by Toni Aleo
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
I lean on my stick as the ref comes to the face-off, puck in hand.
Arkansas is in town, and they are kicking our asses.
I don’t know what is going on. The forwards aren’t vibing, they aren’t taking any shots, and they look like toddlers on skates. It’s pathetic. Defense is strong, but we can’t block everything. And fucking hell, no one is watching their man, so they’re screening our goalie like mad.
It’s fucking bullshit.
When the puck drops, Walsh wins it back to Moon, and everyone is moving. Moon skates the puck back, passing it to me, and I hold it as our forwards change. We were under pressure, so we cleared the puck, and now we need the change. When an Arkansas player comes toward me, I pass it back to Moon, and his voice fills the rink. “Maky, set up! Move your ass.”
I look to where he wants to pass it, but Maky is snailing it to his position. Fucking bastard. I tap the ice with my stick, and Moon looks to me and shoots me the puck. Cradling it, I start up the ice, my eyes on Maky and our other two forwards. They’re trying to break the zone, but Arkansas is on them. When one comes for me, I pass it over to Moon, who carries it into the zone.
But he’s cut off. The player pushes the puck away, and thankfully, Maky is there to catch it, taking it back as Moon skates around. Coach hollers for us to change, but not yet, we have to break their zone first. I don’t want to be caught on a bad change. I slap my blade to the ice once more, and Moon sends it back to me. I’m so fucking frustrated that I swing my stick back and crash my blade to the puck. The blade shatters, pieces going everywhere, and I let my head fall back.
Fuck.
But before I can shake my broken stick in complete frustration, I hear the horn.
The goal horn. The crowd is going crazy.
My teammates have their arms up, Moon is attacking me from the left, and I still have no clue what just happened.
“Attaboy, Justice!” the boys yell.
Holy hell, I scored.
I tap their helmets. “We’re in this. Let’s fucking go!” Heading to the bench, I tap my buddies’ gloves, telling all of them we can win this. I thought I felt great before the game—after rubbing one out flooded with thoughts of Sofia and then a nice nap—but now… Now, I feel fucking great.
Sitting down, I take a long pull of my Gatorade as my eyes fall on a gorgeous brunette who has her pom-poms in the air and a large Bullies sweatshirt on. Her lips are tilted in the sexiest of ways, and I know she’s looking at me.
’Cause she’s all mine, and she’ll be waiting for me after the game.
Man, nothing can bring me down from this high.
When Coach grabs a fistful of my jersey, I hold my breath. “Didn’t I call you off the ice?”
I don’t dare look at him. “I was making a play, and I didn’t want to get caught on a bad change.”
“You didn’t even know it went in until the horn sounded. You took a chance when the Arkansas forwards could have broken that play and rushed it up the ice.”
“I would have stopped them.”
“With a broken stick?” he asks, and I nod.
“I’d use my body. I wouldn’t let them score.”
“Moot point. I told you to get off the fucking ice.” He shakes me angrily.
And there went my good mood.
We lost the game. No surprise there.
Not only did we get our asses handed to us by Arkansas, we also had the fun of Coach doing the same. He was not happy with our efforts, but then, I don’t think any of us is. It was a shit game, and we need to put it behind us. That’s what I said when I left, but no one was listening to me. Our normal party night had been canceled. We have to come in for a morning skate at the ass-crack of dawn. I’m pretty sure after that ass-chewing, none of us would dare come in hungover.
Tucking my hands in the pockets my hoodie, I head out of the locker room, but before I can get anywhere, Moon is calling me back. “Justice.”
I stop, and he catches up with me, a misplaced grin on his face. We just had our asses whupped; why is he grinning like that? “What’s up?”
He smacks my chest. “Dude, I got a meeting with the South Carolina IceCats. Coach just told me. Can you believe that?”
My heart drops. He has a meeting? I haven’t had shit. What the fuck? But I mask all that for my buddy. I slap hands with him. “Dude, that’s badass.”
