Page 22

Gwen

“ H ey, Ladybug.” Rusty, who was captain of the Manhattan Maimers, waved as she and a few others left the small rink at the training center. Her hair was bright red, and she had a lot of elaborate plant tattoos.

“Hi, Rusty!” It was Sunday afternoon. I was tired and a little hungover from Dimitri’s party, which had been exactly what I needed. Well, except for the part where I nearly kissed Clark.

Would it be that bad? I mean, Clark was sweet, cute, kind…

I shook it off. Yeah, it was just me wanting to be dicked down. I wasn’t nearly ready to date again.

But I could date Clark so easily. Tenzin, too. Valya’s words about dating them both came back to me.

Hmmm. We’d see.

My phone beeped, and I got yet another picture of Tenzin with a large fish in a cheesy pose.

Me

It’s such a big fish!

Tenzin

You should see the one that got away.

This is Cooter. Mine is bigger.

Putting away my phone with a snort, I took to the ice and got warmed up. Clark, Carlos, and Dimitri would be here shortly.

While I hadn’t played tennis today, I’d gone to Athlete World with Mercy and Home Things with Carlos, then taught my goalie lessons. Now I had a bit of a break, until I did the evening shift at the rink.

“Get off the ice, Wendel. We’re using it.” Windy came onto the ice, wearing a Knights’ T-shirt–as were the handful of people with him.

Prospect development camp started officially tomorrow. It was where a team gathered all their draft picks, those from their farm team, and those they might be watching, especially internationally, for a week of on and off-ice training. Austin had been to the Ace’s camp many times.

Everyone got in this morning, and they were doing health assessments and tours. Coach Kirov had invited me to the barbecue they were having tonight, but I had work.

“Fuck off, Windy.” I rolled my eyes. Windy was in his last year at UNYC, one of Austin’s besties, and a Knights’ draft pick. The alpha was about the same height and build as Austin, but had dark hair and eyes.

He was also a colossal knotwaffle.

“No, you fuck off, Wendel. You’re only allowed to use this rink when your betters let you, and I say that you need to leave.” Windy tried to swat my legs with his stick. I caught his stick with mine and twisted, knocking it out of his hands.

“Your name is Wendel?” a guy drawled. He had a baby face and was probably one of this year’s draft picks.

“It’s Gwen. Is Marlin here?” I asked, looking for someone I knew.

Everyone wore matching black and silver shirts and shorts. They all had their sticks and skates, and minimal gear.

I was wearing leggings, with a sports bra, and a crop-top I’d gotten today at Athlete's World that said Puck Off. I’d gotten a bunch of cute tanks and crop-tops.

“Marlin got traded to the Tsunamis,” someone I didn’t know replied. The Tsunamis were Hawai’i’s team.

“Oh, I wanted my cards read, but good for him,” I replied. Marlin had been an EBUG with the Knights my first year here. When he’d met Austin, he’d thrown the entire contents of a salt shaker on him. I’d brushed it off as general goalie weirdness, but maybe he was on to something.

“Leave, Wendel.” Windy got in my face, and pushed me hard. I tumbled backward.

“Is there a problem here?” Dimitri growled, coming onto the ice with Clark, Carlos, and Anders.

“Gwen. Are you okay? Fuck off, Windy.” Clark helped me up off the ice, concern on his face and in his hay and sunshine scent.

Right, they knew each other from last year’s developmental camp and prospect tournaments. Windy didn’t like that Clark not only was signed, but got a spot on the Knights’ roster–while he’d been sent back to UNYC with no contract.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Clark snapped as Dimitri shoved Windy.

“Well, if she’d leave when she was told, I wouldn’t have to make her.” Windy made a face, moving to shove Dimitri back, then thinking better of it.

“Who says you get to tell Ladybug when to leave?” Jonas stood there with Grif and Dean, who was eating a snow cone.

Windy took a step back. “Tony only lets her use the rink when the professionals aren’t.”

