold-faced lie, scanning the arena for any sign of Grace.I wanted to believe she was out there, even after our fight, but I had my doubts.She’d already let me down last night; what was one more no-show?
Get yourself together.
Damn me for being too stubborn to pick up the phone this morning, and damn Grace for having such a chokehold over my sanity.
“Sebastian.Go!”
Dawson’s piercing command had me flying off the bench and onto the rink in a matter of seconds.Quiet mind, sound heart.Quiet mind, sound heart.I repeated Bryce’s pre-game mantra, hoping the words would steer me right.From that moment onward, time passed in a strange haze, some sections of play crawling by while others sped by in a blur.I felt like I was trapped in a fever dream.Every moment I was on the bench I spent searching the crowd for Grace, hoping to catch a brief glimpse of her face.When I was out on the ice, she would emerge from thin air, appearing like a goddamn mirage at the worst possible time.By the first intermission, I felt like I was losing my mind; there was no other reasonable explanation for what was happening to me.
“You all need to pick up the intensity.”
Coach Dawson’s voice echoed across the packed locker room.Around him, all twenty-five players sat in silence, some with their heads hung, other’s with pained expressions painted across their faces.The first period had been a chaotic scramble resulting in a tied score.Penn State was playing to win, there was no doubt about that.
“Bryce and Bishop, keep an eye on number sixteen.He’s been cherry-picking all game, and I don’t want to see another goddamnbreakaway.And please don’t fall victim to Max Henderson’s taunts.The next time he’s in the sin bin—and there will be a next time—use that to our advantage.Assess and execute.Those are your orders.”
