Page 12

Chapter 12

ZACK

I wipe the sweat from my face after my workout, smiling slightly to myself. Catching Amber watching me work out was the highlight of my day. She blushed so hard I half expected her hair to catch fire.

I’m still laughing at the look on her face when I hit the locker room—until I catch what the guys are saying.

“She’s way hotter than a doctor should be, if you ask me,” Brody says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He’s one of our goalies, and one of the only guys on the team who’s taller than me.

“That red hair really does it for me.” Blake joins in the conversation. “And that body? Damn!”

My stomach sinks when I realize they’re talking about Amber. I shouldn’t feel so protective over her – I have no right to think of her as mine. And yet, somehow I do.

“Those curves are killer,” Brody agrees. “I wonder if she’s single?”

Anger bubbles up inside me. “That’s Dr. Morrison to you. Show some respect.” I don’t mean to snap, but it comes out sharp. “Would you say crap like that about Coach Green? ”

Blake and Brody glance at each other and burst out laughing. “I mean, probably, if Coach Green was that hot,” Brody says with a snicker.

“Come on, Zack.” Blake grins as he slaps me on the back. “Morrison’s a shrink, not a coach. And personally? I like women who make me feel ten feet tall, not... you know. Small.” His smirk earns a round of laughs from the guys.

I shove him off me. “Grow up, Blake.” I stalk toward the showers, needing to get away from him. “You need to focus on your game on the ice, not on the team psychologist.” I find myself practicing some of Amber’s self-regulation tips, starting with a deep breath on my next step.

“Sounds like someone’s got a little crush,” Blake mutters as I pass him. “Better hope Joyce doesn’t hear about this.” I hear a few oohs from the others, and I know I can’t let his comment slide. (If they only knew that Joyce is a place , not a woman I'm dating. That little white lie has gone on a long time, but now is not the time to deal with that.)

I turn on Blake again, channeling every ounce of disgust into my voice. “You don’t know anything. I just value my team more than the latest hot piece that catches my eye. You should try it sometime.”

That shuts him up. The other guys look at him now, not me, and for once he’s got nothing to say. I head to the showers without another word

But the second the water hits my skin, the doubt starts creeping in.

I meant what I said—but maybe I said too much.

I’m not like some of the guys in the locker room, never have been. But I’ve also never called them out before. I usually keep my head down and my mouth shut. Not today. Today, I defended Amber like it was my job.

Too passionately?

Maybe.

Will they think there’s something going on between us?

I scrub a hand over my face. The problem is, I don’t even know if something’s going on between us..

The way Amber looked at me today… it’s messing with my head. And I can’t stop thinking about her. Her affect on me—it’s getting impossible to ignore.

I keep replaying things over and over in my head, seeing the moment Amber was watching me in the gym with what looked like longing on her face. It messed me up. I’ve been replaying it on a loop ever since. That small, wide-eyed moment where she saw me, and I saw her seeing me—it felt good. Too good. .

And then I remember Blake’s smirk. The laughter. The stupid comment. I defended her without thinking, but now I’m thinking too much. Because if there is something between us—even the beginning of something—what does that mean?

At best, I’m a hypocrite. At worst, I’m playing with fire.

I lay awake that night, my brain running laps around the same questions. I flip my pillow, then bury my face in it with a groan.

I can’t believe I’m still thinking about whether I’m having an effect on Amber.

I really can’t believe the effect she’s having on me.

Our next practice is a scrimmage, and I know I need to put my best foot forward. I go through the motions during warm-ups, hoping that the lifetime I’ve spent practicing will get me through this game. It’s not a real game, not even a preseason game, but tensions are running high. It’ll be the first time we’ve gone up against each other like this with our new team configuration. Everyone wants to prove themselves today.

Coach Green splits us into Group A and Group B. I’m in Group B today, so I skate over to the left to join the rest of the guys on my side. Since it’s just a scrimmage, Coach lets us decide our own order and when we’re going to swap out for our different shifts.

“I’ll start.” I volunteer quickly to be the first one out, as I always do. “How about Blake and Mark for the other forwards, and then Alec and Cal on defense?”

They mutter their agreement and shuffle around, the five of us getting into position while everyone else heads to the bench except for Brody, who glides into his spot by the net. We’ll rotate out every few minutes to make sure everyone gets time on the ice. It’s good practice for a game, when we take short shifts to keep our energy up.

“Let’s have a nice, clean game, gentlemen.” Coach Green approaches the center of the rink, where I’m facing off against Griffin. “We’ll play two thirty-minute halves, and we’ll have the clock running to keep an eye on the time. But no unnecessary contact, and no fights today. Save it for the season.”

Coach Green glances between me and Griffin, making sure we both have our sticks touching the ice, before dropping the puck.

I’m expecting to be able to snake it right out from under Griff, but he surprises me, getting in under my guard and snagging the puck. He shoots it right between his legs to Jason, who slaps it to Aaron, the right winger for Group A.

Aaron takes it down the ice before I can catch up. Mark tries to get in his way, but he dodges him, circling the goal and shooting the puck across to Griff, who sends it right over Brody’s shoulder for their first point.

“Colt! Where were you?” Coach Green calls. “Get in there!”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. Somehow I wasn’t ready for Griff to pull that move on me, I didn’t counter it in time. I glance into the stands, where Amber sits with her tablet, as always. I don’t want her to see me like this.

It’s only been a minute, so I’m not ready to swap out just yet. I head back to center and size Griffin up. He gives me a goofy grin from behind his face guard. “Ready to go again?”

I give him a silent nod, gathering my concentration. This time, when Coach Green drops the puck, I’m able to get behind it, but Griff fends me off. Our sticks clash, and although I’m able to send the puck spinning away to Cal, it’s a weak pass, and he has to lunge for it.

I dig my feet in and push around Griffin, trying to get myself open, but then Jason’s in front of me, completely blocking my path. He’s a better skater than I am, smaller and faster, but I try to use my bulk to push through him.

“Coach said no contact!” Jason grunts as I slam into him.

“No unnecessary contact,” I remind him. “This seems pretty necessary to–”

Suddenly Jason spins away, and I lurch forward, hitting the ice hard. The smack echoes in my helmet, and it takes me a second to blink the daze away.

Then I hear the whistle.

“Colt, out! Harris, in!” Coach Green’s voice echoes across the ice. I drop my head and skate to the bench as quickly as possible, sitting down at the far end of the line. I’m glad my helmet covers my ears. I can feel them turning red from embarrassment.

I take my moment on the bench to drink some water and watch my teammates. Annoyingly, they seem to be doing better without me. There are two other centers for me to rotate with, so I’ve got a good long time on the bench to feel sorry for myself.

My eyes find Amber in the stands, as they so often do. She’s not watching the game anymore. Instead, she’s looking at me, her brow furrowed. Our eyes lock, and warmth courses through me. It doesn’t matter how hard I wish I didn’t feel anything when I look at her, I still do.

But she’s clearly distracting me. First I get in trouble for showing off, now I get benched for not doing enough. I can’t let go and just play the game when she’s here—I’m performing, thinking about how it’ll look to her instead of what’s best for the team. It’s been getting worse since day one.

Everything I’ve ever felt for Amber Morrison is crashing back–louder, sharper, harder to ignore. And I’m done pretending her presence doesn’t affect me anymore, because it does. She’s not just in my head anymore. She’s under my skin, and oh so much more.

I've spent weeks convincing myself this couldn't happen, but locking eyes with Amber in the stands just now, I realize it already has. I am consumed with Amber Morrison.