Page 35 of Hockey Halloween

Palmer

Theo rolls into the arena at the same time as me, and as he gets out of his car, he shoots me a devilish grin and wiggles his eyebrows. "Too busy with Saint sibling pussy to answer my texts, Huddy?"

"It's not like that, Richard, so cut it out," I say, my tone friendly but firm. "I told you I knew her when I was a kid. I had a thing for her then, and we… we're reconnecting."

He seems to actually try to absorb that information wholeheartedly. When he speaks again, his jovial shit-stirring attitude is on the back burner. "Weird how the universe works, huh? You never knew she was Moore's sister this whole time?"

I shake my head. "When we were at this camp that didn't allow for last names, and she never mentioned her brother's first name.

She talked a lot about her sister who had died that year.

Her twin. That's the foundation I want to donate the money to, if you guys are game.

I realize I should have asked first, so if you say no, I'll just donate my own cash. "

Delaney and I have spent almost every waking hour together since the costume party.

First at the hotel, and then we met up the next night at my place, where we talked until three in the morning.

I left her sleeping in my bed to head to morning practice, and later that day, I showed up at her tennis academy with flowers.

We spent last night having our first official date, which ended at her place.

We've talked about everything. Our childhoods after we lost touch, her college years, my struggle to make the NHL, her decision not to go pro, and start the Hadley Moore Foundation. She’s the one who told me to make sure the other guys were truly okay with donating to the charity because she realized I blindsided them.

“I don’t need a grand, and I’m sure the others will be fine. It’s a good cause, right?”

"Her sister was killed by a drunk driver, but she and Hadley had been tennis players, so Delaney started a foundation that donates equipment and training to lower-income kids and also scholarships so they can play in college."

“Take my money!” Theo says emphatically. I smile and he slaps my shoulder. “You gonna date her?”

"I think it's safe to say I am." Yeah, it's crazy and fast, and yet it's also everything I never knew I was missing.

“The world is fucking wacky,” Theo adds with a shake of his head as the security guard holds the door open for us and we make our way to the dressing room.

As I suspected, the other guys are on board with fulfilling the obligation I made on stage, all except Tyson.

He grumbles that it wasn't my money to give away, but Evan shuts him up by volunteering to cover his grand.

Red in the face, literally, Tyson mutters, “Whatever, keep it. I gotta get my skates sharpened.”

He storms off in his Under Armor shirt and sweatpants.

“Ignore him,” Evan tells me. “He’s just being a baby because Coach is starting you.”

I nod. He texted me that I was starting while I was getting ready at home, so it makes sense that he also messaged Tyson.

I was a bit shocked, but I’m also confident.

Delaney agreed to go to the game tonight, so I have a ticket waiting for her at Will Call.

I hope having her in the stands, cheering me on, will help me get the job done.

But I know no matter what, she’ll still be in my corner at the end of the game, and that most definitely takes the pressure off facing her brother .

Tyson comes back to the locker room way late, I note, but I don’t say anything.

I have a feeling I need to give him space tonight.

We head out for warm-ups, me first as usual.

Our fans roar as my skates hit the ice. It’s always a great feeling.

These people put their time and money and heart and soul into supporting us, and it's an honor I don't take for granted.

The Saints skate onto the ice, too, but I make a point to ignore them.

Normally, I would watch their faces as they do their drills and stretch.

Look for who seems tired, who looks cocky, watch their shots on net, and see who likes five-hole and who tends to go top shelf.

I’d also be looking for Ryan, but I am definitely not doing that.

Delaney told me last night, over dinner at Fogo De Chow off the strip, that she had reached out to her brother and tried to explain our connection.

She told Ryan how we knew each other, how we liked each other, how the connection sparked again even before we realized we had a history.

But Ryan didn’t give a shit. He was furious.

She doesn’t seem to care, and I hope that doesn't change because I certainly don't care what he thinks.

After I stretch, take some shots from the guys, and do a couple laps around our side of the ice, I stop by the boards at the blue line to stretch again because my groin feels tight, and that's when I find out that Delaney might not care, but Ryan still does.

The clue comes as a snow shower to my face as I'm butterflied on the ice, stretching my groin.

I blink furiously and pull my legs in. I see his skates and stare up at him, eyes narrowed as I growl out, “Not cool, Moore.”

“What kind of fucking psycho fucks my sister as hockey strategy?” He snarls, glaring down at me. Like most idiots, he doesn't wear a helmet during warm-ups, so the wrath is clearly visible on his face.

"Trust me, you have nothing to do with my involvement with Delaney," I say, still on my knees as I wipe the ice shavings off my face.

“Get the fuck out of here, Moore. I’m not saying it twice.” Theo is beside me now, smacking his stick aggressively on the ice. He must have seen the snow shower .

I know if this goes on a few seconds longer, the refs will notice and there will be penalties, or worse—game misconducts and league fines—before the game even starts.

That’s the last thing any of us needs, so I get to my feet and put a hand on Theo, pushing him back a bit.

I face Ryan. “Dude, you have this all wrong.”

“Not according to Michaels,” he snaps, and it takes me a hot second until it hits me.

“Tyson?”

“He told me everything,” Ryan says. “How you thought it would throw me off my game if you fucked my sister.”

“Whoa. No,” Theo says, his brown eyes the size of hockey pucks that are flying by. “That’s not… We didn’t know she was your sister.”

I’m not sure that’s helpful. Shit.

“Ryan, I have no ulterior motive with Delaney.” I know he doesn’t care to register the sincerity in my tone.

“Tell that to my sister,” he says, leaning into me so the logos on our shirts are touching. “Because she knows everything. I found her before the game and told her.”

“You really are a shit stain,” Theo hisses.

“Boys!” The ref’s voice is hard and sharp. “We got a problem here?”

Ryan skates off, and so the ref turns to us with a pointed stare. Theo taps my ass with his stick. "He's bluffing. Skate it off and get in net. We got work to do."

I grab my stick and skate to the crease, but all I want to do is skate right off the ice and comb the arena until I find Delaney… if she’s even here. I doubt I would stick around if I thought someone used me as a pawn in some stupid psychological warfare tactic for hockey.

Shit. I am so fucked.

The game is the hardest of my life. Not because I'm struggling physically, but because with every minute of every period, my agitation increases. All I want to do is see Delaney, explain the truth, and beg forgiveness for anything that offends her.

In the first, I let in an easy goal, but thankfully, it's not by Ryan, and it's not the first goal of the game. Matthews had already scored for us, so my blunder just ties it up.

“Starting at zero, got nothing to lose,” Theo sings as he skates by my net on a TV timeout.

That’s how we think of a tied game. It’s like being at zero-zero again.

A reset. Pressure off. I nod at him and look across the ice to the Saints’ bench.

Ryan is leaning against the boards, squirting water into his foul mouth and glaring at me.

I scan the private section where friends and family sit.

I see her. She’s sitting in the third row from the back of the section in a Vegas jersey she must have just purchased.

It looks brand new. Her arms are folded across the logo, and she isn't smiling, but she's here.

It’s too far away to make eye contact, but I mouth the words It's not what you think anyway and lift a gloved hand toward her.

As the players make their way to face-off, I crouch and pull my head back into the game. First, I win the game, and then I win her over. I refuse to lose anything tonight.