Page 8

CHAPTER 8

JACE

THE FOLLOWING WEEK

I was going to be late for practice. Shit.

Get up and leave.

I’d sat frozen on my bathroom floor for over an hour, staring at the toilet. Fun times. My gut was churning full force, but I fought hard to let the feeling ebb and flow, to let my nerves ease in and out like a long, shuddering breath. That nagging voice in my head told me it would be so much easier to make myself vomit. Then everything would be under control. The uncertainty would be over. That’s the way it had been since my senior year in high school. Pressure had been coming at me from everywhere, from hockey, to school, to my boyfriend, Preston. Especially him.

But it was the comments that never got out of my head, stuck there like permanent post-it notes.

You’re nothing but trash.

You’ll never amount to anything .

You’re only good for a fuck .

I fought hard to push back against those thoughts. Like hockey, sometimes I won, and sometimes I lost. The only thing I could control was my response.

Just throw up, you’ll feel better.

Plenty of guys vomited before a game. It wasn’t that unusual. Only, it had gotten worse at the end of my senior year, around the time my relationship with Preston came to the breaking point. Never mind puking before the game, I was doing it before class, after every team dinner, and sometimes, in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I kept telling myself that it was fine. I had it under control. I was wiry but strong, and the less weight I had the faster I was on the ice anyway.

Until I fainted during practice. My coach pulled me aside and told me if I didn’t stop losing weight, he was going to bench me and call my aunt. She’d already been through enough and had done everything in her power to raise me right after my mom died when I was just a baby. Josie knew something was up with me, but never pushed. That wasn’t her way. I couldn’t lay my problem on her, not when I was so close to getting out of Hillington.

That day, I searched online and found a therapist and used the tips I earned working at Josie’s garage to pay for it. After a month, I confided in her about what really happened. My urges to binge and purge were less frequent. And, feeling stronger, I finally had the courage to put a stop to the toxic relationship that had me questioning every idea in my head and every word that came out of my mouth.

A sudden knock at my bathroom door jolted me back to the present.

“Jace, hurry the fuck up!”

Dane? What was he doing here?

I slowly stood up, washed my hands, and reached for the handle, yanking it open.

“Can’t a guy take a shit without being interrupted?” I snarked as I stared at my friend.

Dane sniffed the air. “You shit pretty clean.”

“Fuck off,” I quipped and stepped out of the bathroom. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m making sure my friend gets his ass to practice so Coach doesn’t give us all extra workout time this week.”

“Gee, thanks.” I walked over and grabbed my puffer coat, my backpack, and a beanie. “Now tell me the real reason you’re here.”

“Two reasons. One, Coach made me permanent captain today—” he started.

“Holy fuck! Congrats!”

I reached over and hugged Dane.

“Thanks. Formal announcement coming soon. And second,” Dane continued as he pulled back, his smile wide. “I want to make sure my two best forwards aren’t gonna get into a fist fight today and get thrown off the team for good.”

I shook my head, fidgeting with my keys as we headed out of my room.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “It’s all under control.”

I think. I was in control, but I had no idea about Axel.

“I trust you,” Dane replied as we headed for the stairs. “I still don’t know Axel that well, though, so he’s kind of a wild card. But I’m pretty sure he won’t do anything to fuck this up.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to stay to watch our practice?”

“Nope, I’ve got a date with Jackson,” Dane offered a dirty grin, and I shoved his shoulder.

“You’re so gaga over him.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

I had a momentary pang of envy, but it passed like one of Axel’s assists; fast. I couldn’t fathom a relationship. Not now, not ever. Why would I want to go through that shit again? I’d rather wear a funky jock for a year.

“Please think of me while I’m out there sweating my balls off and you and your boyfriend are—” I paused, smirking at my friend. “Wait, I guess you’ll be sweating your balls off too.”

I snorted and Dane chuckled as we stepped out of the dorm and into the bitter cold.

“Come on, you know that Coach is doing the right thing. If you and Axel don’t click soon, the team’s not going to improve.”

“We’re never going to click,” I hissed, my breath releasing like a plume of smoke. “He’s besties with my ex. And because of that, I can’t even look at him, never mind have a civil conversation.”

“You don’t need to like the guy to work with him. On the ice, it’s not personal,” Dane countered. “Remember, he’s just another player.”

“You don’t get it,” I sighed. “My ex, Preston, he…fuck, you know what happened. And I can’t talk about this now.”

I walked faster, needing to move.

“I hate to say it but at some point, you have to open up,” Dane insisted. “Not just to your friends but to Axel. Tell him the truth.”

“I don’t know if I can. And chances are, Axel won’t believe me,” I admitted quietly, then stopped short. “Preston messed with my head, and I don’t want to go back there, to fuck up my concentration. Not now. There’s too much at stake.”

Dane didn’t push any further but instead, patted my back.

“Let me know if I can help, however I can help. I’m here. Jackson too.”

“Thanks.”

We then walked silently to the rink and surprisingly, Dane followed me inside.

“I’m okay now, Daddy. I swear I’ll be fine on my own and I will not cause trouble,” I announced sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.

Dane messed up my hair and I shoved his shoulder. Everything was back to normal.

