Seduced by the Game

by editor Lisa Hollett

  Eddie Masters, the head trainer, stopped right in front of me. His eyes were focused on Scotty behind me. “We’re taking him out of the game for concussion protocol. We’ll know more later.”

  “Yeah. Right,” Scotty said. “Fuck.” He looked up and down the bench, and the two assistant coaches came over to him. “I don’t want to screw with Zee’s line. They’ve been working together too well lately.”

  Good. That was my line. Zee, Soupy, and I had made up the second line for big stretches of the last two seasons. I was pretty sure all three of us liked it that way, too.

  “What about moving Kally up to take Luddy’s place on the top line?” Hammer suggested. They’d had Kally skating on the third line this game, but he’d been all over the place while they tried to find a good fit for him, to find someone he could have chemistry with and get him scoring again…pretty much everywhere but the top line.

  Scotty dragged a hand over his face. “He hasn’t scored a fucking goal since he got here.” He grabbed the clipboard from Hammer, scouring it with his eyes. You could almost see the way he was trying to piece together line combinations in his head.

  “What better options do we have?” Hammer said. “At least for the rest of the game, and then we’ll see what happens with Luddy. Besides, he and RJ are familiar with each other.” RJ had taken over as the top-line center when they’d made the trade sending Sergei Ivanov and Pavel Spanov to the Islanders.

  I didn’t know if those two, Kally and RJ, had played together much when they were with the Islanders—at least not since Kally had stopped scoring—but they’d at least watched each other a lot for the last few years. That could help with knowing what the other guy would do.

  “Yeah. Fine.” Scotty didn’t look too thrilled, but he didn’t have much time to debate it right now—the ref was heading over to the bench to speed things along. “Kally, you’ll be with RJ and Eller now. Jonny, you’re moving up to Hank’s line. Let’s put this one away for Luddy.”

  He gave Zee a nod, and so he, Soupy, and I headed out for the next face-off. We were up two to one halfway through the third. Keeping this Colorado team limited to a single goal was a pretty rare feat. They tended to score early and often, which was a good thing for them since they had problems on the defensive side of things.

  We really ought to have scored more against them to this point, though, considering how leaky their defense could be. The less time that remained on the clock, the more desperate they were getting to score. Our one-goal lead wasn’t likely to hold up, but we needed to get the full two points for a regulation win tonight since we were tied with them in the playoff standings with less than a month remaining in the regular season.

  The officials were set to drop the puck in our offensive zone, but Colorado had sent Zack Carson and his line out to take the face-off. Carson had owned Zee on the dot all night.

  Zee motioned all of us over to him before we lined up, including Andrew Jensen and Keith Burns, our top two defensemen. “I have no chance of pulling it back. Not tonight. I’m going forward with it, straight for the net.”

  “Right,” Soupy said. “So be ready for rebounds.”

  “Exactly.”

  We got into position, with me on Zee’s right and Soupy on his left. If I could get past the Colorado D, I would be the first player to the crease. They should be expecting me to go to the middle and try to help Zee fish the puck out with all the difficulties he’d been having tonight.

  Even though I knew Zee planned to shoot it on the net, he could have fooled me. The way he was holding his stick, it looked like he had every intention of winning possession the traditional way and letting our D set up our attack. I tried not to grin and give anything away, but everyone knew I didn’t have a poker face.

  I got lucky that the linesman didn’t mess around with dropping the puck—I didn’t have to try to keep a straight face for very long. Zee shot it forward just like he’d planned and confused the Colorado D. Soupy and I both got past our guys. I got to the side of the net just after their goaltender made a kick save. Too bad for him he kicked it out right onto the tape of my stick.

  He was still sprawled on the ice from the save, so I roofed the puck. It went in just over the goalie’s glove and under the crossbar.

  “That was a fucking beauty,” Soupy shouted at me over the dual roars of the crowd and the goal horn.

  We all skated over to the bench and got fist bumps from the guys. Scotty gave us a nod so we stayed out for the next face-off.

