Page 13

THIRTEEN

RILEY

A camera flashes when I drop the puck on the ice. Not flipping anyone off should win me an award, and the smile I plaster on is fake as hell.

At least it gets the job done.

I exchange a handshake with both guys and give the crowd an awkward wave. I’m not used to hearing people chant my name. That kind of attention is normally reserved for players like Maverick and Ethan who enjoying showing off.

Not me, and I don’t like it.

“Wow.” Lexi laughs when I make it back to the tunnel. “Can’t tell if you’re at a hockey game or about to get a root canal.”

“That was painful.”

“People say the same about the dentist.”

“I’d prefer the novocaine.” I grimace and lean against the wall, popping my hips back so I can adjust my prosthetic. “I never want to do that again.”

“No more appearances. Noted. I’ll put in a word with the people in charge.”

“Appreciate it.”

“What are you doing after the game?”

“Going home, sitting on the couch, and being miserable. Might listen to that sad Sarah McLachlan song while I do it. Why?”

“Wow. As fun as that sounds, I have a proposition for you.” Lexi fixes the collar of her jacket. “Want to grab some food? There’s a diner nearby that I love. They have the best milkshakes in town.”

I haven’t been social with anyone since the night at the club, and what happened after makes me want to immediately say no.

But a pang of loneliness hits me square in the chest.

I’ve spent so many days alone. I’ve spent so many hours wondering how the hell I’d dive back into interacting with my friends. Doing something other than moping around sounds like a nice break from the monotony I’ve slipped into.

Plus, Lexi is smiling at me. She’s looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes, and that damn crush of mine wins out because I like seeing her happy. I’m nodding before I can come up with an excuse and saying, “Sure. Sounds good.”

“You just made my day.” Her soft smile turns into a grin, and I swear I can feel it behind my ribs. It makes the whole space around us warmer and brighter, and I’m a sad, sad man, because after so many fucking days in the dark, I want to feel like that again. “I’ll wait for you outside the locker room.”

“Great.” I lift my chin. The guys are skating to the bench after player introductions and the national anthem, and I don’t want to take up too much of her time. She’s important, a woman with responsibilities and people to help. “Do you need to get to your spot?”

“Shit. I do.” She laughs. “I’m always antsy for our first game, even if it is the preseason.”

“Really? I thought you’d have it down by now, Armstrong.”

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, Mitchell. But even pros are allowed to get nervous. I better go. Coach is going to give me an earful.”

“Wouldn’t be Coach if he’s not bitching about something.”

“Exactly.” Lexi holds my gaze. “Tonight might be hard for you, Riley, but try to have some fun. You love this sport, and there’s nothing wrong with loving it from off the ice.”

I don’t know why the words mean so much to me, but they do.

“I’ll do my best,” I say.

“That’s more than enough.” She walks away, only stopping to give me one last smirk over her shoulder that makes me feel less alone than I have in months. “I’ll see you later, Mitchy.”

* * *

The boys are playing like shit.

They’re down by three, they can’t find a rhythm, and the assist Hudson set up for Maverick to try to finally score ricocheted off the goal post. McDavidson, who replaced me in the starting lineup, is fucking atrocious. I’m not making the observation because I’m bitter he’s on the ice and I’m not; any hockey fan with an ounce of knowledge on the sport can see he’s hurting the team. I don’t think the guy did any sort of conditioning during the offseason. He’s getting beat across the line on every play and repeatedly asks for shorter shifts.

Coach even went with a last-ditch effort and put in Bruce Livingston, the duster who barely sees any minutes, to try bringing some energy off the bench, but he scored an own goal, and that pretty much sealed our fate with two minutes to go.

It makes me an absolute dickbag to even think it, but part of me is glad they’re not having immediate success. It makes me feel like I contribute to the team, like I’m not easily replaceable. I’m sure I’ll go back to being pissed off when they find their groove and start a winning streak, so I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.

When the final horn sounds, the crowd boos. The guys hang their heads and skate off the ice, and Grant groans as he walks down the tunnel.

