Page 25

TWENTY-FIVE

RILEY

Puck Kings

Easy E

What do you think, baby? Do you like it?

*Attachment: 1 image*

Sully

Why the fuck are you sending us pictures of you shirtless in a motorcycle helmet?

And who the fuck are you calling baby?

Is that a washcloth on your dick?

Fucking Christ. I hate this chat.

G-Money

He’s calling me baby, obviously.

Mavvy

It would definitely be me.

Easy E

LMAO whoops. Wrong chat.

Huddy Boy

… You send photos of yourself naked in a motorcycle helmet to other chats?

Easy E

Uh, yeah. I’m not out here getting NBA money, so I need to do something to make some extra cash.

Kidding!!! I have a social media account where I post videos of me wearing my motorcycle helmet. The ladies love it, and I’ve been texting one.

Mavvy

Jesus. This sounds like a recipe for disaster. When your dick pics are leaked, I can’t help you.

Me

Be careful, E.

Easy E

Awww. You guys love me.

The world would be lucky if they got to see my dick pics.

And this girl doesn’t know who I am. No faces, no names. She’s cool.

Me

You like her?

Easy E

I mean, I like the photos she sends me.

Huddy Boy

I can’t wait for the day you grow up.

G-Money

Okay, but who WOULD you call baby out of all of us? Me, right?

Me

Oh, boy. Here we go.

*Sully has left the chat*

*Easy E has added Sully to the chat*

Easy E

I’d call Sully baby, obviously.

And I’d follow it up with a Daddy too ;)

Wait. Does Piper call you that in bed?

Sully

If you say her name one more time, I’m going to fucking murder you.

*G-Money has left the chat*

*Mavvy has added G-Money to the chat*

G-Money

I can see I’m not wanted here.

Me

I’d pick you, Grant.

G-Money

Shucks. Thanks, Mitchy. I love you too.

Mavvy

What about me?

Huddy Boy

We should really talk to someone about our co-dependence.

Easy E

*Attachment: 1 image*

Whoops, did it again!

Mavvy

At this point, I think you’re trying to show us your dick.

Huddy Boy

Ethan. Your jersey is behind you in that picture. And so is the team photo from the Stanley Cup last year.

Easy E

I’ll say I’m a dedicated fan boy. She’ll never know.

Sully

It’s a shame I didn’t get drafted by Utah. Life would be much better.

Mavvy

You don’t mean that, Goalie Daddy.

Sully

No, he doesn’t and this is Piper responding and letting you all know he secretly smiles when he reads the group chat but now I have to hide because he’s throwing me over his shoulder for telling you that and hfsdfuew798ytfu89ji14

G-Money

Goalie Daddy really loves us.

This is the best day of my life.

* * *

November turns to December, and the boys have put together a 15-17 record during the first two months of the season. I’m feeling better both mentally and physically, and I’ve successfully gone four weeks without getting on my hands and knees and begging Lexi to let me fuck her again.

Boy, am I proud of myself.

After the initial awkwardness wore off, things got back to normal. She keeps kicking my ass in the training room, I keep showing up, and we talk like the sex didn’t happen.

It’s for the best: the longer I think about the night we were together, the more tempted I am to pull her underwear out of my drawer and jerk off to it.

Last I checked, that’s not very friendly behavior, and I like how things are going. I don’t want to fuck anything up by acting like a goddamn creep.

“Mitchell,” Coach calls out, and I glance his way from where I’m sitting on the bench watching morning skate.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Come by my office when we’re finished here. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Ooooh, Mitchy is in trouble,” Ethan sings out from the stickhandling station he and a few other guys are in, and Coach glares at him from center ice.

“We were going to wrap up today with some easy skating and a light half-ice game, but since Richardson wants to run his mouth, we’re going to run a corner to half wall two v one drill where he’s the single player. Again and again and again without a break. The first pair who connects on four consecutive passes in a row without Ethan stealing the puck gets to sit out of morning skate tomorrow,” Coach says, and everyone groans.

“My quads are fucking smoked,” Grant whines, skating toward the bench to grab a sip of Bodyarmor from his bottle. “Ethan never shuts the fuck up.”

“Be the first to not let him steal the puck.” I stand and lean over the boards so I can have a good viewpoint of the drill. They’re going to be confined to a small area on the ice, and I don’t want to miss everyone trying to kick Ethan’s ass. “You can do it.”

“My passes have been shit this year. I have two assists—that’s almost last in the league. And I’m notorious for turnovers after missing a pass. Any pointers?” Grant asks.

“You know I’m a defense guy, but you need to expand the area where you can receive the puck. You’re not going to get a tape to tape pass every time, so you can’t be afraid to adjust your grip to try to keep your blade on the ice. Here. Let me see your stick.”

“All yours, Mitchy.”

Grant tosses me his CCM stick, and I flip it in my hands. I inhale sharply as I run my palms down the length of the carbon. It’s the first time I’ve held one since the night of the accident, and I squeeze my eyes shut to hold back a sob.

After so much time away, it’s like coming home.

My thumb rubs over the tape on the handle, and I grip it tight.

“Okay.” My voice shakes. “Let me get on the ice.”