“Right? Hopefully I can sign with them.”
“For sure. That would be awesome.”
He nods. “Yeah, I gotta go tell my parents. Coach is taking us out for a late dinner.”
Before I can comment, he runs off. I’m happy for him. He’s my buddy, but what the fuck? Coach has been on me like white on rice lately, and I want to believe it’s because he is trying to make me the player I want to be, but it doesn’t seem like that. I feel as if he’s treating me like someone he just has to deal with. Meanwhile, he’s taking Moon out and getting him meetings. What about me? What about my career? Dread fills my gut as I head out into the foyer. I want to believe that I’m good, that I’m going into the NHL like I want, but why does it feel off?
When a pair of arms comes around me from behind, the grin on my face is quick and effortless. I cover Sofia’s hands with mine and exhale hard as she squeezes me tightly. “Man, I need this hug.”
She presses her lips to my back before coming around to hug me. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her back tightly and holding her like she’s what is keeping me afloat. I nuzzle my nose in her hair, inhaling before she looks up at me, a grin turning up her sweet lips. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Tough game?”
“Awful game.”
Her bottom lip pops out. “I’m sorry.”
“Eh,” I say before kissing her temple once more. “I’m better now.”
Sofia searches my features, and I expect her to pry, but she goes up on her tippy-toes, kissing my jaw. “I thought you were amazing. Even Amelia said that goal was badass.”
I smile. “It was all luck.”
“Hey, a goal is a goal.”
“Amelia say that?”
She beams and winks. “Yup, I’m learning the lingo.”
I chuckle as I squeeze her tightly in my arms. “Where is my sister?”
Her lips turn down a bit. “She had something to do.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she says, but then she is grinning at me. I feel like she’s trying to distract me. She succeeds, of course. “Let’s get out of here.”
I let out an annoyed groan. “I’ve got a stupid early practice. I can’t be out late.”
“Okay,” she says softly, cuddling into my side. “I have an idea.”
“What?” I ask, chuckling a bit, but she’s already moving, pulling my hand as she heads out the door. “Where we going?”
“Surprise.”
I scrunch up my face. “I don’t like surprises.”
She flashes me a bright grin. “Oh, too bad I don’t care.”
She pulls me as her eyes burn into mine, and all I can do is laugh.
Funny how she can make me forget about everything but her.
It’s pretty fucking great.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sofia
I don’t have to pull Ryan far before we’re where I want to take him. I know he’s bummed, and I hate that. While I may not know much about hockey, I know losing six to one doesn’t do much for the ego. Because of this, I want to cheer Ryan up. I don’t want him to have such a defeated look on his face. It’s killing me.
I punch in the code for the gym while my other hand holds his. His thumb runs along the back of my hand, sending shockwaves up my arm. “Why are we going to the gym?”
“Shh,” I demand before pushing open the unlocked door and pulling him in. I hit the switch, and when the gym fills with fluorescent lighting, I know I’m home. My happy place. I grin back to him, and he perks a brow at me. “Come on.”
&n
bsp; He groans as I pull him along. “I’d rather take you back to my dorm.”
I chuckle, and while I may want that too, we’d get distracted. Which wouldn’t be that bad, since I’m all for throwing my card in the trash, but I think he needs this. Coming to the foam pit, I toe out of my sneakers and jump into the pit of foam blocks, landing on my face. I roll over onto my back, laughing as I look up at him. He doesn’t seem the least bit impressed. “This is my favorite spot, ever.”
“A pit of foam blocks?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s my safe zone. Come on.”
He hesitates. “Sofia—”
“Please,” I ask softly and very sweetly.
When I jut out my lip at him, he gives me a dry look. “Not fair.”
As he takes off his shoes, I call to him, “Well, grumpy ass, I have to play hardball.”
He chuckles softly before holding his arms out, looking like Jesus on the cross before falling face first into the foam pit. My laughter fills the gym as he rolls to his back, crossing his legs and arms before glancing over at me. “It’s really soft in here.”
