Page 24 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

Honor that part of myself. Honor the game.

No, no, no. The game honors me. The game is my stage. My spotlight. If I can’t skate, it does nothing for me. I do nothing for it.

And that... That suddenly seems very wrong.

I glance at the clock on the dining room wall. “I have to send a text.”

“I’ll leave you be.”

Inever get to send the text. I had my phone tossed under a couch cushion on vibrate. When I finally retrieve it, I have 137 notifications.

Well wishes from people in the community, dozens of offers of “let us know if you need any help.”

Texts from teammates checking up on me.

Texts from Coach.

Eight messages from my mother.

And about seventy tags on social media because of the King’s Kutie debacle.

Everyone seems to be on my side, saying that she crossed a line.

I sit, crutches leaning against my knees, and move slowly.

Honor that part of yourself. Honor the game.

I hit record without even checking my hair—and my hair always has to be perfect if I’m not straight out of a helmet.

“Hi. Thank you all so much. The love and support that people have shown since I’ve been injured is incredible. I just... I just want you to do something for me. See, Pine Ridge is the best community in the world, and Lumberjacks fans are amazing—with a few little lapses of judgment here and there. I’m taken care of. But can you do me a favor? Go give some love to someone else who’s struggling. Someone who doesn’t have their own team. Be someone’s team today, okay? Oh—but I still expect to see your butts in the seats at every game. I know I’ll be there, even on crutches. I’ll be the guy screaming loudest on the bench.”

I stop recording, hit post, and swallow. Sink back.

Was that cringe? Was that sappy?

Did I have stuff in my teeth?

I lean forward and consider deleting everything, but—Kev yells outside my door. “King! Can we let ourselves in? Don’t get up!”

“Come in!” I shout back, then mute my phone. I’ll deal with the fallout from my utter patheticness later.

“There you are! I made peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and brought some protein shake powder.” Marina rushes in, a body that screams sex, wrapped in a white sweater dress and stiletto heels. The only other women who can move that gracefully on a razor’s edge are figure skaters.

And before you judge me, kindly remember that rusalkas lure men to their watery graves like sensual sirens, and if Marina wasn’t reformed, Kev would literally be sleeping with the fishes. Back in the day, before she met Kev, I always knew Marina would be a friend-with-benefits if I was desperate. She feeds on sexual energy, so sleeping with her would’ve basically been her equivalent of grabbing a bite to eat. It was a pleasant contemplation we never needed to act on, but I didn’t mind thinking about it.

Now? There’s nothing. The tight white dress, the chestnut waves of hair, the seductive smile she can’t turn off even if she wants to? Nada. Zip.

“Thanks, guys. Where’s Ingrid?”

“She’s on her way.” Kev’s eyes are glued to the roast boar shoulder on a platter, still steaming. “How does this look so damn amazing?” he groans.

“A little magic. I think Farrah put some sort of temperature spell on it,” I say, easing myself to my feet with some minor cursing. “Painkillers are wearing off.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go reaching for them just yet. I don’t need you addicted to those things, man,” Kev says with a grave face. “You just need a distraction. Sit down and eat a cookie.”

“Well...” I sit and take a cookie from the plate Marina pushes at me. “I’m in my head a lot. It’s hard to get distracted when you can’t do anything.”

“Hmm.” Marina nods. “You could regale us with the story of the girl who showed up and threw herself at you?”