“I don’t like labeling people, but I think the expression puck bunny fits in this situation,” Violet says, shaking her head. “Lilly told me that she slept with two other Smoke players this year and some player from Michigan that was on a visiting team. This was before everything went down at the cottage. She said she’s turning guys down unless they play hockey. Can you imagine?”
I snort. “Unfortunately, I can.”
Peyton makes a dismissive hand gesture. “I don’t care who she wants to fuck. But it’s shitty to want to fuck someone because of their job. If she just wanted to screw them because they were hot, now that I understand. But turning someone down because they don’t shoot a puck? Please.”
Violet nods. “But honestly, she had zero interest in Will until he joined the Smoke and became one of their leading goal scorers.”
I know I shouldn’t care, but hearing that infuriates me. I wouldn’t care if Will never picked up a hockey stick again in his life, as long as he was happy.
The announcer reminds the audience that there’s one minute remaining in the period. I spent way too much time letting Lilly’s presence bother me tonight. It’s not going to happen again.
“Don’t let her get to you, Em. You know Will doesn’t want anything to do with her,” Violet reminds me.
“Yeah, and you have to get used to girls like that if you and Will become a thing,” Peyton says. “When he gets into this league full time? It’s going to be even worse than it is now. He’s going to have to women falling all over him.”
I know they’re right, but it’s easier to accept girls I don’t know crushing all over Will. The fact that Lilly did so much nasty stuff behind my back and pretended to be my friend makes this very personal.
“Should we let her know that we’re here?” Violet asks.
“No way,” I say vehemently. “If I go over there, there’s going to be a scene. I want to rip that jersey right off of her back. Look, I don’t want to embarrass Will. This is his night, so I’m taking the high road.”
The final buzzer sounds, and we watch Will skate off the ice and head down the tunnel toward the locker room. Fans walk en masse up the stairs to take advantage of the break between periods.
“Well, I don’t have to take the high road,” Peyton says, standing on her seat.
“Hey, Lilly!” she hollers, waving her arms. “Lilly, over here!”
Lilly turns and looks around. She sees Peyton, and her eyes go wide.
“Nice getup,” Peyton says, gesturing to her outfit. “That’s real dedication, Lil. You’re such a super fan.”
Lilly narrows her eyes, and then she sees me. Her cheeks turn beet red as our gazes lock.
“Lilly, take it from me, okay?” Peyton tells her. “No matter what you do, he’s never going to sleep with you. You know that, right? Like, not in a million fucking years kind of never. You could rub a lamp, ask a genie for three wishes, and it still wouldn’t happen. Anyway, it was great seeing you! We’ll do it again sometime, okay?”
Lilly turns and runs up the stairs, looking equal parts embarrassed and pissed off.
I wish I could muster up some sympathy for her, but after her nasty comments about Violet and all-around sneaky, lying behavior, I don’t feel a single thing.
Thankfully, there aren’t any little kids around to hear what was just said. There are plenty of amused adults, however.
“Peyton,” Violet says. “That might have been just a wee bit over the top.”
“She fucked over Emmy, and it’s inexcusable.” Peyton jumps down from her chair. “Besides, nothing I said is untrue.”
She’s right. I can’t argue with that.
We go upstairs to take a bathroom break, and Peyton grabs another beer while I opt for a Diet Coke. I can’t be tipsy when I see Will later. As tempting as it is to numb my nerves with alcohol, it’s not a good idea. I don’t want my congratulatory hug to end with me puking all over his dress shoes.
We make it back down to our seats just in time to see the Wolverines come back out onto the ice.
I get to see Will take a quick lap around their zone again before their center lines up for the face-off.
“Will looks really big in his uniform,” Peyton says. “Then again, they all do. Especially that guy.” She points to center ice, where a tall guy with the name Jackson emblazoned across the back of his Wolverine’s jersey gets ready for the puck drop.
“That’s Caden Jackson,” I tell her. “He’s one of the biggest players in the league. I think he’s 6’6” or something.”
“He’s pretty hot,” Peyton says, watching as he wins the face-off. “I’d climb him like a tree.”
I give her an amused look as we settle back to watch the game. To my surprise, she gets really into the action on the ice. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s trapped and knows she has no other choice but to watch the game, but she put her iPhone away, and that’s a first.
During the second period, Will’s picked up a few more shifts, and he’s really working every minute he’s out there. He’s skating hard and making perfect passes, and he even checked an Ottawa player into the boards.
That made me cringe, especially since it was at our end and close to where we were sitting. The crunch of bodies going into the glass and the rattling of the boards is slightly terrifying. I’m just glad Will wasn’t on the opposite end of that check. Seeing him get slammed face first into the glass would be crazy scary. I know it happens sometimes, but I don’t want to see him get hurt—especially not during this game.
Five minutes later, the refs blow the whistle, and Violet lets out a string of curse words.
“He barely even touched him,” Violet complains. “What a total bullshit call!”
I can’t help but snicker. Despite Violet’s mild-mannered personality, all bets are off when it comes to sports. She’s got a competitive streak a few kilometers wide.