“Yup, and it never fails me. I am never scared when I jump in here.”
“Cool.”
“My mom worked at my gym when I was little, and I would jump in here over and over again while I waited for her. It’s nice.”
“My bed, or hell, your bed is nice.”
“Man, you’re so crabby,” I accuse.
He mumbles something unintelligible before looking over at me. “I suck.”
My face scrunches up. “Never.”
“My stupid stick broke.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to buy you another?”
He shakes his head. “No, and I hate that we lost.”
“Yeah, that does suck.”
He lets out a loud groan before covering his face. “I don’t know, Sof. I’m stressing.”
“Stressing about what?” I ask. This is what I wanted. I didn’t want him to hide his feelings in bed as we felt each other up. I want him to tell me why he looks stricken, and I will help him. I’ve been knocked down. I’ve been on top. I’ve done it all. I’ve got him. He just has to let me in.
“Coach is a dick, and he’s really on me. I want his guidance, don’t get me wrong, but he really let me have it after that goal.”
I purse my lips. “Aren’t you supposed to score?”
“Yeah, but he wanted me off the ice. I had been worried about the change, and I didn’t listen,” he says, and then he sighs. “I don’t know, babe. I just feel a little off. Like something isn’t right.”
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t look at me; he just slowly shakes his head. “I’ve been playing for this team, on varsity, for four years now, and I haven’t ever been offered a meeting with a team.”
“Do you need that?”
He closes his eyes. “Yeah, and I think I’ve been ignoring it. I think I’ve trusted Coach and my agent that they’ll come for me. That the scouts are watching me. Fuck, maybe I should have gone into the EHL.”
“EHL?”
“Eastern Hockey League. It’s like two tiers down from the NHL but one step up from college. I was offered a contract with an affiliate of the Assassins, but I wanted more. Maybe I was selfish.”
“Why did you say no?”
“I figured why give up college when I can play here, wait, and get my degree.”
“Well, I think that’s smart,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“But what if that was my chance?”
“Well, you can’t go back, so no point heading that way.”
He bites his lip, and I think he’s ignoring my uplifting saying. “I just want to get into the NHL.”
“And nothing is saying you won’t. This is all in your head.”
“But…” His words drop off, and I watch him. He is usually so confident, so sure of himself, but right now, he just looks broken. It seems like he’s been this way more often than not. “Moon came up to me and told me he has a meeting with the IceCats from South Carolina. I want that. Even a shit team like the IceCats, I’d take it. I just want to get in.”
Ah, the root of the problem. It wasn’t the loss; it’s jealousy. I understand that. “That sucks.”
“It does.”
I lie on my stomach, reaching out and lacing my fingers with his. “After I broke my knee, I knew I wasn’t going to Worlds, and I had to go to be considered for the Olympic team. One of the girls I was always going back and forth with went. While she didn’t make the team, I remember lying in a foam pit like this, feeling sorry for myself and thinking my dreams were over. My coach, he was the biggest dick ever, but he didn’t let me wallow. He saw the greatest in me, so he looked down at me and asked, ‘Do you like it down there?’ I was so confused, and before I could even come up with anything to say back to him, he said something that has stayed with me my whole life. ‘Losers stay down. Winners pick themselves up and find a way to win.’”
I pause, letting my words sink in as my eyes search his. “Things aren’t going your way, but who cares? This is your dream. You define your future. If you want a meeting, then damn it, go get one.”
“It’s not that easy—”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not, and believe me, I know it’s not the same sport, but gymnastics is just as hard. When I decided I wanted to go to college to compete, I sent videos to every university I wanted to be a part of. My scores, everything, I sent it all. It took hours upon hours. I had meeting after meeting. They came to see me train. The funny thing is, Bellevue wasn’t even on my list, but they came to me. They heard I was in the market for a school, and they wanted me. So, here I am. In a place I didn’t expect to go to, and I’m pretty fucking happy. My coach was completely against it. He wanted me to stay and coach for him, but I had dreams. I want to be able to do big things, and I want bigger than that gym. I want my own gym. What do you want?”