  Now Colorado was really pushing back. Their forwards were skilled, speedy, and determined even during their worst games, and tonight wasn’t anything close to that. For the next several minutes, we were barely keeping our heads above water. If not for Nicky making one ridiculous save after another, they would have easily tied the game and moved ahead of us.

  They hadn’t, though, despite the fact that we were spending a hell of a lot more time in our own end than was good for us.

  With only a couple of minutes left, RJ’s line managed to clear the puck out of the zone so they could get off for a line change. Scotty shouted for my line to replace them. I was halfway on the ice when Colorado sent the puck careening back in. It hit Kally’s skate. I had to hold myself dangling over the boards so we didn’t get called for having too many men on the ice.

  He shot it back to the other end and got onto the bench, and I was able to drop down to my skates finally.

  They didn’t waste any time retrieving the puck again and driving into our zone. As soon as they got set up, their goaltender headed for the bench so they could bring on an extra attacker. The way Colorado cycled the puck, it was like they were putting on a passing clinic. We couldn’t quite catch up to them. Every time we’d prevent a pass one direction, they’d find a seam going the other way.

  A hard pass to the point. I dropped to block the shot, and it hit off my shin and bounced right back to their D. The point-man sent it to the half-wall, then to the other defenseman streaking in for a back door opportunity. Nicky made the stop, but he couldn’t control the rebound. Colorado retrieved it again and kept the pressure on.

  We needed a whistle. Colorado kept cycling the puck, kept us chasing them for so long we were just trying to suck in air and not blow the game.

  They sent the puck back to the other point. He passed it straight to the guy I was covering, who had his stick cocked for a one-timer. I squared up to block it, and this time it hit my skate. The puck sailed between both defenders and out of the zone.

  They spun around to chase it, but I somehow found another gear despite my exhaustion. I beat them to it at center ice.

  I took a swing.

  The puck went in the net.

  The Moda Center went berserk.

  After that, with a three-goal lead, it was pretty much just a matter of running down the clock without giving them anything. My line headed back to the bench, and Hammer gave me a solid whack on the back of my helmet. “Nice work, Babs,” he said. “Fucking right.”

  I was watching the action on the ice when Soupy elbowed me and pointed to a group of girls in the front row behind the penalty boxes. They were all wearing skimpy tops and looked so young I wondered why they didn’t have dads like Webs running guys off. Each of them held a sign up to the glass.

  Be my prom date, Jamie.

  Tiegan + Jamie = 4Eva.

  My Goal: Make a Storm with Jamie Babcock.

  There were probably half a dozen more than that, too. I’d started ignoring the signs about a week into my rookie season; they were only a distraction. The boys never let me off the hook about it, though. Soupy and Zee kept trying to get me to auction myself off as a prom date for charity or some shit like that.

  “Fuck off,” I said to Soupy.

  He laughed. “You could have your pick of them. I’m sure they’d all be thrilled to go to prom with you if you’d rather take one of them than Katie.”

  There wasn’t a girl in the world I’d rather do anything with tha
n Katie Weber, and he fucking knew it. Hell, apparently everyone knew it, judging by my earlier conversation with Kally. If they hadn’t known it before this morning when she’d had her dad shave her hair off and I could barely hold it together, they all knew it now. I hadn’t been able to look away, hadn’t been able to hide anything I’d felt while watching it.

  No poker face.

  The horn sounded, marking the end of the game.

  I couldn’t get down the tunnel fast enough.

  Maddie Shaw had latched on to me a few months ago when we first found out I was sick, and it didn’t look like that was going to change now, even though I looked like an alien. Granted, she had always been a little different than most other little girls, or most people I knew, for that matter, so I didn’t ever count on her reaction being what I should expect.

  Maddie was Rachel Shaw’s eight-year-old daughter. Rachel and Soupy were engaged and living together these days, plus Rachel worked for the Storm’s GM, so I saw Maddie and her brother Tuck all the time—even more than usual now that I wasn’t in school. They both had this bright red hair and a lot of freckles just like their mom, but that was where the similarities between the two kids ended.

