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Chapter Twenty-Three

GREYSON

“You good?” Dominik bumps my shoulder after sitting on the bench beside me.

“Yeah,” I grunt and grab my water bottle.

“I call bullshit,” he mumbles back before shouting out a response to the call that’s made on the ice. We’re halfway through the second period, the game tied with two points each that I’ve done very little to contribute to.

I glance around, taking in my teammates all waiting for their next shift on the ice or talking with the training coach. Fans beat on the glass behind me, begging for just a second of attention from any of us, but we’re all focused on the game.

Well, trying to focus on the game is more like it.

Normally, the second I hit the ice, nothing else matters.

Seeing my mom in the same room as Stella and Harper is really fucking with my head, though.

“She shouldn’t even be here,” I grumble under my breath, more to myself than Dom.

“You’re right, but you can’t control the actions of others. Good news is, she’s gone and your girls are okay.”

I nod in response, sliding down the bench to make room for those coming off the ice. There are only a few more minutes before I’ll be back out there, and I need to get my shit together.

Dominik nudges me again, forcing my attention to him. “They’re safe up there. That’s what’s important. You can’t do anything from here but trust that they’re close by. Plus, Ari seems kinda scrappy. I don’t think she’d let anything happen.”

He’s right. I know he is.

But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s not that I’m worried about something happening to either of them. The last time my mom was around Stella, I didn’t see her for nearly five years. Worrying that she could just up and leave with Harper is what has me on edge. Logic has no stake when fear takes hold.

My eyes follow the current play, and I push to my feet to get myself amped up to switch out with Cory. The kid is good on the ice, but my interactions with him are limited to watching him flirt with every woman he lays eyes on and taking over for him at the end of his shift during a game.

Eyes on the puck, I try to push my fears aside, reminding myself that Dominik is right. Stella is fine.

I follow the play into our zone, watching Dominik and Landon adjust to help defend the goal. Hot on the heels of the Nighthawks player who has the puck, I try to snatch it from him, but he passes it to his teammate who’s closer to the goal. We all shift, I watch as Landon skates forward to try to cut off the guy’s shot, only for him to pass it at the last second.

Dean dives forward and covers the puck with his glove, blocking the goal. The whistle blows to stop the play, but the player who shot the puck keeps going. My teeth clench as the idiot who tried to score barrels into Dean. They fall to the ice, and I know I’m not the only one closing in on them. I make it there first and yank the guy off Dean and shove him away while shifting to block my goalie.

The kid manages to stop himself from falling on his ass and whirls around to get in my face. He swears at me, but I stand my ground.

“Back the fuck off,” I yell back and push him away.

The guy swings at me, but I lean back and dodge it. I’m not ever the one who gets into fights. However, I was already on edge before this dipshit decided to knock down Dean.

Everyone knows you don’t touch the goalie.

Someone calls my name, and I turn to see what’s up just as my line of sight is filled with the bright orange of the other team’s jersey. My world tilts, pain reverberating through my skull, followed by the jarring sensation of my head colliding with the ice.