Page 10 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

Physically sitting on the bench wasn’t an option. He didn’t want his mind distracted with random self-pitying thoughts of sitting there as a player, so he chose to stand behind it.

“Their goalie is weaker high on his left side.”

“Get out of your fucking head and keep your eyes on Theriault before he puts you on your ass.”

“Look where you want the puck to go and put it there. Stop doubting and pass.”

The players on Arlo’s team were like lost sheep. They were star-struck with Fraser on the ice as an opponent, but Killinger was happy to steer them in the right direction.

He would do anything it took to fuck with Fraser, and it would piss off that Mike guy too.

Win-win.

But Harrison would be the first to admit that watching Fraser was like watching poetry on ice.

He was smaller than most of the players there today, but he was so light on his feet that it made for a dangerous combination.

There was a lot of power in his legs; he was capable of monstrous bursts of speed that could have him clearing ice faster than the taller players.

His stick-handling was consistent and accurate, and with him playing center, he was getting the puck in the net more often than not.

This game wasn’t a shutout because Arlo was playing just as hard as Fraser.

And although their play styles varied, Arlo was as good as Mr. NHL, if not better.

This was a high-scoring game. They were down to the last 12 minutes in third with the score tied 8-8, and Harrison was determined to watch Arlo skate away with the win.

It was time to change things up.

“You look like you’re having fun bossing people around,” Arlo hollered over the screaming spectators as he collapsed onto the bench. “Gates keeps whining because he thinks having you coaching us is an unfair advantage.”

“Then tell Gates that I’ll give him a quarter after the game and he can use it to call someone who fucking cares,” said Harrison.

He knocked on one of the helmets in front of him, spooking the youngest player on the team wearing it.

“Frost, you and Smith will take the next shift with Townsend. I don’t want the puck to leave your damn stick unless you’re passing it to him, got it? ”

Frost was smart enough to nod quickly and not question him. The kid had been playing defence the whole game, but Harrison didn’t think the position suited him, not when he could magically wrangle the puck from his opponent and move it forward with such ease.

Harrison ignored Arlo’s raised eyebrow to avoid the rising urge to rip it off his face and smack him with it. It was a recurring facial expression that Arlo kept using whenever he sat down on the bench for his break.

And to annoy him further, Fraser chose that moment to skate by his bench and smile at him.

Harrison tapped his finger against his iWatch, hoping he got the message across loud and clear.

“I’m still waiting to see you pull off the Killinger move you told me you perfected.”

Fraser frowned.

Message received .

When Fraser’s team made a play that tipped the puck into the net, Arlo returned to the ice with Frost and Smith not far behind him.

It was a big line change, but Harrison knew he had been right about the Frost kid when he stole the puck from Mike and took off like a bullet.

He and Smith skated down the ice, pushing past the defence while passing the puck like they had been playing together for years.

Arlo was in the perfect position when Frost slapped the puck across the ice, delivering it to him with such precision that it took no effort for Arlo to slap it high above the goalie’s left shoulder.

The whole bench could hear Mike cursing over the buzzer, and Harrison didn’t bother hiding his smug smile when he turned his furious eyes on him and shouted something, but it was hard to hear over the cheers.

Fuck you maybe? Or maybe he said fuck off .

Harrison chuckled, but he stopped when Mike turned his anger on Fraser and gave him an angry shove, yelling something as he chased him to the bench.

He watched Fraser struggle to sit and drink from his water bottle while his captain gestured angrily. Mike was turning purple from all the yelling, and it was taking everything Harrison had not to walk over and use that bastard’s face as a punching bag.

It wouldn’t be his best moment, but it also wouldn’t be his worst.

Harrison only looked away from Fraser’s lashing when the buzzer went off, sending the people into a frenzy.

Arlo had put the puck in the net for the second time with three minutes left on the clock, and even though Fraser had barely had a chance to recover, Mike had him on the ice without any care for his health.

If Fraser walked away from this game injured because he couldn’t stand up for himself against an amateur like Mike, Harrison would kill him.

Both of them.

Fraser met his eyes from across the rink, and Harrison would have had to be blind to miss the determination in his gaze.

Yes .

Up until this point, they had been having fun. Fraser had been shooting him looks every time he scored, like a dog looking for praise after performing a trick. Harrison felt grounded in his skin as he watched Fraser skate, and Fraser’s need for approval was nothing short of addictive.

He didn’t even care when Fraser scored the next goal, leaving Arlo’s team with a 1-point lead. There wasn’t enough time on the clock for Team Fraser to make a comeback, unless he had someone other than Mike, who had made a point of being the only one allowed to assist Fraser.

He knew it. Fraser knew it. End game.

Harrison smiled at Fraser, giving him the praise he had wanted for that last goal. He thought he was being nice, but when Fraser looked at him and grinned back, he knew this wasn’t over.

Fraser and Arlo faced off, and Fraser knocked the puck to his right when it hit the ice, completely ignoring Mike in the scramble. Defence quickly attempted to block Fraser, but he signalled for the puck and caught the pass, narrowly avoiding having it stolen by Arlo.

Gates stopped Arlo before he could trip Fraser up, and that opening was enough for Fraser to use his speed and secure a breakaway.

