Page 20 of Breakaway

I squeezed his thigh, hoping to send some positive vibes. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll find another way. You’re right. There isn’t only one way to combat things.”

“Say that again. I love when you say I’m right,” Fletcher teased.

“Don’t go getting a big head. You’re still on the shit list.”

“Oh? I thought I made up for that,” he whispered, his voice all gravely, making my toes curl with their heat.

“Nice try,” Reed said, moving his hand out quickly toward Fletcher but stopping right before he made contact and flicked his forehead. Fletcher had tensed, preparing for the punch he was owed. Reed grinned, moving his arm back.

For the rest of the flight, I spent time relaxing and focusing on the game. Fletcher had given me a lot to think about. I couldn’t let the Society take my complete focus. There were too many great things in my life to dedicate my entire day to them. I might as well have said yes if I was going to do that.

As we neared the airfield, I spotted snow covering the ground. Thankfully, the runway had been cleared, allowing us to descend without issue. A bus waited off to the side for us, and everyone grabbed their gear as it was unloaded onto the tarmac. A sigh of relief left me as we pulled up to the school, not a single news van in sight.

“Welcome to Royal Hill. I’ll show you to the locker rooms,” an older man greeted us as we stepped into the hockey stadium.

He took off before I could remind him we needed two separate areas. A good crowd of people lingered about, their chatter filling the space. The scent of popcorn drifted through the stadium, mixing with the smell of ice.

“Here you go,” the man said, pointing to the locker rooms. Fletcher stepped inside with the males, Reed waiting to see where I was going with the three other players.

“Excuse me. We requested a second room.”

The man stopped, looking at me and the players before landing on Reed. Fire boiled in me at his dismissive glance.

“I’m the coach, and we require a safe and secure place for me and my players to change. If you can’t provide that, then I’ll be reporting your school to the junior hockey association.”

His face resembled someone who’d eaten a really sour lemon. His lips puckered, and his eyes narrowed with disgust toward me. Oh, now you can see me, turd?

“I’m so sorry about this, Coach Henshaw,” said a woman dressed in a power suit, high heels, and the reddest lipstick I’d ever seen. She stepped out of a room nearby, taking in the scene. “Victor, I’ll take it from here.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine; his face still turned down like he’d eaten a rotten apple. I glanced at the woman more, recognition filling me, but I couldn’t place from where.

“Thanks. And you are?” I asked, hoping her name would trip my memory.

“Pippa Rivers. It’s a pleasure to meet you in a more formal manner.”

That was it! She’d played for the Crimson Seals for years. I’d never played against her team, but I remembered her. Though I still didn’t think that was why she looked familiar. Everyone pretty much looked the same in their uniform and helmet. She led us to a room around the corner and handed me a key.

“Hopefully, this will be to your satisfaction, and there won’t be any of those unfortunate events you experienced at Brookside Bears earlier in the season.”

She said the words with a smile, but I couldn’t help but feel like they were a dig at me and the situation we’d been placed in. My lips flattened into a straight line, and I nodded as I took the key and unlocked the door.

“Good luck.” She turned to leave, but I could’ve sworn I heard her say, “you’re going to need it,” before she turned the corner.

No one else appeared to have heard it, so I chalked it up to my paranoia. Reed nodded; he’d wait until we were done and would change once we were back in the locker room. It felt a bit ridiculous and too ‘damsel in distress’ for my liking, but after the last away game, I didn’t want to take any chances. Especially now that I had three other players to look after.

Reese, Ana, and Molly were quiet as they changed, and I hoped it was because they were in the zone and going through their plays. The four of us put on our jerseys and guards quickly and headed out the door, locking the room. I pocketed the key, hoping I wouldn’t lose it.

We followed Reed to the main locker room, and the team gathered around as Fletcher reviewed some last-minute pointers. When he was done, he turned to me.

“We’ve been playing great and showing every team we’ve encountered that we’re not to be taken for granted. This is just another team that needs to learn that message. Play clean. Be aware. And remember how much you love it. Go, Blizzards.”

Everyone shouted, throwing their hands up into the air as smiles spread across their faces. Excitement built in everyone as we left the locker room and stepped out onto the ice. The Cavillers were already out there, their red and gold uniforms bright under the lights. One player broke off from his team, stopping and spraying us as he neared.

I yelled at him for poor sportsmanship when he took his helmet off, and my worst fears were confirmed.

“You’re going down, Blizzards. You better watch your back because most of you won’t be walking out of here,” Anders Michelson taunted.

The color drained from my face as I spotted the coach skating closer toward us—Kurt Kuga.

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