“If I ever hear you talk to anyone the way you talked to Gwen, I’ll have you tossed out of here so fast your balls will spin. And,” Jonas gave Windy a shove. “You hit anyone again, you’ll answer to me. We don’t tolerate abusive alphaholes here on the Knights. That goes for all of you. Want to be a douche? Go play for Motor City.”

“Also, EBUGs are still goalies. You touch the goalie, you will get your ass beat,” Dean replied, taking another lick of his snow cone.

“Sorry?” the one with the drawl said.

“Hey, Coach said we we're on Rink B.” Shauna Castle joined us. She waved at me, Grif, Dean, and Jonas. “Oh, hey guys. Now I want a fucking snow cone, Double D.”

“They’re delicious, you should get one.” Dean toasted her with the cone.

I loved Castle. She was a forward, and tall, blonde, and muscular. We’d played against each other a bit in junior hockey. Also, she was a Bantam and had filled in a few times last year. She was friends with Carlos and some of the Maimers and occasionally popped up at Dimitri’s parties.

“Hey, Castle. Okay, Rink B, six on six. Now,” Jonas growled.

“I’ll ref,” Dean offered. “I think we’re crashing Ladybug’s practice party.”

He gave them what was probably meant to be a menacing grin. Dean was a big, himbo goofball even when his lips weren’t blue with snow cone.

“Why are you hesitating? Move,” Jonas growled.

The developmental camp players left, hurrying over to Rink B.

“You sure?” I asked Dean.

“I have a snow cone. We were here to be a menace, because Mercy needed to practice some jumps.” He shrugged. “Also, you get a taco for every shot you block.”

“I do? Do I have to eat them all at once? I can’t out-eat Dimitri in a taco eating contest.” I always came in second. Sometimes third, depending on who joined in at Taco Hut for dollar tacos.

“Nope,” Dean replied.

“Sounds good. Please bribe me with tacos.” I grabbed my gear.

As we walked over to the ice, Jonas assigned everyone else a spot, and Grif went to go get his and Jonas’ sticks.

Clark was center, Carlos left wing, Grif Graf right. Jonas and Dimitri were defense. Anders was on reserve. I threw on some gear. When I joined them on the ice, Dean was standing there in the middle, with a whistle and his snow cone.

Coach Steve Atkins appeared along with some of the other campers, who, like the ones positioned on the other side of Rink B, all wore their matchy-matchy developmental camp outfits.

“Double D, am I interrupting something?” Coach gave Dean an amused look. Coach Atkins was a big guy, and older, with graying hair, but still fit. He was a bit of a legend, having won several championships and the Olympics. Which was also where he’d met most of his pack.

“One of your hoodlums likes to mouth off. So we’re going to see if they play as good as they talk, Coach,” Jonas replied, giving Windy a hard stare.

“I want to make substitutions.” Windy looked over at the other players.

“No.” Jonas shook his head.

Coach’s eyes fell on me. “If Dean’s ref, who’s in the net?”

“Ladybug,” Jonas replied.

I skated back and forth, getting the crease ready, since the ice looked freshly resurfaced.

It wasn’t a bad lineup. Unfortunately, Windy was good. Better than Austin. Coach had everyone not playing take a seat. Dean announced the rules, then he blew his whistle and we were off.

Over and over, I ignored Windy and blocked his shots. One from Castle got through, but that was after Grif had scored twice on their goalie. As much as I hated letting pucks in, I remembered what my nonna’s neighbor had told me.

It’s okay if you let one in sometimes, the trick is to let in less than the other goalie.

There was a lot of sweat and determined faces because, unlike a normal game, there were no line changes. It didn’t bother me. I was a goalie and we played the whole fucking game. My team was up three to one. I’d blocked five shots.

Dean blew the whistle. “Time.”

Windy didn’t stop, going right for me, knocking Dimitri over, then he hit a slap shot, low and hard, right at me. This particular version wasn’t legal in the PHL, but was in collegiate hockey.

Windy and Austin liked it because it meant the goalie had to drop to stop it. One advantage of being shorter was that I didn’t have as far to go. I caught the puck in my glove.

Mine.

