Page 40 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)
Tourists
ATTICUS
F resh off a win in the charity tournament, everyone is in a good pre-game mood in the locker room.
I send Lucy a picture from earlier today before clicking off as Coach Jackson walks to the middle of the locker room for his pep talk.
Like a bunch of middle school kids on a field trip, a group of us took the ferry over to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island this morning.
It was actually really moving. I never went as a kid.
There was a New York City field trip in high school, but I was so wrapped up in hockey there was no way I could take four days to do tourist shit.
And now I have group photos of me, Kellen, Harley, Lachlan, and freaking Barrett Steele in front of the Statue of Liberty, taken on the ferry by an attractive middle-aged woman who definitely didn’t know who we were but stared at the group of us with wide eyes.
Barrett kept staring at her like he wanted to gobble her up.
Maybe the kid’s got a thing for older women.
Coach Jackson launches into a speech about working together, staying motivated, skating hard, and the weaknesses of the other team. He wraps up with the lineups for the game, as he always does.
I half zone out, as there aren’t usually surprises or major shifts.
“First line offense: Kellen in center, Atticus as right wing, Barrett as left wing. Starting defensive line is Lachlan and Jasper.”
Oh, shit.
A heavy silence settles on the room and seems to stretch unnaturally long. Not that we weren’t respectfully listening before, but starting the game with Barrett in Harley’s place on the first line?
Everyone takes a pause at that.
Fucking intense.
During last night’s game, things were as they usually are, with the exception of Barrett on the second line in place of Armas. I thought we were good to keep status quo.
I sneak a sideways glance at Harley. He’s watching coach with a stony face and arms crossed on his broad chest. He’s usually a bit more relaxed than this, but Harley takes everything very seriously.
He never cracks a grin during pregame speeches or steals a look at his phone. He’s dead focused on his career.
And his relationship.
All that seems to be falling apart. Dude must be freaking out inside.
Coach warned us he’d be trying out new lineups and strategies during these games. I guess I didn’t really believe he’d swap Harley down.
“Second line offense: Finn is center, Rhys right wing, and Harley left wing.”
I shake my head subtly as Coach goes through the rest of his speech. I can’t focus on the Harley issue right now. Maybe I’ll try to talk to him about it over the weekend while we’re out in the city post-game, but he probably won’t want to.
Like last night, the crowd goes absolutely wild when Barrett is introduced onto the ice. I guess I’m not surprised. He’s top talent and quite the fan favorite, I guess because of his good looks, arrogance, and famously promiscuous behavior.
The game starts and it’s absolute bliss being on the ice playing a game again. Summer offseason is needed and appreciated, but this is where I want to be. On the ice fighting for the puck and kicking other players’ asses.
The crowd is mixed—some here to support their team, but some are just hockey fans taking advantage of a bunch of different NHL teams being in the city at the same time. It’s a fun, high-energy environment.
We look good in the first period, and the other team is not prepared for us.
I speed past one of their defenders and give him the slightest little nudge into the boards. He hits them with a completely over-exaggerated slam, and the crowd gets excited, their reaction to a potential fight over-the-top.
I don’t not know how to feed a hockey crowd.
Lachlan might be the one most likely to start something on the ice, but I’m right behind him. I tend to get in slightly less trouble than the Aussie, enough that the attention is usually on him, so I mostly slip under the ref’s radar.
Two of their defenders come at me from either side, probably as revenge, and when they slam into me, my stick goes flying into the air.
Fuuuck.
I skate forward with momentum, my eyes up as my stick spins and I just know it’ll hit the ground right behind me. But then Barrett fucking Steele swoops in like a knight in shining armor and gracefully catches it by the edge of the blade.
The crowd loses its collective mind as I slow so he can skate past me, handing me the stick with a smirk on his face. I cannot help grinning back as I nod to him.
That was a slick fucking move.
Kellen gets the puck to me a second later and I strike, easily scoring past their goaltender, who must’ve been lazing around all summer to be that slow. And he doesn’t even have Augustus’s tan.
I chuckle and skate away from the net.
Coach swaps us for the second line and I tap Harley’s stick as we pass each other. He nods at me and skates out, looking strong and motivated on the ice.
The first period ends, and we have a fifteen-minute break in the locker room. Score is 1-0 and the feeling in the room is light and positive. I’m not the only one loving being back on the ice.
