Page 93 of Puck My Life

With that dark reminder, Mal swans out as silently as he came in.

PRESENT

I’m sitting on the couch, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, in a cake-induced coma. Raynor is lightly running his finger up and down my spine when I see something that shocks me. I jump towards the TV, staring up at it, willing it to pan back to my alphas.

“What’s wrong?” Raynor asks.

I bite my lip, my heart is thumping, and then I see it.

“Oh.”

Raynor stands beside me, peering at the TV intently. “What is it?”

“They dressed up; their suits are pressed. Clean. Look at them. Deacon smiles politely at the camera, too, look at that.”

Raynor watches with a frown.

I go back and sit on the edge of the couch. The warm-ups start, and Mal and Deacon try. I can see them trying. They make comments, and today, for the first game ever, they go up and knock their helmets with our goalies.

“Wow!” Raynor says. “They really are trying.”

I sit there on the couch, clenching Raynor’s thigh, watching as Deacon refuses to get into punch-ups. He listens to the referee and linesmen. He is polite to the players from the Beta Bashers team. He’s respectful to the coaching staff.

It’s making my head swim.

On the ice, they throw him up against the boards, but he doesn’t react. Everything he does is to the letter of the game. He plays exceptionally well. Flies across the ice, and I see the alpha who loves this game more than breathing come to the surface. All the skills I know he possesses, he highlights them, leaving everyone watching unable to doubt why he’s a player in the Scented Scorpions team.

When he goes off, Mal comes on, and it’s the same thing. He dances across the ice, slicing it up. His stick is like an extension of his arm; when he goes flat out, no one can catch him.

He takes the puck and, instead of keeping it, passes it off to a surprised Paxton. The play goes on, and someone scores, but I’m too busy watching as Mal goes to the bench and steps off the ice out of view.

“What is going on?” Am I crying? No way.

“I think maybe they might be listening to you,” Raynor says and kisses my cheek.

I get a text and pounce on my phone, pulling it out and staring intently.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a friend. She wanted to tell me to watch the game.”

Raynor doesn’t say anything, but I stare down at Marilyn’s message and feel a tight band constrict around my chest. It’s just a simple, ‘well done, Vae,’ but it means they are noticing. I’m saving them.

The game finishes, and they win. Deacon and Mal go and join the team instead of standing apart. It’s their first win, and I am so proud of them. And they did it with skill and all the things they need to succeed in this life.

“Vae, breathe.”

But I can’t because they are shaking hands and doing it in a polite way; they are the picture of perfect players, and I want to cry because I didn’t think it would work.

Two hours later, my phone rings. I scramble for it and jolt when I realise it’s a video call. I answer it and see Deacon and Mal sitting in the hotel room. The room isn’t great, but I don’t care, I’m just so happy to see their faces.

“How are you, Vae?” Mal asks and gets up close to the camera.

“Raynor bought me cake.”

It’s all I can think of to say, all I can get out. I clear my throat and glance at Raynor as I struggle to hold back my happy tears.

“You won!”