Windy palmed my mask with enough force to make me fall backward.

Dean blew his whistle again. “Foul on team hoodlum.”

“Back off, Windy, you don’t touch the fucking goalie. I should beat your ass for that.” Jonas smacked him upside the head, while Dimitri helped me up.

“Windy, bench. That was uncalled for,” Coach Atkins yelled, coming onto the ice. “Jonas is right, that will start a brawl. I see you do shit like that again and you’ll be doing sprints until you puke.” He looked at me. “Are you okay, Ladybug?”

“I’m good, Coach.” I nodded, and I patted the goalpost. Good post.

Coach looked at Jonas. “Play another round? I want to give a few others a chance.”

“Sure, we were going to play two periods anyway.” Jonas nodded.

“We’ll do three. Make whatever line changes you need.” Coach switched around some players.

“AJ, want to play?” Jonas called. AJ sat in the bleachers with Verity and Mercy. There were a lot of people watching.

“I need a stick,” AJ called.

“Take mine.” Clark skated over, giving AJ his.

While AJ had to retire from the Biscayne Bay Hurricanes because of a knee injury, he was still a really good player. He sometimes filled in on one of the all-finance bro recreational league teams that practiced here. Myra, their goalie, was insane on the ice.

“Anders, can you take left wing?” Jonas asked. He looked at Dimitri, “Good?”

“Good.” Dimitri nodded.

Jonas looked at me. “Is Bucket here?”

“Portland. And I’m good.” I grinned. “I have five tacos.”

Dean blew the whistle, and we started again. By the time the third period finished, I was drenched in sweat and had fourteen tacos. I’d let in one more puck. We won seven to two.

Coach looked at me. “Good job, Ladybug. Someone’s been working hard this summer.”

“Thanks.” Wow, he noticed? That made me happy, because I’d been working my tits off. I gave the goalpost another pat for being such a good post.

“Everyone on the ice for drills, let’s go. Knights, you can stay, too, if you want,” Coach yelled.

“I’m staying.” Mercy was on the ice in a red crop-top, red knee-socks, and white cargo shorts.

“Mercy, you don’t even play hockey.” Coach gave her a puzzled look.

“I don’t play professional hockey. I know how to play.” Her eyes rolled. “Also, we’re doing drills .”

“Who’s that hot brunette? Those legs. I think I’ve seen her somewhere. Dimitri’s parties?” Castle said softly to me.

“Mercy Thorne. Crusher for the Maimers. Her sister’s mated to Jonas, Dean, and Grif,” I whispered back. “She’s single. However, she only just turned eighteen, and also lives with her sister and said hockey players. So far not allowed at Dimitri’s parties.”

“Mmmm. Sounds fun.” Castle nodded. “You were good out there.”

Coach blew his whistle. “Less talking.”

Castle waved and skated off.

“Come on, let’s go do goalie shit.” Dean grabbed my arm and dragged me off the ice.

I waved to Clark, who’d joined the rest of our friends with Coach and the summer crew.

We found ourselves back on the small rink. I drained my water bottle. “I’d hoped goalie shit meant making ice cream sundaes in the kitchen.”

“We can do that, after. You did such a good job that you get a lesson from me.” Dean grinned. “No, seriously, you did good. But I think I can help you be better. I’ve been training with fucking Callahan a little this summer at the rink by our cabin.”

“Put me in, Coach.” I’d take any help he wanted to give me.

Dean worked me hard until I play-collapsed onto the ice, letting it cool me down.

“You’re a fucking weirdo.” Dean laughed as I made ice angels.

“Says the goalie,” I laughed back, taking his hand and letting him help me up.

We took off our skates and snuck upstairs to the empty dining room. Slipping into the kitchen, we found the ice cream, and made ourselves some sundaes.

“Do you have an agent?” Dean asked as we sat on the counter and ate ice cream out of little plastic hockey helmets, since we couldn’t find any bowls.

“No. But I’ve been making inquiries and sending my videos. I know I should have one by now. My ex always said I didn’t need one yet. When I did, I’d sign with his, and if people wanted to get a hold of me, they’d talk to my coach.”