“We looked fucking awful out there.” He unclips his helmet and scowls. “Good thing they didn’t give us our rings tonight. That would’ve been sad.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Hudson says, always the voice of reason. “The loss doesn’t mean anything come playoff time.”

“We got smoked , Huddy.” Ethan pulls off his glove with his teeth. “A peewee team could’ve played better than us.”

“What did you think, Mitchy?” Maverick slings an arm over my shoulder. “You probably saw shit we didn’t.”

“You don’t want to know what I thought,” I say.

“Yeah, I do. I’m captain of this team, and as much as it’s going to suck learning new shifts and different lines, it’s what we have to do.”

“I want to know too.” Coach props the door to the locker room open with his foot. “Especially if it’s something we can fix early on.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking when you started McDavidson. Seymour is the better skater. McDavidson should be on the third line like he was last year, and Brooks should be on second.” I pause for a breath. “And Ethan lost sixty percent of the face offs he should’ve easily won.”

“Wow, Mitchy.” Ethan stops at his locker and drops his stick at his feet. “That hurts.”

“Sorry. Just being honest.”

“Seymour’s takeaways have been some of the lowest in the league,” Coach says, and he motions for me to follow him. “McDavidson was top twenty in the league with blocked shots last year.”

“Yeah, and he has the highest percentage of goals scored against us when he’s on the ice.” I shut the door to Coach’s office behind me and lean against it. I’ve been in pain all night, and it’s a relief to alleviate some of the ache in my limb. “You have offensive weapons who can score—Miller is good for at least two goals a game. Grant is becoming more sure of himself and looked great tonight. But without me out there, you’re leaving a lot of defensive work to Hayes, who can’t do it all on his own when his pair is getting beaten across the line every time.”

Coach sits and steeples his fingers. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“I’ve been obsessed with statistics since my high school coach said I wouldn’t make the first line on a college team. So, I studied the shit out of the best defenders in the league, realized it’s not about fancy skating or being the best scorer, and honed in on the areas of my game that would elevate me to the next level.”

“You ended up winning the Hobey Baker Award when you were at Michigan. I’d say you turned out okay.”

“Yeah. I did. Can’t say the same about McDavidson. I think he’s used to being one of the best players on the ice at the collegiate level, and that’s not translating to the big leagues yet. Offenses blow right by him.”

“I’m impressed, Mitchell.”

“By what? My hockey IQ? I’ve been playing over fifteen years, Coach. I know a few things.”

“No.” He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them to his elbows, showing off a dozen tattoos. I spy his daughter’s initials. A pair of skates and a design that looks like a ribbon. “This is the most you’ve looked alive in months. Who knew calling out shitty playing was the way to get you out of your funk?”

“Oh.” I pull on the sleeve of my jersey. I might’ve been watching from the outside, and the boys might’ve lost, but it was fucking fun to be back around the sport I love. Seeing the guys in action gave me some motivation. It makes me want to get my ass in gear. To work hard so I can maybe skate with them again one day. “Hockey has that effect on me, I guess. It makes me happy, even when everything else in my life is shit.”

“I know what it’s like. The amount of times this sport has saved my ass, even after breaking my heart, is astronomical,” Coach says. “Maybe this means you’ll start showing up to morning skates. I remember that being part of our agreement.”

“Sure. Yeah. I will.”

“How are your sessions with Lexi going?”

“Don’t you get a report from her?”

“I do. But I also like to hear it from you.”

“She’s kicking my ass,” I say.

“Good. I’m proud of you, kid. You’re getting there.”

“Where is there, exactly?”

“Fuck if I know.” Coach laughs. “Living again? Experiencing an emotion other than self-loathing? I went through it too. It’s a bitch, but better days are ahead.”

“Appreciate the pep talk, Coach.” I turn the doorknob. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“Yeah. Speak up more. It’s going to take us months to figure out a lineup that clicks. If you see a play on the ice that isn’t working, I hope you’ll tell me.”

“I can do that.”

“Glad to hear it, Mitchell. Now get your ass out of here. I have lines to fix.”

