Page 18

CHAPTER 18

JACE

I think I broke Axel.

Worse, I thought maybe he broke me too.

I was nervous walking into the rink today, but not in my usual way. Instead of struggling with the urge to puke, I was jittery and confused, a menagerie of butterflies fluttered away in my stomach. Or maybe it was a whole flock of baby birds. I felt like a high school kid on the first day of class, wondering where to go, who to talk to, and if anyone would sit with me during lunch. Not that I doubted my ability to find my footing. But everyone had nerves, even confident players like me.

No, this wasn’t my usual pre-game anxiety. It wasn’t about hockey.

It was about Axel.

He was staring at me, not scowling, and it seemed like no matter where I moved, his eyes followed, tracking me. When he smiled earlier, I was so shocked that I tripped, like I was performing a comedy skit. I hadn’t been that clumsy since, well, since I put on my first pair of skates. Oddly enough, I didn’t mind being hunted by his gaze. In fact, I really liked that I had all his attention. I was nervous in a good way, anticipation flooding my veins and making me almost giddy with excitement.

That was screwed up. I shouldn’t be reacting to him this way. Or, at all.

I’d been a good boy and avoided texting Axel these past two days. Even though my fingers itched like mad to do just that. And I kept my distance in the locker room, not knowing what to expect. Or, how to act. How he’d react. My usual cocky confidence was sitting on the sidelines, and it made me restless.

Was Axel as fucked up over that kiss as I was?

I’d said nothing to Dane or Kayden or any of my friends about what really happened in that attic. They’d all heard about the joke and assumed that Axel and I had finally come to a truce. How could I tell them that I hadn’t been faking when I didn’t even believe it myself? The whole incident at the frat house was like a hazy, fevered sex dream. It had to be. Axel was straight. He hated my guts. Anything that happened between us should be dismissed due to alcohol, experimentation, and a prank gone too far.

Yes, that’s all it was. Forget about it.

That’s exactly what I intended to do. And did.

We have a game to win and that comes first.

That was the last thought I had before the puck dropped in front of me.

I was conditioned to react decisively. Hockey was a skill and an instinct. You couldn’t have one without the other. There was no time to second-guess yourself because things moved fast.

Unfortunately, not fast enough.

I didn’t win the face-off. But it didn't put me off my stride. If anything, the sting of loss had me fighting back hard, delving into the fray with Langston’s best forwards, Joliet and Kourinko. Joliet was all power and finesse, a total natural who made every shot on goal look easy. Kourinko, on the other hand, was big and bold, and he didn’t hold back when it came to fighting for possession. They were the reason Langston was number one in the college rankings last year. But not anymore. We had an aggressive offense, more shots on goal, and a defensive lineup that was getting better with every game.

Kourinko took control of the puck, but I was all over him, and Dane launched into the fray with me. We battled it out, and when I finally wrenched the puck out from Kourinko’s control, I didn’t waste time hauling ass down the ice. My best effort wasn’t good enough, though. I neared the net, but was suddenly blocked by Delacourt, one of Langston’s d-men. I managed to sneak around him, and his teammate, Whitman, and spotted my opening.

I took the shot, fast, but the goalie was faster. Fuck.

I skated around their net and slammed my stick on the ice in frustration. Until Dane met me on the other side and gave me a cautioning look. Losing my cool wasn’t playing smart. The fact that I was already hyped up and we’d just started wasn’t good.

Neither side scored during the first period.

It was twenty minutes of pure frustration. Back and forth, but with no headway on either side. Tension grew thick and heavy when, near the end of the period, Kourinko cross-checked Silas into the boards. They nearly came to blows, until Dane intervened.

During the second period, Axel and I had our chance to play on the same line.

His size alone was intimidating, but it was his knack for finding the openings that made him a star. Less than a minute after the ref blew the whistle, Axel managed to grab ahold of the puck and when he was about to get crushed by Whitman, he shot it to me in a pass that I could only describe as beautiful. Even I could admit the asshole had talent.

Too bad the same couldn’t be said for me in that moment because my shot sucked.

No goal.

When intermission was called, we took our break, rehydrated, and regrouped. Coach Banning didn’t hold back when it came to his analysis of the game so far.

“Rowland, Lund, nice plays, but I want you to see them through,” Banning explained. “Remember what we talked about in practice. No stalling near the net. Hesitation kills momentum.”

I wanted to argue and tell him that I was busting my ass, but I was cocky, not dumb. And Coach had a point. Something was off with me. I was so intent on the team winning that I wasn’t focused enough on my own plays.

“The same goes for all of you. It’s a tough game but we’ve got this, let’s see it through,” Banning looked around and locked eyes with Silas. “And a reminder, don’t let guys like Kourinko goad you into a stupid fight. The last thing we need is Langston on a power play. Understood?”

Silas bit his lower lip and nodded, glaring back at our coach.

“I didn’t hear you?” Banning added with a raised eyebrow as he looked around the room.

“Yes, Coach!” everyone called out.

Coach finally smiled. “Good. Now go get your spot in the semi-final.”

Fucking right. Langston was going to play their last game of the season. We’d knock them off their pedestal and then some.

