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Caleb

As Leo approaches, I’m ready to fall at his feet and beg forgiveness.

I hate myself for not being strong enough to let him repair his relationship with Mason.

After tons of soul-searching, I have to face the facts.

My love for Leo is worth the risk of losing Mason. Hopefully, I won’t have to choose.

Losing Mason will damage my heart, but losing Leo will decimate it.

Mason was right. Life is unfair.

Earlier, I asked Grayson not to let anyone see me all messed up, but I didn’t realize he’d stop Leo from coming in. By the time Gray went to get him, Leo was gone. The biggest mistake of my life because, from his expression, he thinks I’m giving up on us.

I’m wearing my tiger eye crystal for him so it’s gotta give us some good vibes.

Leo holds up his hand to stop the shooting drill, but I see the puck Mason hit and everything happens in slow motion yet in the blink of an eye.

“Leoooooo,” I scream.

My world crashes to the ice with Leo.

He has to be okay. His larger-than-life frame crumples on the frozen slab.

His aura fades, and I can’t see it.

My heart cracks, bleeding out, regretting every second I’ve been away from him.

The time it takes to reach him feels like I had to skate underwater with weights for a year.

When I get to him, my pads and gloves are in the way and he’s not moving. “Help,” I yell, and see Grayson and Doc barreling toward us.

It can’t end like this.

He has to know I love him, and my stupid reason for leaving him.

Holding back a sob, I see the blood oozing from his mouth and his crooked jaw.

“Leo. Leo, wake up.” I need to tell him how much he means to me. We belong together—I don’t care what anyone thinks.

I’m thankful Doc and Gray kneel on the other side of him. “Pulse is strong,” Doc says.

Leo opens his eyes and reaches for me. “Beebee da,” he mumbles, and the relief shocks my system, allowing air to flow into my lungs.

“Don’t talk, Leo. Your jaw is most likely broken.” Grayson gets the stretcher in position, but Leo tries to wave it away and sit up.

“Don’t fight us, Griffin,” Doc scolds. “You were out cold, and we’re taking you by a stretcher to the ambulance.” We work together, and the EMTs pick him up.

“I’m going with you.” I grab his foot and skate behind them.

“Naanoo,” Leo sputters, unable to get his jaw to work, and more blood spurts out.

I deserve this. I pushed him away, and now he’s rejecting me. Leo snaps his fingers, getting my attention.

His hands make a heart over his chest, and his eyes tell me he loves me.

“Me too. But let me come with you.” My eyes sting, and I do my best to hold my emotions in because the press is here.

Leo makes a sweeping motion with his arms, then crosses his forearms in an X. He wants me to play.

I hear Coach yell, “Griffin, you going with your dad or playing?”

“Umm, I’ll, uh, I’ll play.”

My hand tightens on Leo’s foot.

“I’m going with him. I promise to take care of him for you.” Gray’s steady voice is the only reason I release Leo and do what he asks.

As Leo’s stretcher disappears, my fear turns to rage. I’m a bullet on the ice, intent on destruction. I tackle Mason at full speed. He could’ve killed his father.

My gloves are off, and I’m punching. “You did that on purpose. I saw you.” I’m not in control of myself, seeing only Leo’s lifeless body on the ice.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that.” Mason blocks my blows.

“You hurt him. I saw the look in your eyes, asshole.” He’s not hitting me back.

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“Break it up.” Ace pulls us apart.

My first NHL fist fight is with my former best friend.

Ace holds Mason, and Liska gets me in his iron grip. I’m breathing heavily through my nose and sound deranged.

“You’re on the same team. You got aggression? Take it out on Cincinnati. You good?” Fury rolls off Ace.

“Fine.” Mason shrugs out of Ace’s hold and fixes his jersey.

Liska doesn’t let go of me, and we skate to the goal he was warming up in. “He vants you to play. You play. Mason can vait.”

My jaw ticks, reminding me of Leo’s crooked bones, and tears come to my eyes.

“He’ll be fine. You play, he gets better, you kiss and make up.”

I stare at Liska, and he laughs, knocking me with a meaty shoulder.

“Vhen you came here, you followed me around and vanted to know everything.” He grins wider when I agree. “I know vhat your professional interest face looks like. And now I see hearts in your eyes. And his.”

My head spins, and it’s worse because Leo and I aren’t…but maybe we are.

“Play for Leo.” Liska taps me on the head and dismisses me.

I handled this entire situation wrong, acting as if my love for Leo is shameful.

It’s not. I’m lucky to have a man like Leo love me, and I should shout it from the rooftops instead of hiding like a scared coward.

Mason was right about that. I will never make Leo choose between us.

Leo either loves me enough to make this work or not.

He suggested we tell Mason, and he told Ari Dimon. Leo isn’t afraid of what happens if people know. The worst part of my revelations is that my mother is right. Fuck. That’s annoying, but I won’t leave Leo again. If he ends our relationship, I’ll handle it, but I am never letting go if he doesn’t.

Liska plays the first period, giving me time to center myself, do some chanting, and block out the negative energy. I feel a swell of white light within me and know without a doubt it’s my mother at work. Sometimes her abilities astound me.

Both Coach and Liska check on me, and I won’t let them down. Cincinnati isn’t having a good season, and we’re up by two goals, so I’m confident.

Taking my place in the net, my pipes talk to me and are ready to assist.

