Page 33 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

Coach Adams pulled him aside after every game and made sure he knew that statistically, he could play better. And coming from the quiet and mathematical guy who never got angry, that was like taking a puck to the face.

His agent wasn’t helping his mood with her near-constant calls about everything from commercials to photoshoots, and that was his least favourite part of playing for the NHL.

Skating on the ice, getting into fights, scoring goals—those were the fun parts.

It was the celebrity side to the game that he hated.

He always felt awkward when he had to pose for a camera because the photographers liked to talk about how hot he was like he wasn’t standing in front of them, and it pissed him off.

And new…issues.

Jett now understood why Harrison hadn’t been interested in meeting him.

The number of times he had been asked about Harrison was driving him crazy.

Everyone wanted to know if they were childhood friends, neighbours, or rivals.

There was an insane amount of comparison, which Jett found unfair since Harrison hadn’t played one NHL game—he hadn’t even had a chance to step onto NHL ice.

But because of their game over the summer, where Harrison led his cousin to victory, rumours were circling. Jett dodged every question as best as he could, but it was exhausting .

Harrison was the only part of his day that made him feel better. Sometimes he locked Ryan out of the room just so they could share time alone, and more often than not, those conversations continued until Jett was sure Harrison was asleep and safe.

He couldn’t sleep himself unless he was certain Harrison was in his bed and not contemplating hurting himself. There hadn’t been another attempt, and Harrison admitted that the episodes didn’t happen often, but Jett still worried.

They flirted sometimes, and Jett quickly discovered how much Harrison liked to dirty talk, but he was fine with their decision not to do another video call. He was happier talking about what he was doing, the books he was reading, or how his day went, instead of having phone sex.

He felt closer to Harrison every day, but sometimes it felt pointless because he wasn’t there .

“I’m going to visit my parents,” said Harrison, the night before Jett’s opening game. “I won’t be able to call you tomorrow night, but I’ll be watching your game.”

The last shred of hope inside Jett died, but he quickly swallowed his disappointment. “That’s alright. I’m in Calgary anyway, so the time difference will make it difficult. I’ll text you updates and we can talk tomorrow, if you want.”

Harrison sighed. “Fucking Calgary. Sébastien Blanchard still has a spot on the Colts and he’s a giant dick. Keep your eye on him.”

“He doesn’t bother me,” said Jett. “Wolfy loves picking fights with him. Blanchard forgets all about me until I’m scoring behind his back.”

Harrison hummed.

“I hope it goes well with your parents,” said Jett. He didn’t want to end the call, but he needed to rest before the game. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“I do,” said Harrison. “Try to enjoy the game. I know you’ve been struggling lately, but I hope it means something when I say I like watching you play at your best. So, get your shit together, Fraser. I’ll be cheering for you.”

And even though Jett still ached in his soul, he felt a little better.

“My first goal will be for you.”

Harrison laughed. “Okay, Romeo. Settle down now. ”

Jett laughed with him and said goodbye, trying to ignore the loneliness creeping into his bones as he threw the blankets over his head.

Pregame nerves didn’t stop him from catching a good night’s sleep.

He had woken that day feeling good, and began his pregame ritual of drinking a six-pack of Gatorade.

As long as he got them all down before the puck touched the ice in first period, he was safe, but he had switched things up this season.

“Blue?” Ryan asked, watching Jett finish his third bottle after their workout. “Don’t you normally drink red?”

Jett had until he spotted the electric blue colour in the store that day and was reminded of Harrison’s eyes. That had to be good luck, and since he wasn’t as superstitious as some of the other guys, he didn’t care about making the change.

His good mood carried him to the locker room that night. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in the zone.

He finished his final bottle as he sat on the bench and listened to Ryan give his speech.

“I know last season will be a tough act to follow, but if it taught me one thing, it’s that we’re capable of making it to the end and bringing that cup home.”

Jett tapped the end of his stick on the floor with the others, grinning when Wolf rolled his eyes and grunted something in German.

“Our defence is solid, our offence is fast—”

“Our goalie is hot,” Powers added. “And talented.”

“Yes,” said their third-line defenceman, Tev Banner. “That’s why we lost the last game, six to zero.”

“Hey! That pink-haired, Ottawa douchebag fucked up my crease!”

