Page 26

26

LANE

D on’t get cocky .

Words I’ve said to my teammates countless times when we’ve been ahead.

Time and time again, I’ve had to remind the guys that a win isn’t a win until the buzzer sounds for the end of the game, no matter how many points we’re ahead, how well we’re playing, or how shitty our opponent is playing.

But when Kiran scores a goal that puts us up 4-1 in the third period and the Brumehill home crowd surges to its feet again, it’s getting a little hard for me to take my own advice.

My first home game has been everything I wanted it to be.

We’re against Fraiser University from New York. They’re no slouches, and they’re having a hell of a year, one of the best in the history of their hockey program, but they came to Cedar Shade for a shellacking.

My lips twitch. I heard Scarlett’s friend Harper say that word when they were hanging out at the house the other day, and I’ve been looking for an excuse to use it. Thank you, Fraiser U.

When I sit back down on the bench after standing up to chest bump Carter next to me and fist-pound Rhys over his shoulder, my eyes settle on the crowd. One spot in the crowd in particular.

This is Scarlett’s first game, and she’s sitting with Summer, Olivia, and Maddie. The other girls are wearing their guys’ jerseys, but Scarlett’s in a normal hoodie. I feel a tiny twang of disappointment, wishing that she’d complete the picture by wearing mine.

It’s stupid. I know it. I couldn’t possibly keep track of how many times I’ve told myself I need to abstain from thoughts like that, but no matter what, they keep wiggling back into my brain.

If Scarlett knew the things I thought about her, and how often … not just the sexual thoughts, but the sappy shit about wishing we could go on dates, or spend the whole day together in one of our rooms talking, or that I could come up behind her and surprise her by wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing my lips to the top of her head when I see her on campus … fuck, she’d probably be on Craigslist every day looking for a new place to move to.

She made it clear she had enough of all that eighteen months ago, and since seeing her again here at Brumehill, she hasn’t given any indication of having changed her mind.

My attention gets pulled back to the game when a collective groan from the crowd rattles through the arena. A split-second later, the sound is covered up by the louder shrill of the goal buzzer.

I look to the ice to see Fraiser U guys celebrating by our goal, and Hudson clearly frustrated at having let one pass.

Coach calls for a shift change in response, and I leap over the barricade and join the rest of my first line teammates on the ice.

We play hard even though we still have a two-score cushion. It’s my first home game back on the ice—the first home game of the Black Bears’ season where we’re at full strength—and a regular win isn’t enough.

I want to make a statement. I know the rest of the guys feel the same. And the home crowd damn sure wants to see a statement.

I manage to snag the puck from a charging Fraiser U forward as the time clock bleeds to zero. I deke past another, and my peripheral vision finds Sebastian up the ice, open for a pass.

But my vision also finds something else. Their right side of the ice, the side ahead of me, is weaker.

I’d like to say my decision is purely strategic. But it isn’t.

I know Scarlett’s eyes are on me, and damn it, I want to score a goal in front of her.

It’s stupid. I’m a D Man. Not only that, I’m a captain. It’s not my job to grab glory for myself.

But I want it so damn bad I can’t resist.

I pump my legs and propel myself across the ice, an unexpected move as the Fraiser U defense were arranging themselves to deal with the pass to Sebastian that they anticipated.

They scramble to adjust, but I’m faster than usual, because I want this goal more than usual. For a split second, there’s a perfect open slice of air between Fraiser U players and an empty square above the goalie’s right shoulder.

It’s not an easy shot, but I take it.

The puck arcs off the ice and through the air. Their goalie lurches.

But he’s too late.

Pandemonium erupts in the arena. The crowd jumps to their feet and cheers so loudly they almost drown out the goal buzzer.

My teammates crowd me to celebrate, and my gaze searches out Scarlett. She’s jumping up and down, her mouth open and her voice joining the collective roar.

Pride beats a steady thrum in my chest. Scoring a defensive goal always feels good. But this feels really good.

My vision sweeps through the rest of the crowd, taking the moment in. I do a double take when I spot, of all people, Kazu and Cindy in the crowd. Kazu, the ramen shop owner, and Cindy, the owner of an awesome bookshop-slash-café in Cedar Shade, are a new official couple after spending most of last year dancing around each other.

Cindy, I’m not surprised to see here. Nor am I surprised to see the vivacious woman jumping up and down and waving her arms in all kinds of contortions that make me chuckle.

But Kazu? Yeah, he stands out. And he’s actually on his feet. Not just that, but he’s politely clapping, too.

There’s still a minute of defense to play, but Fraiser U can’t get anything going, and the game ends with a decisive 5-2 win.

Last year, the Frozen Four championship was snatched right out of our hands in the most painful way possible. Especially for me.

But right now?

Sheer conviction laces through me. In my last year as a Black Bear, we’re bringing it home.