Cincy’s aggressive and strips the puck from Lucky and makes quick passes to set themselves up. I hear Leo’s voice in my head quoting the stats of shots their right winger takes, and I listen, saving the high right when I would’ve fallen for the fake out.

I feed the puck to Ace, who also seems to have extra aggression.

Mason scores on his first shift in the second period, making the score three to one in our favor.

Cincinnati is relentless. I make three more saves, and another one is deflected off the pipes. I thank my pipe after we clear the puck.

Lucky and Drake battle two Cincy players against the boards. The puck flies free, and their center takes it around the back of the goal. Our defender cuts off the shooting angle, and we regain control.

We lose the puck on a shift change, and Mason covers a winger.

Cincy sets up in a formation we’ve reviewed on tape a hundred times.

I expect Mason to cut off his shooting angle as we practiced, and I ready myself for the shot after the pass.

But Mason slows and doesn’t cut off either angle.

I’m so stunned I’m a second too late to stop the puck, and the lamp lights up.

King gets in his face and mirrors my fury. King is one of the most levelheaded guys on our team, so his temper brings a shade of shame to Mason’s face.

We hit the locker room with a score of four to two, and I sit back and listen to Coach rip into Mason. I’m next and I deserve it. If I hadn’t been so sure of Mason’s play, I would’ve been ready.

“Won’t happen again, Coach.”

Liska’s playing this period, but I re-tape the grip on my stick just in case.

My teammates tap my skates as they pass by and praise my goaltending.

Normally, I would eat it up, and I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not a ‘job well done’ as much as a ‘we stand behind you.’ The last thing this team needs is a division among teammates.

Six minutes into the third period, Liska saves a goal, and when he dishes it back out, there’s a tussle and a Cincy player falls on him, taking him to the ice.

Liska’s slow to get up, and Coach sends me a look to be ready. Ace helps Liska up, and he’s in obvious pain skating to the bench. I vault over the boards and tap my stick on the pipes when I get in goal.

On our next possession, King flicks his wrist and slides one between the goalie’s legs. Mason wraps him in a hug, and the arena cheers, stomping their feet.

Next shot on my goal, I watch the play unfold and catch the puck in my glove. I love hearing the satisfying smack of rubber on leather.

Cincy isn’t going down without a fight, and I earn my paycheck tonight with more saves and deflections.

At the end of the game, we’ve won five to three.

Ari Dimon’s standing at the mouth of the tunnel, talking to Mason, and beckons me over. Mason tries to talk to me, but Mr. Dimon cuts him off.

“Do not say a word to the media, shower, then you’re coming with me.”

I don’t ask why or where, nodding and hauling my ass to the locker room, trusting Mr. Dimon.

“I’m sorry,” Mason says, but I’m not the one he needs to apologize to.

I fake a smile but don’t say a word to the reporters and take the fastest shower ever.

Mr. Dimon is speaking to his driver down the hall from the locker room. “Mr. Benz, please wait in the car. I need to speak to Mr. Griffin.”

Dutifully, I follow the driver out to a large black sedan with tinted windows. I assume we’re going to the hospital, since he also talked to Mason, but I’m surprised at how long they’re taking. Mason was putting his shoes on when I left.

Checking my phone, I’m relieved to see an update from Gray.

Gray: He has a broken jaw going into surgery. I’ll keep you updated

Me: How is he?

Me: What are they doing?

Me: How long will it take?

Me: Have you seen him yet?

Gray: He should be out of surgery soon and I’ll text immediately

I’ve been in the car for twenty-ish years, and my bouncing leg could propel me to the hospital in record time. Grabbing a taxi isn’t worth it because it would take too long, and I’d risk being mobbed by fans.

The driver gets out and hurries around to open the back door.

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Mr. Dimon slides in, and the door closes behind him.

“We have to go to the hospital. Leo’s in surgery,” I say as we pull into traffic. Only then do I notice the police escort.

He frowns. “I was hoping to talk to you before you heard about it.”

“I texted Grayson. Where’s Mason?” I ask.

“Leo’s lower jaw is broken, and they need to put a plate in so it heals correctly.

The surgeons assure me it will be a relatively simple procedure.

After surgery, his jaw will be wired shut for a few weeks, but after that, he should make a full recovery,” Ari says.

It’s what I should have expected, but the thought of Leo being in pain and needing to recover chills my bones.

I notice he didn’t say a word about Mason. Mason’s blowing up my phone, but I don’t read his texts. My focus needs to be on Leo.

“Thank you for this.” I wave at the police car clearing the way for us.

Mr. Dimon frowns. “We are not a team that attacks each other. I cannot tolerate violence against a teammate.” He holds his hand up when I try to speak.

“There were, let’s call it, extenuating circumstances.

The media caught it all on tape, and very few think the hit Leo took was an accident.

Mr. Mason Griffin is being obliterated by the media and hockey fans. ”

“Crap-on-a-cracker.” A scandal worse than a nightmare, which means I left Leo for nothing. Mason says he’s sorry, but he hurt his father, and the press won’t let this go. The flash of vindication lasts a mere second before sadness takes its place.

“On principle, I’m fining you and suspending you for half a game, which you served tonight.”

I’m stunned by his gracious gift. “That’s more than I deserve.” I duck my head, embarrassed.

Mr. Dimon checks his phone. “Perfect timing. Leo’s going into recovery.” The car stops at the hospital’s entrance.