I don’t need to be told twice, and with a nod, I make my way into the locker room. The guys are undressing, tossing their jerseys into a pile and setting their helmets in their cubbies. Someone is blasting Kendrick Lamar, and the music gets turned down when Ethan spots me.

“Mitchy,” he calls out, jumping to his feet. “I have an awkward question for you.”

“No, I will not get a dick piercing to match yours,” I answer, and Grant snickers. “Not my style.”

“If you ever change your mind, I’ll give you the name of my guy. He does good work.”

“Never going to change my mind. What’s up?” I ask.

“I’ve been looking at some photos online but, ah, I was wondering if I could—” He gives me a sheepish glance. “I’ve never met someone with a prosthetic leg, and I want to learn how it works. In case… I don’t know. In case you need anything? In case I meet someone else who has one? Not that you aren’t capable,” he adds in a rush. “I’d just want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Being an ally without being a dick, you know? Or like I’m some savior. Could I, um, see what it looks like?”

The room is silent. I’m sure some of my teammates are wondering the same thing, and this might be the best time to tackle the elephant in the room. Hudson said they’re my brothers, and he’s right. We’ve all seen each other at our highest highs and lowest lows, and if I can’t be myself around them, I’m never going to want to be myself around anyone.

“Yeah.” My voice is thick. This seems like an important step, and I grab a chair shoved in the corner. I set my crutches on the ground, sit down and unlace my shoe, pulling it off. “This is my right foot. It doesn’t bend and flex the way my left foot does. I can’t show you the rest of the leg without stripping, but—” I work the bottom of my joggers up over the metal pylon. “This is what my calf and shin look like now. Further up is my mechanical knee, a valve, and a socket, which is where my limb sits in a liner I use to protect my skin. There’s also a pin that goes into the socket.”

“Holy shit.” Ethan sits in front of me. “That’s fucking incredible.”

“This isn’t the final product, and I’m still learning how to use the prosthetic,” I admit. “A few sessions with Lexi though, and I can already see a difference in how I’m walking and standing.”

“Lexi, huh?” Maverick grins. “How’s that going?”

“Good, yeah.” I scratch the back of my neck. I’m not going to tell them seeing her has become the highlight of my day. They’d give me so much shit. “Management almost paired me up with one of the new members of the training staff they brought in, but I shot that shit down.”

“Wonder why,” Liam mumbles, but it’s loud enough for all of us to hear. “Definitely isn’t because of your feelings for her, is it?”

“I don’t have feelings for her.” I flip him off, feeling like I was out there with them for sixty minutes tonight. It’s our usual post-game chirping, the locker room shit-talking I’ve really missed. “It’s because she’s the most qualified for the job.”

“Looking at her ass can’t hurt,” Ethan says, and I kick him. “ Ow , you fucker. It was a joke.”

“Don’t talk about her ass. And don’t include her in any of your jokes,” I warn him, then I look down at my lower body. “I’ll wear shorts to morning skate tomorrow so you can see what the rest of my leg looks like.”

“That would be sick. You’re like a bionic superhero,” Grant says.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Want to grab a beer with us?” Hudson offers. “We’re going to head to Johnny’s Place for a round.”

“Water for me,” Maverick says. “I’m back on my no-drinking plan.”

“Because the season is starting?” Ethan scoffs. “Weak. You used to be a party boy, Miller.”

“And now I’m in future dad mode. Emmy is trying to get pregnant, and imagining her carrying my baby is the hottest thing in the fucking world. It means giving up alcohol, and I’m glad to do it.” Maverick’s attention flicks over to me. “What do you say, Mitchy?”

“Thanks for the invite, but I told Lexi I’d get some food with her.” I roll my pant leg down and stand. “I should get going.”

“Oooooh, Mitchy and Lexi, sitting in a tree,” Grant sings, and I wish I had a glove to throw at him. “First comes food, then comes?—”

“I’m leaving. Congrats on the loss,” I say. “Glad to know you all suck without me.”

“Wow. Way to kick us when we’re down, Ri.” Ethan clutches his chest. “Thanks for letting me see your leg!”

“Yeah, yeah.” My fingers fold around the door handle, and I fight back a grin. “It’s good to see you assholes again.”