I headed into the third period with renewed fire in my veins. Every play was fast, hard, and brutal. Fighting for the puck, fighting for an opening. Thankfully, no actual fighting. I finally got my chance with ten minutes remaining, after another incredible pass from Axel. I took my shot, and watched it whiz through the goalie’s knees. It hit the net so fast it boomeranged and bounced out just as quick. But I didn’t miss it and neither did the crowd. The roar of student cheers bombarded my ears.

The buzzer sounded and I glided around the net, then raced back to center ice to celebrate with my teammates.

And the first player to pull me in for a hug? It was the last person I expected.

Axel

The rush of witnessing that goal, even if it wasn’t mine, was heady.

So was the guy who scored it. The sheer joy in Jace’s smile, the way it lit up his entire face, I couldn’t look away. And I surprised myself by grabbing ahold of him and hugging tightly, both of us panting hard, sweat soaked, and exhilarated by that play.

Was I frustrated that I had another assist and not a goal? Yeah, of course it bothered me. But the fact that we were up by one, against my former teammates, was still sweet. And watching that goal? It was a highlight I’ll never forget.

I never really clicked with the guys at Langston. Probably my own fault. I never wanted to be there in the first place. Because I knew that I hadn't earned that spot. People there respected me, but it was because of my family history with the school, not because of how I played. But things were different here. Due, in no small part, to playing with Jace. Maybe Coach had the right idea.

It appeared that I’d been wrong about Jace, like I was about so many things.

If I was wrong about Jace, then I was wrong about Preston. I had to talk to him, and soon. Even if it hurt. Even if it meant letting go of someone I thought was my friend. I couldn’t stand to be lied to.

Still, a part of me told me to hold back. Be cautious. Just because Jace was getting to me, didn’t mean I had to give in. To him, or these crazy feelings he was inspiring. Feelings that offered nothing but confusion and more questions.

When it came to hockey, I thrived in the offensive mindset.

When it came to everything else in my life, I tended to lean into my defensive instinct.

But I didn’t know what stance to take when it came to this unexpected play going on between me and Jace.

The game ended with that one goal. When the final buzzer rang out, everyone on the team crashed into each other to celebrate, me included. Most surprising of all, Maddox. I’d never seen our goalie smile like that before and I wasn’t sure if it was good or kind of scary. Maybe a bit of both. The crowd was wild, and the music got louder, with Julian, Ethan, and Sean busting out dance moves on the ice, making everyone laugh. Dane encouraged us all to wave to the fans while our opponents looked on at us in disbelief. Winning any game was a high, but at this point in the season, it was surreal.

The celebration continued in the locker room, with guys spraying each other with bottles of water and electrolyte drinks. The place was a soggy, sticky mess, our stalls included, but no one cared.

We showered, changed, and gathered in the lounge for our post game scrum.

The lounge was small, not enough seats for the entire team, and since I was one of the last ones in, I stood beside Silas at the back. Jace and Dane were side by side, their heads together, talking in that way that close friends did. A pang of jealousy hit me, but I shoved it away. These weird feelings I had every time I looked at Jace had to get gone.

By the time we all got settled down, waiting for Coach, the post game euphoria had calmed a bit, and the reality that we were one step closer to the national championship settled in.

“Sorry for the delay, guys,” Banning offered as he entered the room and moved to stand at the front. “I was just on the phone with the college president, who by the way, extends her congratulations to all of you on this win?—”

Everyone started clapping but Coach motioned for silence.

“—I’m not done yet,” Coach chuckled and glanced around the room. “I want to take this moment to officially announce that Dane St. Pierre is your permanent captain. Dane stepped into this role in September and has proved, far beyond my expectations, that he deserves that title.”

Everyone cheered and clapped.

“And, as you know, I’ve also been considering the candidate for the center position for months. Every forward on this team is outstanding, so my decision wasn’t made easily or lightly. But I’m happy to announce that Jace Rowland has earned the spot. Let’s give Dane and Jace our full support.”

What?

My elation evaporated as blood pounded in my ears, until my heartbeat was all I could hear. Shock didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. I was furious—at Jace, at myself, at Coach. I heard my teammates clapping and calling out, but I couldn’t move.

“Settle down, I’m still not finished,” Coach continued with a wry smile that made me want to punch something.

The wall behind me would be a good start.

Instead of giving in to that urge, to the rage, I crossed my arms and lowered my head, not wanting to look at anyone. Humiliation had my cheeks running hot. No matter where I went, or what I did, I was never good enough. I don’t know why I thought that things were starting to go my way.

If anything, Coach’s announcement confirmed what I knew but didn’t want to face.

“While I know that titles have their place, this is still a team sport. We don’t win as individuals. We’re only as strong as each other,” Banning insisted and something in his tone made me finally look up again. His gaze was imploring but my brain refused to hear him out. “There’s no second best in this room. We win together or not at all.”

Coach’s comment sparked an unwanted memory.

You’re the first born but you’ll always be second best.

It turned out, my mother was right.

I was a good player, but not a great one. The spot I’d been working towards, dreamed about, obsessed over, it wasn’t mine to take. It was Jace’s. I could accept it and move on or fight against it and let the chips—or, in this instance, pucks—fall where they may.

Steeling my resolve, I looked around the room and locked eyes with Jace.

Fight it is.