“It doesn’t mean anything, you know.”

I ignore Rhys’s words, my features set hard and expressionless while I finish my shoulder-press set.

“I had a worse game than that just two months ago,” he continues.

That’s bullshit. Rhys has never had a worse game than I just had in his life. Neither have I.

That’s why I’ve done nothing since it happened but think about it.

Okay, maybe think isn’t the right word. More like: I’ve done nothing since it happened but catastrophize over it.

I’m self-aware enough to know what I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I can stop.

What I’ve worried about ever since my injury last year finally happened. I played a game where I didn’t feel like myself. I was slow, I had bad reaction time, forwards beat me like a drum in one-on-one plays.

Yeah, fluctuations in your performances are a natural part of the game. But having the worst game of my career, by far, just a couple weeks after my return from a major injury?

It could be a natural fluctuation, or it could be the first sign that I’m washed up, that the decent to good performances I’ve had in games since my return up to now were just flukes.

Maybe it means that my durability has totally tanked. That I can play like I used to now and then, but that the injury’s robbed me of my ability to sustain the necessary level of performance over an entire season.

It’ll take more games for me to know the truth. But until that happens, I don’t know how to stop torturing myself over it.

A lot of people would say I’m being ridiculous to spiral like this after one bad game. I mean, shit, a lot of people have told me exactly that. Rhys included, more than once.

But the bottom line is, I haven’t played long enough to really know what kind of player I’m going to be long-term, post-injury. The fact that my fourth game back was my worst performance ever has all the alarm centers of my brain firing off.

With a heave of breath, I finish my last rep. I roll my tight, sore shoulders.

Rhys plops himself on the lat pull-down machine across from me, facing me.

“Alright, asshole,” he begins, a classic conversation opener from my lifelong best friend, “since you won’t listen to me while I’m trying to talk sense into you, I’ll ask you something else you don’t want to answer. Our new roommate.”

The arc of muscle around my neck pulls. “What about her?”

He folds his arms over his chest, giving me a no-bullshit glare. “What’s the real story?”

I almost wish he’d want to talk about my shitty game again. “There’s no story.”

“I already knew there was a story when you looked like you’d seen a ghost that day we helped Hudson move. After seeing you guys live together for weeks, now I know it’s a big one.” He arches an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to keep things to yourself.”

“Look who’s talking. The guy who was in love with my little sister for basically his whole damn life and never told me about it until I saw them kissing.”

I can’t deny that there’s an edge to my voice. But it has nothing to do with Rhys’s relationship with Maddie, and everything to do with him prodding at a topic I don’t want to discuss.

“Yeah, well, that’s because it is like me to keep things to myself,” Rhys parries back with a sardonic grin. “You, on the other hand? This is out of character.”

“Has it occurred to you that you’re mistaken?”

“No, because I can see your face right now.”

I try to keep what I think is a poker face plastered on, but the energy evaporates from my body. I sigh and let my eyes drop between my feet.

“Remember that summer I went to Chicago for that hockey camp?” I say.

Rhys nods, and I give him the story. It’s the first time I’m breathing even a word about what happened that summer to anyone else. Rhys is right, I’ve always shared everything with him, but this is one thing I’ve kept locked up and buried deep because it just hurt too damn much.

Silly, right? Being that hurt by someone deciding that a short, fun summer fling wasn’t worth trying to drag out into a long-term, long-distance relationship.

Yeah, more than silly. Fucking stupid. Especially for someone who’s always logical and realistic like me. But it did hurt; it hurt like there was a gaping wound in my soul, and even though the pain eventually faded into the background, it never went away.

“Now we’re living together,” I continue after telling Rhys everything, “and I’m still hung up on her while she clearly just wants to stay friendly while trying to coexist in the same house. So, yeah, it’s fucking me up a little, but I’ll deal.”

Rhys’s forehead is scrunched as he nods slowly, taking in my words. I can sense the gears of his brain turning behind that thick skull of his. “Have you guys talked about how things ended between you since you met again?”

I blanch, shaking my head. “No way. I don’t want her to think I still have a thing for her.”

“But you do.”

“Right,” I grouse defensively. “And she doesn’t. I don’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she probably already is. Think of it from her perspective. She lost her housing. Had no choice but to move into the room I offered. Imagine if I’m suddenly making it clear that I’m still into her after she dumped me a year and a half ago.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to put her in that position.”

Rhys’s lips press flat. “I get it. But …”

I cut him off by pushing to my feet. “There is no but . Sometimes things just suck and all you can do is deal with it.”

Like if all the rest of my games this season are as pathetic as the last one I played.

If I’m not able to end my college career with the Frozen Four championship win after all.

If my professional career doesn’t even start because it becomes clear I’m nothing but damaged goods after my injury.

“I’m hitting the showers,” I announce.

I don’t look back, but I know Rhys is shaking his head as he watches me storm off.