Page 5 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)
And it wasn’t because of Mike.
Sorry, Mike.
Mini Killinger didn’t miss a beat.
“Get fucked, buddy.”
The puck hit the ice, and Jett cursed when he hesitated for a split second, losing the face-off to the asshole who was already skating away from him with impressive speed, leaving him scrambling to keep up.
One of Jett’s defencemen tried to block him and knock the puck off his stick, but it was obvious who was the better player.
Mini Killinger did some flashy puck handling before faking to the left and breaking away from the other players, shooting the puck into the net over the goalie’s left shoulder.
Damn.
“You’re a fucking monster as usual, Townsend,” said the guy on defence who just got his ass kicked. “Not giving your hockey hero a break, huh?”
Townsend? Not Killinger ?
“Fuck off,” said Townsend, shoving the guy away from him before he could get pulled into a friendly hug. They swung around the net and skated toward Jett for the next play, but when blue eyes landed on him, Townsend turned red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
“Shit, sorry,” said Townsend. “I didn’t mean to tell you to get fucked.”
Jett smiled and shrugged. “I’ve told myself worse in the mirror.”
The guys on the ice laughed, and Jett reigned in his excitement as they set up for another play. He knew Mike wanted to hit a couple of bars after their game, but he needed to take five minutes to ask Townsend a few questions before they left.
“What the hell, man?” Mike slid to a stop next to him, frowning deeply. “Why are you playing like shit today? Townsend is nothing compared to you. You should have easily won that face-off.”
Jett smirked and ignored the critique. “This is for fun, man. Don’t take it so seriously.”
Mike’s frown twisted into something even more ugly, and Jett fought to keep his smile radiant and carefree.
“It’s not fun unless we fucking win. I can’t brag about how I lost a game against Townsend when I have you playing with me. That’s just fucking sad.”
Jett couldn’t see the big deal, but maybe Mike was used to winning. It wouldn’t take much to get cocky with someone like Townsend playing on the team. The guy was going places, probably fast.
Still, on his next face-off against Townsend, he made sure to win it and put the puck in the net to give Mike his bragging rights.
After a good game and a solid win, they headed to the locker room to shower and change. The guys were friendly and talkative, and between Mike answering all their questions and horsing around, he didn’t have to put much effort into making friends.
He saw Townsend grabbing his bag and ducking out, and everyone was so engrossed in conversation that Jett managed to sneak away and catch him before he could leave the building.
“Townsend. ”
Townsend stopped so quickly he nearly stumbled, then shot him a sheepish grin that Jett had seen on hundreds of Killinger’s posters. The grin disappeared when he saw it was Jett who had spoken.
“Oh, hey. About the name calling—”
Jett threw his head back and laughed. “Holy shit. I’m not mad at you for telling me to fuck off or calling me a hoser.”
“Fuck, did I do that?”
Jett couldn’t believe this guy. “Twice. You also checked me into the boards and called me a bitch.”
Townsend’s face went red again. “I’m really frigging sorry. I get like, possessed on the ice or something. It’s like a Skinwalker takes over my body and turns me into an asshole.”
“I don’t think that’s how that works, but how about we start over?” Jett held out his hand and waited for Townsend to take it before giving it a firm shake. “My name is Jett Fraser, and I’m one of the right wingers for the Toronto Sunbursts.”
“Arlo Townsend,” said Townsend with an upward tilt of his lips. “Center for the Acadia Wolves.”
“Not Killinger?” Jett asked. He knew it was probably rude, but curiosity was eating away at him. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if he didn’t know.
“We’re cousins,” said Arlo. “Our parents are siblings.”
“You look like you could be brothers.”
It wasn’t an exaggeration. Arlo wasn’t as tall as Killinger, and he was more pretty than handsome, but he still had the same presence on the ice his cousin had. They both played center too, so Townsend or not, Arlo was Mini Killinger in his mind.
“We get that a lot,” said Arlo. He blew a strand of inky, black hair out of his eyes and made a face. “We don’t look like the rest of our family. We’re literally the black sheep.”
Or the black bear in Killinger’s case. Scruff was sexy on a guy, but when the hair began to become sentient and take control, he drew a line.
“I know this is weird in a thousand ways,” Jett began, stopping to breathe because he was nervous . “I’m sure you heard what happened after we made our escape yesterday—”
The smirk on Townsend’s face suggested he was correct.
“But I really want to talk to Killinger and apologize for yesterday.” Jett could feel his cheeks heating up before continuing his next sentence. He had spoken about this in a hundred interviews, but saying it to someone who knew Killinger felt different.
“I also…look up to him. He was always out of reach when we were younger, and I never had the guts to approach him, especially after…everything.”
Jett tried not to linger on the subject in case it brought bad memories to the surface.
“I never thought I would have the chance to meet him. I can’t remember what I said yesterday, but it must have been bad to get dumped on the side of the highway. That being said, could you give me his number so I can send an apology text?”
He was expecting an awkward smile from Townsend or a chuckle, but he was unprepared for the look of horror he received.
“I—” Townsend was looking from side to side, like he was hoping a secret door would suddenly appear and he could escape. “I can’t do that. He would kill me.”
Huh?
“He would kill you over a text?” Jett was calling bullshit. A text was just a text. “He was a little grumpy yesterday, but I don’t think he would resort to murder over a message.”
“ A little ?” Townsend hissed. “Fuck, I thought you were dead and buried on the property somewhere.”
Jett was offended. Killinger was bigger than him, but he was confident that he could take him in a fight.
“I’ll sign anything you want,” said Jett. “In exchange for one text.”
“Or I’ll tell him you said sorry for free and we can all move on.” Townsend was definitely about to run. The difference in personalities on and off the ice was dizzying. “Hell, I’ll get him to sign something for you if it will convince you to leave him alone.”
Tempting, but Jett wanted to talk to Killinger in person, and now that he had made up his mind, he wasn’t going to give in.
He wanted to, but he couldn’t get the image of Killinger’s face before he drove away.
Even though he had been in the accident that ruined his leg 5 years ago, he still had the look of a battered and beaten man .
Jett didn’t know how to help, but they were star players from the same hometown. If anyone could lend Killinger support, he wanted to make the offer.
“Dude, just give me his number,” said Jett. “If you don’t, I’ll follow you to his place because I feel like that’s where you’re running to.”
Townsend took a single step back. “I am not! Jesus, Fraser—you’re making me nervous here.”
“I’m not above getting on my knees and begging.”
Townsend made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, then he abruptly turned and walked away as fast as his long legs could carry him.
Jett waited for him to take the turn that would lead him to the back parking lot, and once he was sure that Townsend couldn’t see what he was doing, he bolted straight down the hall to where his car was parked out front.
If Townsend wanted to do this the hard way, then they would do this the hard way.