The referee makes a motion with his hands, and Peyton gives me a blank stare. “Okay, what’s that whistle for?”
“It’s a hooking penalty,” I tell her. “The ref says that John Breaker, the Wolverines captain, hooked the Ottawa player with his stick.”
“Because the ref needs effing glasses!” Violet hollers.
I shoot her an amused look. “Little kids around, remember?”
“Effing is an acceptable word,” she mutters.
“So what happens now?” Peyton asks me.
“Breaker has to go sit in the penalty box for two minutes, so that leaves the team shorthanded. It will be five-on-four hockey until he comes back out.”
Ottawa is all over the Wolverine’s zone during their power play. It almost feels like they have seven of their guys out there and not five. They circle like sharks, trying to set up a play. One of Ottawa’s defensemen takes a blistering shot from the blue line, and their forward, who’s standing right in the slot, deflects the puck past the goaltender and into the Wolverines net.
The red light comes on, and the crowd lets out a collective groan of defeat.
“Motherfucker!” Peyton yells. “No!”
We might just turn her into a sports fan yet.
Violet sinks back into her seat. “Well, that totally sucks.”
“Power play goal,” I grumble. “Motherfucker is right.”
The crowd remains silent during the last minute of the period until the buzzer sounds.
“There’s only one period left, right?” Peyton asks.
“Yeah,” I reply. I wonder what kind of talk the Coach will give the Wolverines back in the locker room to fire them up. I’d hate for Will’s first call up to end in a loss, but that’s the nature of the game. You can’t win them all.
My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it from my pocket and see Sully’s name on the screen.
Sully: You guys up for Grano’s Steakhouse after this? Want to take Will out to celebrate.
Me: Yeah, we’re up for it. You paying?
Sully: Yeah, I am. I fucking owe him big time. And
I guess I owe you, too. So my treat. We’ll meet you at your section after the game. Just stay there.
I smile down at the phone. When Sully came over to talk to me yesterday, he apologized and said he was going to apologize to Will, too. We talked for a long time, and he even admitted how ashamed he was for what he did to Will.
He used every connection he had to get us seats close to the glass for this game. It was important to him that Will knew we were here. When he came over with the tickets in hand on game day, I’d cried. He’d paid so much money but didn’t even blink an eye. He told me that’s what family does—you’re there for each other no matter what. So I got to work making my sign, went out and bought the cigars, and got my custom jersey made.
I still have no idea what got into Sully, but he told me he’d back off if Will and I wanted to be together. Even though according to him it was still “really fucking weird,” but he wanted the two most important people in his life to be happy, and he wasn’t going to stand in our way. I told him what happened at Glyka and said I wasn’t sure anything would happen, because I wasn’t sure how Will felt about me. He’d gotten an odd expression on his face, but repeated that if we ended up together, he wouldn’t stand in our way.
Judging by the look on Will’s face earlier, I think he’ll be up for accepting Sully’s apology. At least I hope so, because having two of my favorite people at war has been utter hell on all of us.
Me: Thanks, brother. Now they just gotta win this game.
Sully: They’ll come back. They’re getting chances.
He’s right, but will they be able to capitalize on those chances?
We got our answer with five minutes remaining in the third period.
There’ve been so many times during the past fifteen minutes where the Wolverines came within a hair’s breadth of scoring, but Ottawa’s goalie is practically standing on his head, making save after impossible save.
On one shot, a Wolverines forward hit the crossbar, and the loud clink reverberated through the entire arena along with the frustrated groans of the crowd.
Two minutes later, another one of our forwards fired a shot and hit the post. Another loud clink echoed off the metal, and the crowd let out a collective gasp of disappointment.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Someone’s got to score. I’m going to have an anxiety attack any second.”
“I’m already there,” Peyton says, shooting me a dejected look. “I can’t stand it.”
“They’re gonna score, I can feel it,” Violet says, leaning forward. “I just know it.”
The crowd begins chanting “Wol-ver-ines! Wol-ver-ines!” so loudly that a woman nearby covers her toddler’s ears with her hands.
Will’s line hits the ice flying, and even I can sense their desperation to get a puck into the back of the net.
Will goes deep into the corner to battle for the puck and, after a few moments of struggling, snatches it away and passes to his center, Decker McCulvey, who’s waiting behind Ottawa’s net.
McCulvey slides the puck around the back of the net and wraps it around the post, slipping it neatly past Ottawa’s goalie, who can’t get over fast enough to stop it with his skate.
The red light goes on, the horn blares, and the crowd rises as one, yelling and pumping their fists.
“Oh my God! Will gets the assist!” I scream, leaping to my feet. “He gets the assist!”
Peyton jumps into the air and pumps her fist, and Violet grabs me around the waist. We jump up and down, screaming and beating on the glass in excitement as Will and his line mates skate over and attack McCulvey with celebratory hugs and fist bumps.
Will’s smile is so big. He looks so happy at this moment that it brings tears to my eyes. I’m so incredibly proud of him. When I hear, “Assisted by number fourteen, Will Maverick” come over the sound system, my tears spill over and flow down my cheeks.
