Page 15

FIFTEEN

jack

My temples throb as my blades slash at the ice.

The filled stands are a blur of color and sound, but I don’t waste a single second to focus on anything but the puck.

Not that it’s helping me at all, not since that last threat I received at the hotel, and another email from Coach Dalton that came right afterward.

My mind is so twisted up in the past, I can barely make a single play.

I’ve missed so many damn passes and shots, I’m shocked Enver hasn’t benched me.

So far, the third period looks a lot like the previous two and if it continues, we’re headed straight for another loss.

There’s so much tormenting my mind right now, and as if the hotel attack mob wasn’t enough, Carter decided that he’d interrupt my pregame ritual by tearing open old wounds right before we took the ice.

Telling me I make him feel things he doesn’t understand.

That nearly blew my goddamn head up.

Is he fucking kidding me?

I had to shut him up before he said shit he can’t possibly mean .

And before he gave me a flicker of hope that would eventually be snuffed out when he realized the implications of his words.

Cutting through the noise in my head, I suck in a breath, the shock of cold air chilling my insides and firing up my resolve as the play resets.

Greyson makes a clean pass to me in the offensive zone.

I line up a wrist shot and fire—and the puck hits the Iron Hawks’ goalie right in the chest, bouncing off his pads.

I slam my stick on the ice and skate around the back of the net, kicking up snow as I silently curse him.

Motherfucker.

That goal should have been mine.

I need to get my fucking head screwed on or else I’m gonna prove them right—that all this shit will actually break me.

Like I’m not broken enough already.

It seems impossible that there’s anything left to shatter.

My leg muscles ache as I try to maneuver through two defenders during the next play, but the puck gets poked away and out of my reach.

The Iron Hawks get possession again.

Anger rumbles in my gut.

I can’t look at any of my teammates, especially Carter.

I bite down hard on my mouth guard, my legs picking up speed, but the near-miss fucks with my head.

This is it. Hockey is my life, all I have left.

If I don’t have this, I have nothing.

The words loop through my mind, echoing between my ears over and over and over again.

I can feel eyes on me, tracking my every move.

The guys all throw out words of encouragement, but I can tell they’re forced.

Everyone knows what’s on the line today.

One loss you can ignore, but two in a row?

After what just happened?

Forget it .

And it’ll all be on my head.

Enver’s expression is tight and tense when we regroup for the next play.

I’m the liability right now.

They think I’m about to crack.

But fuck that.

I tighten my grip around my stick and skate back to the line.

I’ll never give anyone that power over me again.

“Larson, VK,” Enver points to us.

“I want to see some two-on-one action. Just like those drills we did. I wanna see you take control of that puck. Work together. The rest of you make sure they’re protected.”

I swallow hard and sneak a look at Carter, something I’ve tried hard to avoid since I walked away from him before the game.

He gives me a little nod and we take our positions.

We work the puck up the ice and Carter shoots it to me, but my stick clips the side of the puck instead of hitting it straight on.

Mike Hayes, one of the Iron Hawks defensemen, skates by, a cocky smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, Larson? Not used to all the boos? Is the Ice King finally melting down?”

My jaw tightens, a rush of ire flooding my body.

I skate up close to Hayes, my vision colored with a deep red haze.

Carter skates over and wedges himself between us.

“Come on, let’s get back to the game.”

He nudges me away from Hayes, who is still chuckling.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, glaring at him over my shoulder.

“Hey,” Carter says to me as he pushes me toward the line.

“Don’t let him get in your head. We’ve got this, okay? You’re not alone out here. Remember, it takes all of us. We win together .”

I shake off his hand.

Ironic that Carter’s telling me not to let Hayes get in my head since he’s the one who’s taken residence there ever since he spoke those words before the game.

Words I wanted to hear for so long, words that make me think there might be more to his actions than just a desire for friendship.

Words I just can’t trust because I’m afraid there won’t be anything behind them other than what I’ve built up in my mind.

I want so badly to believe there was intention loaded into every touch, every look.

But I know I’m just setting myself up for disappointment, just like I did years ago.

He will never be what I need.

And I can never have what I really want.

For a brief second, our gazes tangle, a rush of heat charging my insides.

My breath hitches, the intensity in his expression all-consuming, and I lose myself in the deep blue pools of his eyes, wondering, questioning.

Is it really only in my mind?

Because, Jesus, it feels so real.

Carter slaps my helmet when the buzzer sounds, jerking me from my thoughts.

“We’ve got this.”

I adjust my helmet and square my shoulders as I skate to the line.

There are only seconds left and the game is tied.

If I hadn’t shit the bed over the past few minutes, we’d be ahead, but thinking about that isn’t going to help us claw our way to victory.

This is it.

And here we fucking go.

The crowd goes wild when Carter intercepts a pass and starts a rush.

He turns slightly, sees me in position, and grins, shooting the puck in my direction without a second’s hesitation .

I take the puck and drive forward, my thighs burning, heart swelling in my chest.

When I near the net, I fake the shot, drawing out their goalie.