“I want to be in the NHL,” he says simply. “Maybe I have been sitting back, waiting for something to happen. Hoping other people will make things happen for me. I can’t do that.”
“No, you can’t,” I insist, holding his gaze. “You are amazing, you are strong, and you are very smart. Ryan, you can make things happen. I mean, let’s be honest. I didn’t want to be with you, but here I am, in a foam pit, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around you and tell you that I will get you a meeting. That I’ll put you in the NHL tomorrow, just to see you smile. You deserve the world, and if the world isn’t going to give it to you, then you go and take it.”
He doesn’t say anything. His eyes search mine as my heart pounds in my ears. I don’t want to piss him off. I don’t want him to feel like he’s wasted his time, because I truly don’t think he has. He’s playing, he’s working, and he’s smart as a whip. He’s built a backup plan, but I know he doesn’t want to acknowledge that. He wants the NHL, and damn it, I want it for him.
I want the world for him.
When he starts moving, he throws foam blocks out of the way before covering my body with his. I wrap my arms around his neck and stare up into his striking blue eyes as our hearts pound against each other. He cups my jaw with one hand, moving hair out of my eyes with the other. I know he wants to say something, but he just stares at me. I squeeze his arms, a small smile pulling at my lips. “I believe in you.”
He swallows hard and presses his nose to mine. “Thank you.” Ryan’s eyes drift shut. With his voice low, he whispers, “Man, I’m glad I was persistent with you.”
I nod. “I wish I hadn’t resisted as hard as I had.”
His eyes meet mine, so dark and so blue. “But it makes our story so much better.”
“Yeah,” I agree, but while he is smiling, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I know he wants to say more; I can see it all in his eyes. His shoulders are taut, there is a tic in his jaw, and his eyes… They hold all kinds of goals and dreams. I want them all. I want to help him reach them, and I wan
t to be right there beside him. Cheering him on. When he doesn’t say anything, I take his lips with mine, and he lets me. Within seconds, I turn to goo under his mouth, but that’s nothing new.
Ryan does that to me.
He draws sweet kisses from me, his hands holding me so close and so fiercely. I wonder if this is what Amelia was talking about earlier. While I think Drew is junk, I understand what Amelia was saying about how she felt.
I feel that for Ryan.
“So the next couple weeks are gonna suck, huh?”
I lean into Ryan, holding his hand with both of mine. We’re heading back to my dorm. He insisted on walking me back, even though I know he is beat. I’d much rather go back to his house, but he needs to sleep. I need the distraction, because he’s right; the next couple weeks are going to suck, and I don’t want to think about them.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “I have meets every weekend until break, and ugh, finals.”
“Yeah, I have a lot, and the Assassins are going on a homestead since they’ll be traveling all of December. So I think I might be working a lot with them to get my hours.”
That makes sense. “I don’t blame you.”
“And then I need to get some meetings.”
I smile, pressing my chin into his arm. “Yes, you do.”
“You know, we haven’t talked about break. Are you going home?”
I shake my head, my stomach turning sour. “Actually, no. My sponsor offered to send me home, but since my mom has moved, there isn’t room for me in her apartment. We could make that work, but I wouldn’t be able to train.”
He takes on a quizzical expression. “You can’t go back to your old gym?”
I scoff. “Oh no. When I left, I left. My coach told me I was dead to him. He fired my mom and everything.”
“Jesus, dramatic much?”
“You have no clue.”
“Why’s he like that? He basically made you who you are.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, but he’s a prideful man. He discovered me, and he always said he put everything he had in me. When I failed him and decided to go to college, he wanted me to go to UCLA because that would look good on his wall, and then I could always come back. But when I chose ‘some shit Tennessee school,’ he lost it.”