I wish his parents could’ve seen their son tonight. They would have been so proud.
“You’re such a sap,” Peyton says, grinning as I wipe my tears away.
“I can’t help it,” I say, half-laughing, half-crying. “I’m so happy.”
“Are we going to overtime?” Peyton asks, looking up at the clock. “There’s only two minutes left.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I tell her.
But we don’t have to wait very long. With 28 seconds left on the clock, John Breaker seals the Wolverine’s victory with a beautiful wrist shot directly in front of Ottawa’s net.
As the horn blares again and we leap to our feet for the second time, I’m confident we’re getting out of here with a win.
Once play resumes, the last few seconds pass by in a blur. The horn blares a final time, signaling the victory. Fans are on their feet, shouting and showing their love as the Wolverines head down the ice to congratulate their goaltender.
I sink into my seat, exhausted and overwhelmed as the crowd slowly heads up the stairs toward the exit.
Violet reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Now the real celebration can begin. I can’t wait until we can finally see him.”
I manage a nod as Violet and Peyton chatter excitedly to each other about the game.
I’ve given myself a million pep talks over the past 24 hours, telling myself that if Will doesn’t have the same feelings for me as I do for him, it will still all be okay. I’ll find a way to be his friend. I’ll make it work somehow, because I need him in my life.
But deep down, I know that’s a lie. If Will decides he wants nothing more than friendship, my heart will break all over again. It’s already battered and bruised from the drama of the past two months, and I’m not sure how much more it can take.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILL
“Good game, boys!”
“Fuckin’ right, that’s the way.”
“That’s how we do it!”
The comments come fast and furious from my teammates as we head back to the locker room after beating Ottawa, 2-1.
The skill of these guys, especially the ones who’ve been playing at this level for years, is really something to behold. For the first few minutes of the game, I needed to consciously remind myself to focus and not freak the fuck out that I was playing with a few of my hockey heroes.
Despite being nervous as hell during my first shift and not getting a ton of ice time, I made sure to make every minute count. Getting an assist during my first call-up was the icing on the already fan-fucking-tastic cake. I’m flying so high I’m not sure I’ll ever come down.
John Breaker stops in front of my stall after Coach Valen gives us a short post-game talk.
“Great game tonight, Maverick.”
I can’t hide my grin. “I’m just happy to help out.”
“You did good, kid.” He gives me a nod before walking back over to his stall, where reporters swoop in to get their post-game sound bites.
I still can’t believe this. John Breaker, one of the best players in the entire league, just told me I did a good job. It’s crazy.
A few minutes later, some of the reporters that cover the Smoke want to talk about my assist and my call-up to the Wolverines. I answer a few questions before they move on to one of my teammates.
I hurry through my shower, anxious to get it over with so I can text Emmy. I’m sure she’s still here, along with everyone else. If I know the guys, they’re not going to leave without congratulating me.
When I finish, I make my way to the dressing room. I quickly change into my suit and then grab my phone from my locker and text Emmy.
Me: Are you guys still here?
Emmy: Yep. We’re outside of the players’ parking garage. Do you want to go out for a post-game meal with us? Sully said he’s paying.
I grin down at my phone. If Sully’s dragging out his wallet, then he must really feel bad. I’m going to take full advantage of it too and order the most expensive damn meal on the menu.
Me: Sounds great.
Emmy: G
ood.
Me: Em?
Emmy: Yes?
Me: Thank you. You made tonight perfect.
Emmy: I’m proud of you. See you soon.
I talk to a few of my teammates on my way out of the arena, and they congratulate me again on my assist. I’m still not sure if I’ll be back for another game, but all I know is that this stint made me even hungrier to get to this league. And the only way to make that happen is to keep working hard every single day.
I finally arrive at the players’ parking garage and look around for everyone. Emmy, Sully, and the rest of my friends are standing with a large group of fans at the open garage door. I talk with a security guard nearby, and he radios over to the guard manning the gate. The guard waves them through a moment later.
“Maverick with the assist!” Axel hollers, pumping his fist in the air and doing a silly victory dance. He holds his hand up and high-fives me. Sully and Dylan clap me on the back as Violet and Peyton attack me with congratulatory hugs.
“Hey, you look great in your suit,” Peyton says, looking me up and down. “So GQ.”
I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing. The last time I saw Peyton, I’m pretty sure she wanted to feed me my balls for breakfast. I guess she’s forgiven me, or she’s a little tipsy. Maybe both.
Emmy stands behind the group, holding her rolled up signs. She smiles, but she looks a little stressed. As happy as I am to see my friends, I wish I could have some time alone with her. We really need to talk, but this isn’t the right time for an intense conversation.
“I can’t believe you guys all came,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t expect that at all.”
“We wouldn’t ever miss this,” Sully says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No way. No matter what, Mav.”
I nod at him, seeing the regret in his eyes.
“Really, Sully? No matter that you’ve been an ass to Will for months? No matter that you rearranged his face at the cottage?” Peyton quips. “No matter even that?”
Unbreakable Page 20