“Right this way, sir.” Grant skates backward to the bench gate and opens it for me. He holds out his arm so I can steady myself, and I grip his practice jersey. “Show me your mastery, Mitchy.”

“Don’t let me fall on my ass,” I warn him, and Maverick skates up behind us.

“I’m here for reinforcements,” he says, and I swallow down the ball of emotion sitting in the center of my chest. “Ready to catch if necessary.”

“I weigh a hundred eighty-five pounds,” I say, and Maverick scoffs.

“Please. I squat double that, Mitchy, and lifting people is one of my favorite hobbies. Just ask Emmy,” he says, and I laugh.

“I’d prefer not to.” I turn to Grant. “Watch my hands. If I keep the same grip on the stick when I reach out for a far pass as I would for a tape to tape pass, I’m only going to be able to catch it with the heel of the stick, which could cause a turnover. If I keep my bottom hand loose, I can slide the stick through my bottom hand in whatever direction I need to go—either closer to the blade when the puck is coming to your feet, or up to the handle if the puck is far out. The blade will stay on the ice, and you can control the pass more efficiently.”

“That makes so much sense. Can I try?” he asks, and I nod, handing him the stick.

He taps the blade on the ice and Maverick skates to the blue line, firing off a pass that’s headed to Grant’s left. He follows my instructions, sliding his hand down toward the blade, and stops the puck from soaring straight past him.

“There you go,” I say, and Grant leaps in the air.

“Holy shit. You’re a genius, Riley. Pass me another one, Cap,” he yells to Maverick, and a second one is shot his way. This time, he brings his hand up the stick, whooping when he stops the puck again. “Oh, this is a fucking game changer.”

“That’s a great drill, Mitchy.” Maverick skates up next to me, spraying ice on my sneakers. “Where’d you learn it?”

“My college coach. It goes against our instincts as players to keep our gloves glued to the stick, but it works,” I say.

“I’m gonna be the league leader in assists, baby,” Grant yells, taking off for the pairs of players lining up for the drill.

“Don’t forget, Mitchell. My office after this,” Coach says, and I nod.

“It’s good to have you back out here, Mitchy,” Maverick says, tapping my calf with his stick. “We’ve missed you.”

I smile, taking in the feel of the ice under my foot. The bright lights and the smell of sweat clinging to his jersey. “It’s good to be back.”

* * *

I slide into the chair across from Coach thirty minutes later and look at him. “What’s up?”

“How do you feel about coaching?” he asks, cutting right to the point.

“Uh, in general?”

“How do you feel about being a coach?”

“It’s not something I ever considered because I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m patient enough.”

Coach lifts an eyebrow. “And I am?”

“You know what I mean.” I pull on the sleeves of my hoodie and shrug. “I don’t think I have enough hockey smarts to guide other players on what they’re doing wrong.”

“I’ve been working with Grant for months to get his passes under control, and you fixed it in five minutes.”

“I don’t know if I would call it fixed . I gave him a suggestion and it worked one time.”

“It was a good suggestion.” Coach leans back in his chair and stares at me. “I want you to have more of a role at practice and during games. I know you can’t be on the ice in your skates, but I want you out there running drills with the guys. Giving them a different perspective than what I can provide and offering fixes for problems I’m not seeing.”

“Really?” I sit up straight. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I’m waiting on approval from the league to add you as a non-uniformed player allowed on the bench in a coaching capacity.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, Mitchell. You took this team to back-to-back Stanley Cups. You should be out there with us chasing a three-peat, but life isn’t fucking fair. I’m doing what I can to balance the scales.”

“Wow. Okay. Yeah. I’m… that would be awesome. I’d be honored.”

“When I get the go-ahead from headquarters, you’ll have to follow the rules we do: suit and tie. Conducting yourself in a professional manner which means no chirping. That kind of thing.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, and he nods.

“Good. I’ll let you know what they say.”

“Thanks for thinking of me. If given the chance, I won’t let you down.” I stand and smile. “See you at the game tonight.”

He doesn’t say anything else and I slip out of his office, surprised when I find Maverick waiting in the hall.

“What are you still doing here, Cap? You should be resting up for tonight,” I say.

“Wanted to make sure everything was okay. Getting pulled into Coach’s office is fucking terrifying.”

“It usually is. He, um, invited me to be on the bench during games as a non-uniformed team official. I think I’m going to take him up on it.”

“What?” Maverick launches himself into my arms, and I laugh when we almost tumble over. “That’s fucking cool, man. Congratulations.”

“Beats standing in the tunnel with my hands in my pockets,” I say. “Not sure I’m worthy enough to stand behind you all, but we’ll see.”

“Nah. You’re worthy as hell.” He pulls away and clasps my shoulder. “It’s going to be a privilege to play with you again, Riley. The rest of the guys will feel the same.”

“It’s been a rough half a year. The worst days of my fucking life, honestly, but you all have been there with me every step of the way. Thanks for sticking around even when I didn’t want anything to do with you.”

“We’re brothers. Family.” He slings his arm around me, and we head for the locker room. He’s careful to slow his steps so I can keep up, and it makes me smile. “We’re always going to show up.”

I could get used to things going well. Used to feeling genuinely happy .

I can only hope it lasts a long fucking time.