Page 98 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

Maddox is staring at me like I’ve gone mad.

“Don’t tell me you still carry that pouch of emergency shit from since you were seventeen,” Maddox questions.

I’ll admit that it brings me far too much joy seeing my fearsome, confident leader be surprised by my underlying ways of protecting my crew.

I have to learn to protect us from our attempts to ruin each other.

“Thirteen years,” I state proudly. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared for the best and the worse.”

“Ace,” Mikayla’s voice is so soft-spoken. “Are you seriously carrying the allergen medicine I used when I was thirteen, sixteen, and twenty?”

I’m impressed she remembered the years she actually used the fast-acting tablet.

I’d never admit it to her, but I used to carry an EpiPen with her name on it until recently because the pharmacy I used to go to—and carried some connections with—shut down for renovations. I don’t want her to know I’d been getting the pen, even when we hadn’t seen each other for years, but maybe this revelation will give me away.

“Your allergen medicine. Advil for Damien since he gets a lot of headaches and is sometimes prone to migraines. Eye drops for Wolfgang because he’ll never admit his eyes are itchy during the spring season, and an inhaler for Maddox,” I sum up.

Mickey’s looking at her no-longer-ex-boyfriend.

“You need an inhaler?”

“Not regularly,” Maddox admits while shifting his gait so he’s facing her better from where she’s sitting on the examination table. “Only during an asthma attack or on an even rarer occasion, panic attack.” He looks back at me. “You seriously kept this shit with you when we’ve been parted from each other for years?”

I shrug as if it’s no big deal.

“You’re the peacekeeper of the group, so I gotta step up and take on the role of ensuring everyone stays alive,” I answer confidently. “No different from how Damien is usually the mediator in our group, and Wolfgang is the one who makes sure we’ve eaten daily.”

I guess mine seems more vital because they’re still speechless with my act to keep these essentials with me at all times.

On and off the ice.

It had to prove how important they all were to me.

Even when Mikayla was a kid and none of us had romantic emotions for her, we always wanted to make sure we were equipped and ready to help her in any situation since she met Maddox on that crowded ice rink.

Having a panic attack after crashing into Maddox and realizing she couldn’t find her parents.

“So,” I decide it’s time to get to the real point of our distraction, or else our excuse to get Dr. Bridgett out of here would be in vain. “How’s our Mickey doing?”

She lets out a sigh.

I’m certain she understands we need to address this. Address us and this brewing dynamic. I tried to ignore it last week when we were moving Mikayla’s stuff to her suite that we managed to snag with our ‘connections.’

Or the art of negotiation with the manager of the building.

“This shouldn’t be about me,” she whispers and almost looks ashamed.

I hate that expression on her. It’s riles me up because it reminds me of those first few months when she had to move back to Strattonville because Coach Johnson had to file for bankruptcy.

That face of pure defeat seemed like a permanent wound to her face that took a long time to be replaced.

“I didn’t mean to be so bitchy earlier or even call out Jayce like that. I’ve just… well… there shouldn’t be an excuse.” She needs a second to really figure her thoughts out. “This weekend… was really hard. Even though you guys passed by at the dorm and drove back in town to pick me up from the cemetery, so my dad could go with Coach Cyrus and do some errands before the season starts, I’ve been struggling with my emotions. Or maybe it’s the regrets I still carry.”

She ruffles her hands through her red locks.

Red suits her too damn well.

I wonder if she understands how sexy the color looks on her long strands that look more taunting in a ponytail.

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