“Fine.” He walked backwards down the hallway and pointed a finger at me. “Have a great practice. Be good.”

“Go on, get out of here!” I teased. “Go have sex with your hot boyfriend.”

“Rowland!”

Shit. I turned around to find Coach Banning staring me down.

“Get on the ice, you’re already late!”

“Yes, sir,” I replied automatically.

I shuffled off to the locker room but before I entered, I glanced over my shoulder to find Dane standing at the end of the hallway, giving me an evil grin and mouthing ‘burn’. I gave him my best finger in return and then hauled ass to get changed.

When I snuck out of the locker room all kitted up (in record time, I might add), I ambled down the chute to find Axel practicing with Coach. Great. Ax was already busy kissing ass.

“Add another fifteen minutes to your time tonight,” Coach announced, glancing at me and then at Axel. “Both of you.”

Axel glanced over at me and his glare was frostier than this rink. Fuck me.

“Do your usual warm-up for fifteen and then we’re working on advanced drills,” Coach stated.

I did my stretches and then took off down the ice.

We did laps around the rink, Axel skated on one side and me on the other. Around and back the other way, until I felt my muscles loosen up. I glanced over and noticed Coach had set up five sets of pylons and sticks, three in a row near the blue line, and then another two sets leading up to the net.

“Alright,” Coach yelled out. “Quick hands, 360 drill. I’m timing. Rowland, you’re up first. Lund, notice how he handles the puck, any patterns—good and bad—and how he approaches the net. Rowland, the same goes for you when it’s Lund’s turn. We’re doing ten rounds. After that, you’re working on passing drills. Let’s go.”

For some reason, I was suddenly self-conscious like I never was on the ice. Probably because I’d never practiced one on one with Axel before. Then I looked up and realized Axel’s eyes were burning a hole in my jersey. If he thought that was going to make me flub in front of him, he could think again.

With a quick flick of my stick I nabbed the puck and took off, skating between the pylons, flipping the puck back and forth, then around and over to the net, taking my shot. I turned around and faced Axel, giving him my best smirk. He leaned on his stick and stared at me like I was a strange specimen in a lab. Fuck him.

“Was that beautiful or what?” I gloated as I held my arms out.

Coach shook his head, but Axel’s hard expression never wavered, his mouth set in a grim line.

He was going to get lockjaw at this rate.

“You’re dragging your left foot,” Axel stated.

“The fuck you say?” I snapped.

“Hey!” Coach interrupted.

I bit my lower lip. “Sorry, Coach.”

“He’s got a point,” Banning replied with a raised eyebrow. “You tend to lean into your right. Do it again.”

Turning around, I headed for the pylons and repeated the drill. This time, instead of being distracted by my dickhead teammate, I focused on my footwork. After I slid the puck into the net, I swiveled around, and spotted Coach’s approving stare.

“Better,” he said. “Did you notice how much faster you were that time?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but Coach—and Axel—was right. I nodded.

“Sometimes we get complacent because skating is second nature to us. Don’t make that mistake.”

Then it was Axel’s turn. The last thing I wanted to do was study him, but then again, if I wanted that center spot, I needed to know everything about him. Keep your enemies close and all that.

When it came to hockey, that is.

Despite his bulkier frame, Axel moved with an agility that was undeniable. But it was his stickhandling that caught my attention (no, not that kind). And this was why he was so great at making assists; his reaction time was lightning quick. If he wasn’t such an ass, I’d be tempted to admire him.

He made to take his shot on goal, but there was a moment of hesitation before the blade of his stick connected with the puck. Interesting. Was this just a one-off?

“Take the shot over!” I called out when the puck hit the net. “And don’t choke this time.”

“Rowland,” Coach warned.

I should’ve watched my words. Instead, I skated over to Axel and got up in his face. If I was going to push my luck, at least Coach was around to referee.

“Why did you hesitate to take the freaking shot?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” Axel returned, pointing to the net. “Clearly.”

“I saw it,” I insisted. “You had momentum and then you didn’t. The puck barely made it in.”

Okay, I was exaggerating but I had to make my point. It was a valid one.

“Fuck you,” he muttered low under his breath.

“You wish,” I hissed, my adrenaline spiking.

Axel stepped closer, sweat trickling down the sharp angles of his face. His sneer had my temper running so hot I was sure I was going to combust on the spot. Instead of fueling the fire, I skated back to stand beside Coach and Axel started the drill over again.

The same thing happened when he approached the net.

Why was he stalling out? It was weird. And so was my interest in why he was doing it.

“Do it again,” Banning demanded.

Axel let out a loud growl of frustration but with each turn, he got better. But not as good as he needed to be. I was about to take my turn when Coach’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and a worried expression crossed his face.

“I’ve got to take this. Start on your circle passing drills.”

Banning glided off the ice. Axel and I were alone for the first time. No coach, teammates, or game to buffer us. He stared at me like I was shit under his shoe and I gave it right back.

“I don’t need your fucking advice,” Axel spat out.

“Suit yourself,” I bit back. “You keep assisting and I’ll keep scoring.”

Did I push things too far?

I got my answer when Axel dropped his stick and gloves and came at me.