Hellstrom leaned against Jett’s shoulder to speak quietly into his ear. “My theory is that he got distracted by the pink hair, since, you know, he hasn’t shut up about it.”

Jett agreed .

Ryan didn’t seem to care that he kept getting interrupted. He shook his head fondly at the guys around him and put his hands on his hips.

“Okay, the team is great—we’re great. Fraser, pick up your skates and be where I need you or I’ll kick your ass. Wolf, keep Blanchard in line. And Powers—” Ryan turned on his best friend, jabbing a finger into his helmet. “Keep everyone except us out of your goddamn crease.”

“Actually,” said Wolf. “Keep me out of it too.”

The laughter was so loud that their coach had to wait for them to calm down before he could talk and be heard.

“Statistically, we should win this game. Calgary’s best player has more time clocked in the penalty box than on the ice.”

Laughter erupted in the room, and Coach Adams had to wait patiently for his joke, which was not actually a joke, to get out of their systems.

“Listen to your captain and follow our strategies. I look forward to your victory.”

Ryan started chanting, calling their coach’s last name repetitively to pump the rest of them up. They kept going out of the locker room and onto the ice to begin their warm-up, cackling as Coach Adams took his spot behind their bench with a scowl.

Calgary was already out there, all of them stretching and doing their pregame warmups, sending obnoxious insults their way as they skated around the ice. Jett ignored them and got low on the ice, loosening his legs and hips on the cold surface.

He put himself through the paces as fans around them screamed and sang loudly along with the music, the sound blurring together until it became relaxing white-noise. The crowd was a sea of red, but Jett spotted a group of kids in blue pressing their faces to the glass and smiled.

He took a lap around the ice, gathering enough pucks for them before going for a visit. The kids were wide-eyed and jumping with excitement when he stopped on the other side of the glass. It was hard to hear what they were saying, so he just smiled and waved before tossing the pucks over the wall.

He stayed to make sure all four kids had their puck before he gave them a goodbye wave and returned to his spot, getting in line to take shots at Jason so they could get in the zone .

Jett didn’t know why this game felt different, but he had his confidence back by the time he got three shots past Jason and skated to center ice.

“Wow, I guess Toronto lacks talent this season if they let the team’s goldendoodle on the ice.”

Jett rolled his eyes and continued to put himself through his ankle warm-ups.

Blanchard was pacing beside him, keeping to his side of the red line, but he was pushing it. Jett could technically choose to be the bigger person and move away, but he wasn’t the same player as he was last season. Blanchard knew it too, which is why he was harassing him.

“Come on, Fraser—I know you’re a dumb blond, but find your words.”

God, he was fucking annoying.

“I guess you only interact with kids because you can understand them better. How old are you…eight?”

Jett sighed and turned to face Sébastien Blanchard, the NHL fuckboy who was known for his temper and shitty attitude. Fuckboy or not, he was gorgeous. He had a big, charming grin and mischievous brown eyes. His dark hair was already damp with sweat, but he looked dangerous and ready to play.

“There you are, Fraser.” Blanchard winked, and Jett did his best to ignore how hot his French accent was when it slipped out. “Fuck, you’re even prettier up close. How about after our game tonight, you come back to my place and take a ride on my cock?”

Jett tried and failed to hide his surprise. He wasn’t expecting the vulgarity, nor did he have any idea that Blanchard was into guys—if he wasn’t just teasing him, that is. Any time he saw the asshole on TV or online, he was with a new girl.

“Horse puns from the Colts player. Very original.”

Blanchard let out a loud, barking laugh, and Jett could feel Bracken’s gaze narrow on them from across the ice.

“The offer still stands,” said Blanchard. “There’s nothing better than a good fuck after a win.”

“True,” said Jett. “But we’re going to win tonight, so don’t get too excited.”

He left before Bracken or Wolf could come over and get into a fight with the Calgary player. He knew they were looking for a reason to knock more of Blanchard’s teeth out, but they had to save that shit for when they were on the clock.

When warm-ups were over, Jett hung back at the gate with his captain to watch Wolf fuck with Blanchard, who had a weird superstition about having to be the last person off the ice before the game.

The laughter from the stands was deafening as Blanchard threw his arms up angrily, shouting at Wolf and gesturing for him to fuck off.