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“Why don’t you date girls your own age?” I nudge him with my stick. “Show them how you can fill the net.”
“They’re boring,” Cage says as if we should know. “Too clingy and predictable.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Remy teases, staring at Mase. “I’ve met some hotties who are barely even…legal.”
Mase turns to him sharply and shoves him. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Remy shrugs. “I’m not trying to score, bud.”
Probably because he already did. I smile, skating around the front of them, hitting my stick against Remy’s and then Mase’s. “He’s just trying to warm her up,” I point out and then run my hands up and down my stick suggestively.
Mase does not appreciate that one bit and shoves me back, his glare directed at Remy. “Sure you are.”
“Come on, man.” Remy laughs. “Is it really so bad if I light the lamp with her?”
This conversation will forever be a battle between these two.
I burst out laughing when Mase lunges for Remy. The sound of Remy’s skates chopping against the ice as he tries to outrun Mase is the best.
When we have Mase good and pissed, I move on to my next victim. I skate over to Ryan, provoking him like I do best as I sing along to the music. By the way, I’m a terrible singer.
Ryan rolls his eyes, skating the other way. “Fuck off.”
“You love me and you know it.” I twirl around, singing Justin Bieber into my stick.
Coach notices from his place along the boards.
“Orting!” My head shoots up, looking over at him. “There’s a game about to start. Are you aware of that?”
I point at him, winking. “I am, believe it or not.”
My eyes flick to the man standing next to Coach, our GM as of this year, Ed Pratt. I don’t like the fact that Callie’s dad is now the GM of our team, but it isn’t like I have a choice in the matter. He’s an abrasive asshole.
I know well enough that if he didn’t think trading me would piss off the entire organization and Chicago, he would do it. We don’t get along. I bet, no, I know it has to do with Callie. I wonder if he knows she’s pregnant with my kid.
And the thought of him finding out makes me smile, knowing he isn’t going to be pleased.
I’ll probably be traded.
* * *
When the game starts up,control passes over to the Penguins off the drop. Play is sloppy, and possession changes happen every few seconds. Ten minutes into the game, and with an assist from me, Remy scores a goal with a wrist shot.
Not happy with the goal, the Penguins get chirpy. I give their defenseman a face full of my glove, and he shoves me back into Mase. “Stay out of this,all-star,” another D-man says, shoving me back as well.
“Your face asked my hand for a high five. It was like, ‘it’s been so long, great to see you again,’” I tell him, grinning. “You didn’t hear it? I did.”
Mase looks away from us, barely able to control his laughter.
“Drop your gloves.” The Penguins left winger shoves Mase back into Cage and Remy, both laughing as we argue at the crease. He’s all talk right now, but younevershove Mase and expect him to forget it.
“I’m dropping ’em. You first, baby.” Mase winks and moves his stick, tapping the Penguins defenseman in the balls.
The ref rushes forward, pushing the two of them apart and me away completely. “Knock it off, boys.”
Mase grins, trying to make us laugh as he glances over at me, and then Remy, a childlike amusement to his tone. “I tapped his dick.”
“I said knock it off.” The ref pushes Mase forward, away from the Penguins bench. So far, Mase is in good spirits, but I see it in his eyes. Nothing matters more to us, to these fans, than the win. That smile can be dropped in a heartbeat if he’s asked to defend us.