“Alright, listen up,” Coach barks. “You’re doing well out there, but keep it together. This is the time to figure out what’s working, and for fuck’s sake, fix what’s not. We want to take both games and let everyone know we’re the best team in the league.”
There are grunts and shouts in the room.
Ten minutes into the second period, the Vegas Golden Nights are skating angry. They’re hammering away at Grayson and Elias, our second line defense. Augustus makes a huge glove save on a short-handed breakaway.
But then Lach—bless his short-fused soul—gets pissed when someone checks Augustus. He tackles their center forward, football player style. Completely illegal. The crowd goes absolutely wild and I do a swan dive to join in. Barrett Steele is right behind me.
It’s a beautiful thing.
Fuck anyone who dares lay a hand on our goaltender. Augustus is a goddamn team treasure.
I love hockey.
Lachlan gets sent to the penalty box for two minutes but we kill the penalty, and as soon as he’s back, I watch Rhys from the second line bury our second goal of the game.
Textbook backdoor tap-in that was only possible because of Harley’s skilled moves getting their defenders to follow him, and then threaded a perfect cross to Rhys for the finish.
It’s thirty seconds before the end of the second period that I take a hard fall after a check from the other team’s right wing.
I feel something in my groin—a twinge that reminds me of when I got hurt last season. I panic as I stand and get back in the game, but our defense immediately lets in a second goal and the period ends.
I’m not sure anyone even notices, and I try to quell the terror building inside of me as I follow my teammates into the locker room. I grab a sports drink and chug it, my back to my team. If Kellen or Lachlan—or even freaking Barrett—spots me, they’ll know I’m crashing out.
My breath is catching in my throat. Fuck me. I’m afraid to even stretch and check for damage. I down the entire drink, then reach into my bag for my phone. There’s a meditation app that might help calm me down. Not that I’ve ever used it, but I at least downloaded it.
That’s when I see the text messages.
Raleigh
Hey, I saw you go down. Are you okay? You’ve worked so hard on your recovery this summer, I hope you’re not freaking out. But remember, it’s probably all in your head. Not that you’re imagining it! But… didn’t your skating coach tell you it’s all a mental game at this point?
Go check in with one of the trainers
I’m sorry, I know I have no right to even message you, and you probably won’t even see this until later
Good luck, Atticus
Oh.
Yeah. Okay. I should go talk to someone. Obviously. I turn around and catch the eye of one of the athletic trainers, and he comes over right away .
Fifteen minutes later, I’m skating back onto the ice, given an all clear by the trainer after some targeted stretching.
I feel completely fine. I almost laugh with relief.
All thanks to Raleigh’s encouragement.
Harley almost scores in the third period, and I’m already cheering when the puck rings off the cross bar.
Fuck.
Kellen scores one more for the Blizzard, the other team scores, and we win the game 3-2. The crowd goes wild.
Now that I’m off the ice, my thoughts rush back to Raleigh.
Coach gives us a final pep talk, reminding us to work out and get your asses in better shape before preseason practices start in September. He reminds us that we’ll continue informal practices and workouts in August for anyone who is around.
“Buses will take those of you who are heading home to the Blizzard plane right away. For those of you staying here for the weekend or longer—try to behave yourselves, alright?” There are chuckles around the room.
A big group of players are staying in New York, not just me, Lachlan, Barrett, and Harley.
Guys shuffle in and out of the showers, and Kellen pulls me aside before heading to the team bus.
“You sure you want to stay?” He furrows his brow.
“Why would I not stay?” I don’t mean the words to have an edge to them, but they do. “I don’t have shit to do in Fort Collins.”
Kellen assesses me calmly and raises his eyebrows. I can only imagine what he’d say if he knew about Raleigh’s texts.
I don’t even know what to think about that.
“Lucy tells me Raleigh isn’t leaving until Monday,” he says, his voice slow and steady and heavy with implication.
“Cool.” I knew that, kind of. I’ve heard that she’s selling the Pink Palace and giving Megghen to Bri and isn’t everything working out just perfectly for her?
Meanwhile, I’m a hot fucking mess.
Maybe not on the outside. But inside .
I’m in love with that woman, and she’s currently getting ready to leave Colorado to go back to her old life. Fuck. I wish I could get her to stay. I wish I could change her mind. I wish I had the nerve to try.