Then I shift to my backhand and the puck sails right past him, hitting the back of the net.

The arena erupts as the final buzzer sounds.

The guys rush me, the whole mess of us slamming into the boards, our sticks held high in victory as we yell and cheer.

Carter skates over, smiling so wide, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Nice shot, Larson.”

“Thanks.”

He hesitates for a second as the other guys make their way across the ice.

“They can never break you, Jack,” he finally says.

He’s right. They can’t.

I stare after him as he skates away.

But you can.

***

Everyone is in a great mood during the quick trip to St. Paul, Minnesota, where we’re playing our next game tomorrow night.

They all walked on eggshells before the Iron Hawks game, not knowing what to expect after that shit show at the hotel.

But I locked in and focused on the game.

Well, I was almost completely locked in after Carter cornered me.

And even though his words still linger in my mind, I’ve made the decision to bury them.

I did it once. I can do it again.

Compartmentalizing my feelings is the only way for me to survive.

I need to stick him back in his box and throw away the key; otherwise, I’ll never be free .

My muscles are sore and aching by the time we get to the next hotel.

I just want to take a long, hot shower and hit the sack.

“Jack, come meet us in the lobby bar once you drop your stuff off,” Masterson says once we get our keycards.

“You deserve a drink. Or ten. I’m buying.”

Carter stands next to him but doesn’t say anything.

And I force myself to ignore the look of longing in his penetrating eyes.

“I think I’m gonna pass. But thanks.” I rub the back of my neck and grin.

“Maybe after tomorrow night’s game, after we kick some Panther ass.”

Masterson chuckles.

“You’ve got it, buddy. I’m gonna hold you to it.”

I hoist my bag over my shoulder and head for the elevator while the rest of the guys hang back in the lobby.

The elevator dings and I step inside when I hear footsteps pound on the floor behind me.

I turn to see Carter slip into the elevator just before the doors slide closed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to chill out with the guys?” he asks.

“I know it’s been kind of a rough day.”

A dry laugh escapes my lips.

“That’s kind of an understatement,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

The elevator dings and the doors open.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Look, I’d be a buzzkill down there. I just want to be alone, okay? Go down there and relax. You deserve it.”

Without waiting for him to respond, I force a smile and turn down the hall in the direction of our room because I can’t bear to look at his deflated expression.

I mean, what did he really think he was going to accomplish by coming after me?

That a few drinks will make everything better?

That it’ll make me forget my past and the demons chasing me?

That it’ll make me forget what he almost told me before the game before I made him stop?

That the booze will make it easier for me to accept that he’ll never fall in love with me?

I think that’s probably what stings the most, if I’m being honest.

Falling for a fucking straight guy.

I mean, come on? What kind of bad karma did I dredge up in the past to deserve that?

I use my keycard to get into the room and step inside the darkness.

I kick off my shoes and drop my bag on the floor before turning on a light.

Damn. A drink does sound good right about now.

Maybe I’ll hit the mini bar after my shower.

I really could use some mind erasing, come to think of it.

Stripping off my suit, I heave a deep sigh.

I can survive a season of this.

I can lock shit up nice and tight.

I’ve done it plenty of times.

Once we get back to Oakland, maybe I’ll try to find a hot, tattooed, distraction, someone to keep my bed warm…

someone I don’t “randomly” meet in a fucking bar.

Grindr can help with that.

I just need to make a fake fucking account so whoever is watching me stays the hell away.

I pull open the clear glass door and turn on the shower.

I already took a quick shower at the arena but I’m so damn tense.

Steam rises out of the enclosure and I step under the hot spray, letting it rush over my head and aching shoulders.

I lean back against the tile wall, my eyes floating closed.

And fuck my life, it has to be Carter’s face that springs to my mind.

This time, when he corners me, I don’t cut him off .

This time, I let him finish.

“You make me feel things I don’t understand, Jack,” he murmurs, bringing a hand to the back of my head and dragging his fingertips through my hair.

“And I need to tell you that I’ve never forgotten that night. Never forgotten that kiss.” He smiles.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

With a racing pulse, I grip my hard cock, imagining that it’s Carter’s hand stroking it.

I jerk my hips, thrusting against my hand, imagining his lips on mine, his muscled chest pressed against me, the delicious friction of his dick rubbing against mine.

The bathroom door creaks and my eyes fly open, a choked gasp catching in my throat.

Carter walks into the room in nothing but his black boxer briefs, his deep set eyes searching for my face.

He doesn’t say a word, just watches me.

Through the water-splattered glass, I watch him strip off his briefs, my heart thrashing in my chest from the fantasy that seems to have miraculously come to life.

He then pulls open the door handle and steps inside, his massive cock thickening as he joins me under the hot spray.

I can’t speak. Fuck, I can barely breathe.

I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing, what he’s thinking.

But I can’t even make my mouth move because I’m too mesmerized by him.

All of him.

“I told you before that you make me feel things I don’t understand,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice making my body hum.

“And I need you to make me understand. I want you to show me.”