  Tuck was a few years younger than his sister, but he reminded me a lot more of myself, at least when I wasn’t sick—full of energy, completely outgoing, and into everything and then some. As far as I could tell, the kid had never met a stranger, and he had a unique knack for getting everyone to like him.

  Maddie was shy and quiet, though. She liked to stick to herself and read a book more than anything, or maybe talk with one or two people—but almost never kids her age. It was a lot more common for me to find her having a deep conversation with an adult than playing with another kid.

  Maybe that was why she liked me—because even though I was technically still one of the kids in the Storm family, I was also one of the adults.

  The last few weeks, I was gladder than ever that Maddie liked to hang out in a quiet corner. Chemo drained me, completely zapping all the life out of me. I didn’t always have the energy to even talk much, especially late in the day when most of the Storm’s games took place. By then, I was often talked out, and I could count on her to be off in a corner with a book and to welcome me in. But she always let be if I needed to just sit quietly.

  That was what had happened tonight. When Mom and I had gotten up to the owner’s box for the game, Maddie had been in her usual spot—in the opposite corner from all the other kids and their noise—with her nose buried in a book. She’d smiled when I sat down next to her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that all my hair was gone and I had a stupid scarf covering my head to help keep it warm. “Want to share my blanket?” she’d asked.

  I’d taken her up on the blanket. I was always cold these days, whether it was actually cold wherever I was or not.

  That was exactly how we remained after the game, both of us cozy beneath the blanket, when I heard Jamie’s voice behind me. I’d been expecting Dad and the other guys who had families watching the game up here to arrive sometime soon, but I hadn’t been expecting Jamie. These days, he usually just headed straight for wherever the team was going for dinner along with the other single guys.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I whipped my head around to stare at him. He’d paused to talk to the kids near the entrance, especially Tuck, who thought Jamie was the best thing since Candy Crush. He had on a suit with a skinny tie like the Swedish players all preferred. Liam Kallen’s fashion sense must be rubbing off on him now that they were living together. All the guys wore suits to and from their games—league dress code—but tonight Jamie hadn’t taken the time to dry or style his hair like he usually did before leaving. It was wet and slicked back, which somehow only made him more perfect in my eyes. Thank God he hadn’t shaved his hair off. I wouldn’t have been able to see him like this if he had, and that would have been a travesty.

  I had to get myself together.

  Maddie put down her book and spun her head in the same direction. “Mr. Jamie had a good game tonight.”

  “Yeah, he did.” I forced myself to turn around in my seat and look at Maddie instead of gawking at Jamie like a stupid teenager. He had more than enough teenaged girls staring at him all the time. He didn’t need me to do it, too.

  She was still looking over her shoulder at him, though. After a minute, she looked at me and grinned. “He’s coming to talk to you. I have to go tell Mommy something.” That was all the warning Maddie gave me. She got up from her seat, took her book, left me the blanket, and pranced away.

  “Hi, Maddie. Bye, Maddie,” Jamie said behind me.

  My heartbeat stuttered.

  What was he doing? After what had happened in the locker room this morning, he must have lost his mind to even think about coming near me. Dad was already emotional, and these days he was on high alert with everything concerning me. It wasn’t like Jamie Babcock wanted anything more than just friendship, though—not that Dad would care about that. Still, it would be a lot better for Jamie to just stay away from me right now.

  But he didn’t.

  Jamie moved between me and the chair in front of me, smiling in that way that brought out his dimples and made me tingle everywhere. “Hi, Katie. Mind if I sit with you for a minute?”

  I checked over my shoulder. A few more of the guys had made it upstairs now, but Dad still wasn’t among them. “I don’t know if that’s smart,” I said. “My dad—”

  “He won’t be happy,” Jamie interrupted. “I know. I’d still like to talk to you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, mainly because I couldn’t tell him no. I wanted him to be next to me. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to let myself imagine he could feel for me even half of what I felt for him. I wanted so many things that would lead to Dad killing him. Maybe it was selfish of me to give in so easily, but I didn’t have it in me to stop myself right now. Who knew cancer made you selfish?