I let the sugary goodness explode over my tongue. The ice cream was probably for Squire camp, but there was plenty of it.

“Who are you looking at?” He took a bite.

I told him about the ones I’d followed up with, a couple that had replied, and a few I was interested in. So far no takers, a lot of, “ Your stats are great, please tell me you’re still growing.” Yeah, I was twenty-two and a female beta. Five-foot-eight was as good as it was going to get–and I was lucky to be this tall.

Dean got out his phone. “I’m sending you my agent’s contact info. Tonight you’re going to email him that you’re in your third year of the Knights’ goalie development program, you’re in your last year at NYIT, you’ve won two championships, and drop my name. Then add your video and your stats. Thank him and that’s it. No fluff, just the facts. Can you do that?”

“I… I can. Thank you.” Wow. “You’re repped by Stu Thomas at Venture. He’s one of the top agents in hockey.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted an agent like that, because would he have time for me?

“He is, and let me tell you, he saved my ass. When I was outed as an omega back when I was with the Aces, my career wouldn’t have survived like it did without him. Same with Grif, when he was outed last year. Also, Stu was instrumental in helping with all the problems we had last season with Grif’s old agent. An agent like Stu can be the difference between your career tanking and thriving when your past comes back to haunt you,” Dean told me.

I sucked in a breath. How did he know?

“I won’t tell. Were you waiting for Austin to get signed, then you could mate and stay on the same team? I mean, I know that rule is only valid if both have contracts, but it’s only a matter of time for you,” Dean asked quietly.

Oh. That’s what Dean thought my secret was? The PHL allowed mated alpha and omega players to stay together on the same team. Spouses didn’t get that privilege. Packs only got it if they had a pack contract.

“Much to my ex’s chagrin, I’m not an omega, Dean. Just a beta.” I shrugged. “I’d be tall for a female omega.”

Clearly, that had been Austin’s plan. Also, my past could come back to haunt me at any time. It had once since I’d come to New York–it was only a matter of time before it happened again.

“Grif and I are tall omegas. So is Molly on the Belugas.” His look was skeptical. “Still, email Stu. He probably won’t email or call you back. I have to work on him. He thinks you’re too short.”

“Most teams do.” I laughed. Sure, I’d do it. Maybe he’d pass me on to someone else in the agency.

Dean continued to give me pointers as we ate. We finished our ice cream. No one had found us yet. My phone was quiet, though I had to go to work soon, and should shower.

“Want to play ping-pong? Ping-pong is good for goalies.” Dean hopped off the counter.

“Sure, I have a little time before I have to go to work.” I slid off and rinsed off my helmet bowl. I could always go to work smelly. After all, I was just working in skate rental with Desiree.

Dean was winning when a bunch of the prospects came back up, heading straight for the drinks and snacks.

“I should probably get ready for work,” I told Dean, well aware that Windy was trying to murder me with his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

I found the others in the main weight room.

“Where did you go?” Clark asked, as he benched some weights with Anders.

“Double D and I were doing goalie shit.” I shrugged. Grif and Jonas were working out, too.

“Stacking pucks?” Anders laughed.

I scratched my nose with my middle finger.

Dimitri came in and went straight for Grif. “Here’s your cat. Carlos left him at my party last night. He’s still hungover.”

“Of course he is. Fuck, Lucky. You need to go easy on the beer,” Grif scolded as he took a handful of nothing.

“I think he was doing body shots with the models.” I laughed.

“Is it time for work?” Clark asked. “I should be home by the time you get off. We’re going to crash the barbeque, then head to Tito’s or play video games at Dimitri’s. Let me know if you want me to pick you up?”

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” It was a sweet offer–and I did like riding on the back of his motorcycle.

Clark sat up and wiped his forehead with a towel. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

The alarm beeped on my phone and I sighed. “See you tonight.”

I’d rather go to the barbeque and hang out with them, but I’d taken last night off. While I might have clothes and other cute things, those wouldn’t pay my tuition.