The spectators were on their feet as Fraser flew down the ice, and their screaming was so loud that Harrison could feel the building shaking under his feet. Fraser was alone, and the goalie was locked in, but Harrison knew what was coming.

Fraser kept his eyes on the left side of the net and took his shot. The goalie slammed his body down on the ice, trying to stop a puck that wasn’t there.

No, because Fraser had feinted the shot, purposely sending the puck past the left side to force the goalie out. And if you had the right speed and angle, and a fuckton of luck, the puck would bounce back and—

Fraser slapped the puck toward the now open side of the net, and Harrison was sure his heart had seized in his chest until he heard the sound of rubber hitting metal at high speed.

Fraser’s aim had been off by an inch. The puck bounced off the pipe and rebounded toward Frost, who was ready to turn the play around.

He didn’t pass the blue line before the buzzer went off, ending the game with Team Arlo’s 1-point lead. Every person who hadn’t been on their feet was up, cheering so loudly that Harrison was sure he would go deaf.

Team Arlo was on the ice the next moment, helmets and gloves flying in every direction as they threw themselves at each other in celebration. Arlo was buried under them somewhere, and Harrison smiled when Frost received his fair share of ruffling and smacking around.

A lone player approached him on the ice, stopping beside the wall. Harrison knew it was Fraser without having to look, so he kept his eyes on Arlo as his cousin appeared from under a pile of sweaty hockey players.

“Perfected it, eh?”

He didn’t know if Fraser could hear him over the cheering that didn’t appear to be ending any time soon, but then he heard a loud laugh respond.

“It needs a little adjusting,” yelled Fraser. “I’ve kept testing new ways to make it better.”

Harrison ran his fingers through his beard, pretending to look lost in thought. “Well, it makes sense now that you wanted to change the name. Epic failures like that deserve recognition too.”

The players were leaving the ice, and the fans were settling down. Harrison saw Mike breaking his stick over his leg in anger, and he would have paid money to see that replayed over again on whatever News channel that recorded it.

“Mike seems happy,” said Harrison, finally looking at Fraser and rewarding him with a smile.

Fraser brightened at his unspoken praise, and Harrison was again struck by how gorgeous he was. Even with his blond curls soaked with sweat and his cheeks red from overexertion, he had to fight back the urge to touch him.

Fuck, what was he? A horny teenager?

He had never been this attracted to another guy in his life. He only existed to play hockey before, so dating and hookups were out of the question. In the five years after his accident, he had never bothered. It was too much work, and people were too fucking annoying.

And yet here he was, possibly the most annoying person in all of Nova Scotia, and Harrison wanted to grab him and kiss the stupid smile off his face.

“You’re proud and you know it,” said Fraser. “I impressed you. I can feel it.”

“If I’m proud of anyone here, it’s Arlo,” said Harrison. “You fumbled that last shot, and you lost the game. ”

Fraser was undeterred.

“I might have lost the game, but I bet I won your heart.” He winked at Harrison before trying to bolt away with a laugh, only to smack into Arlo, who had been skating toward them.

Harrison kept a straight face as he watched Arlo and Fraser untangle from each other, but when Fraser fled from the ice with his ears red, he couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Was he…hitting on you?” Arlo asked when Harrison’s laughter died, shooting confused looks in the direction Fraser had run off to.

“No, he was trying to get the final say because he’s a damn idiot,” said Harrison. He shook his head in disbelief. Fraser was a walking disaster. “Are you not leaving to get changed?”

Arlo’s complexion was pale, slowly turning green as he stood before Harrison. When the door to the bench opened and two men stepped inside, it was obvious what was going on.

One of the men he knew was Arlo’s coach, but the other was unknown and looked very self-important.

“Townsend,” said Coach Nash. “I want you showered and in my office in ten.”

Arlo turned greener, and he nodded. He looked like he was about to be told he couldn’t play hockey anymore, not that he was about to be told that he could play more hockey.

He left without saying goodbye to Harrison, keeping his head low to avoid meeting his coach’s gaze.

Coach let out a snort of disbelief. “Kids these days, no ambition.” He turned and motioned for the suit to follow, but the man ignored him and kept his attention on Harrison.

“Killinger, right?”

Harrison shrugged. “Sure.”

The man smiled nicely, but his tone was sharp when he spoke again. “I saw you make some calls today that put Townsend’s team in the position to win. Have you decided to take up coaching?”

“No.” Harrison was attempting to be on his best behaviour since this guy was about to talk to Arlo and possibly recruit him, and this is why he hated coming to watch games.

Someone always cornered him and tried to question him about his post-hockey life goals, like he was a phoenix that would rise from the ashes and somehow heal his broken body so he could get on the ice again.

“Shame,” said the man. “It would have been nice to see you back in the NHL in some capacity.”

And wasn’t that a kick in the chest?

Harrison said nothing as he watched the two men walk away. The ache in his leg was steadily worsening after standing, and the proximity to the ice, but he waited until they were gone before he took a seat on the bench and let his head fall into his hands.

People were lingering, but he didn’t care if they saw him. He was tired down to the metal rods in his bones, and he needed to leave before Fraser found him again, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Hello, Harrison Killinger? My name is Adam, and I’m from the local news station—”

“Fuck off.”