  He sat down in the seat Maddie had just vacated. His arm brushed against mine, and I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” He adjusted my blanket before I could answer, drawing it up close to my shoulders. His knuckles brushed against my chin, and he snapped his hand away like I’d scalded him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  I hated that he felt like he had to apologize for touching me, especially since he was just doing something nice. “It’s all right,” I said, unable to stop my smile. I was pretty sure I was blushing, too, and for a moment I wondered if my scalp would be all red like my cheeks when I blushed. “Dad didn’t see.”

  “Yeah. Right.” Jamie chuckled. He leaned over in his seat, resting his forearms on his thighs with his hands together. Then he sat up suddenly. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what Kally said at lunch. About how you should go to your prom. He’s right.”

  I shook my head, trying to keep my hot tears at bay. Enough with the stupid crying, already! I couldn’t go to prom. Not with my bald, alien head—whether I wore a scarf to cover it or not. The kids at school weren’t like Dad’s teammates, and they weren’t like Maddie Shaw. Teenagers could be unbelievably cruel. The second I walked in looking like this, I’d be mocked right back out the door, and I’d never live it down. I just wanted to hide away from them until I finished chemo and my hair grew back and I could pretend none of it had ever happened, and maybe even longer than that since they’d all forgotten I existed.

  “Don’t say no. Think about it.”

  “I am thinking about it. I’m thinking about how they’ll all laugh. How they’ll make fun of me because of my bald head. I’m thinking about how no one would want to go with me.” As soon as they’d heard the word cancer, all my supposed friends had turned all weird. They’d dropped me like it was contagious or something, like they could catch leukemia from spending time with me. Mom kept saying that it was just that they didn’t know how to be around me anymore, that they were scared and that teenagers just weren’t equipped to handle some things that life throws at you. I didn’t buy it. “
I’m not going,” I said emphatically.

  “I wouldn’t say no one would want to go with you.”

  The look Jamie was giving me stole my breath and made my stomach flutter, but not like it always seemed to do lately when I was going to be sick. This was night and day from that—all crazy electricity and jangling nerves, kind of exciting instead of gross and sick feeling.

  “Don’t tease me,” I said. I scrunched myself up in my seat, trying to put a little distance between us.

  I wasn’t the only one who’d fallen head over heels for him pretty much the day he’d arrived in Portland. So had at least half the single girls here between the ages of ten and thirty.

  He’d always been nice to me, but he was nice to everyone. If someone needed help, Jamie Babcock was the first person to notice it and do whatever was needed. Even when he’d been about to shave his head this morning, it was just because he was a nice guy.

  I’d never really let myself believe anything would come from the friendship we had, even if I’d been daydreaming about him—and more than daydreaming—for two full hockey seasons now. “Don’t make me wish for things that aren’t ever going to happen. It’ll ruin my image of you.”

  “I’m not teasing you. I want to take you to your prom.” He reached out as though to take my hand, but I looked at him like he was crazy and he pulled his back. “They won’t laugh if I’m with you.”

  It didn’t sound like he was being arrogant. He was just stating a truth, and he was probably right. They wouldn’t make fun of me. They’d be jealous, which would be yet another reason for them to talk about me behind my back.

  I shook my head. “If you really want to take some girl to prom, I’m sure you won’t have any problems finding a taker. You could have your pick of all those girls with the signs.”

  “I don’t want to take some girl to prom. I don’t want to take one of the girls with the signs. I don’t want to auction myself off for charity to be some lovesick girl’s prom date. I want to take you.”

  “But…why?” came out of my mouth before I could think better of it. Because I might very well be one of those lovesick girls he was talking about, even if I didn’t bring signs to the games. And if he took me to my prom, you can bet it would feel to me like he was just doing it because he’s a good guy.