Page 58

Fifty-Eight

RHODES

Coach Jacobs stands at the foot of the locker room, and silence fills the tight space. With the entire team in here, it gets congested, and adding in each of our egos, it’s even worse.

“Listen up.”

Kane mumbles about it being silent, so clearly we’re all listening.

I send him a glare, and he lazily swings his attention back to Coach.

“We’re going to be making some changes with the playoffs in our future. We’re slotted for the wild card right now, but if we can get our points up for the next few games, we’ll be able to secure a spot for the first time in ten years.”

The locker room erupts in chants, and some throw up the new fan salute: their first finger and pinky up like devil horns. Some chick did it at one of the games, and it went viral. Now everyone is doing it.

“Alright, alright, alright.” Coach sounds eerily similar to Matthew McConaughey.

“The franchise has hired a skills coach to help tighten the line and work out the rest of our kinks.”

A murmur works through the locker room, and Coach continues.

“And we’ve added a few more players to our roster. It could change before the trade deadline, but I need you all to be aware of your new teammates and coach.”

This is nothing new. There are trades all throughout the season with injuries, unfit players, and more, yet Coach Jacobs always gives us a heads up.

Some of us, like myself, have even more of an advantage of knowing privy information. Like promised, I reached out to those that I knew playing in Washington, and their facts all remained the same:

Nicholas Tarvo knows his shit.

Nicholas Tarvo is skilled.

Nicholas Tarvo put our offense to the next level.

The only negative thing I was told was that he had some personal issues he needed to work through, which is what has propelled his decision to move closer to the Mid-west, and that he had a temper. But who in hockey doesn’t?

The locker room door opens, and two guys shuffle through, decked out in full Blue Devils attire. Emory catches my eye from across the room.

“This is Lars Perrson?—”

And Crew Hart, I finish in my head.

Hart is a hot commodity. It's no wonder Emory and I had to share a room the other day. Crew Hart is where our funds went. He’s not the youngest player in the NHL, but he’s one of the best of his age.

Emory walks right over to Crew after Coach introduces our new teammates. If I have my facts straight, they went to Bexley U together.

Coach Jacobs claps his hands. “Now that we’re through with introductions, get dressed. Your families are here to watch you practice, and it’s the only time it’s allowed, so go.”

The team breaks, and he pulls the two new guys over to talk. The rest of us shuffle out of the locker room and head for the ice to work on last minute drills for our game tonight with our families getting an early glimpse.

Practices are usually closed off, even to family, except for today.

Family Day, where our loved ones are allowed to watch us, is always the practice before a rival game. Either Coach knows we need the extra support on days like today, or he wants to remind us that we can’t get too ahead of ourselves with the fighting.

The second my skate touches the ice, I glance to the stands.

I relax when I see two blue ribbons and smiling faces behind the glass. Ellie throws up her horns, and I slip my glove off to do it back to her. Sunny scrunches her nose when Ellie grabs her hand and forms the horns, making her hold it up.

My cheek lifts. When Sunny stops laughing, she swings her gaze over to me.

I haven’t even begun skating, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

I left her alone last night, making sure she got much-needed rest in her own bed. I knew if I had her stay in my room again, Ellie would ask questions. Not to mention, I can’t keep my eyes to myself, let alone my hands.

The thoughts are just as bad.

The dirty ones and the ones that are picturing her as something more than a nanny.

Ice flings up beside me, and I pull my gaze from Sunny.

It’s the new guy, Perrson.

“Hey, man.” He taps me on the shoulder with his stick, and I instantly want to snap it.

Who does he think he is?

I slant my head, deciding whether or not to give him a little leeway since he’s new.

“I’m Lars.” He speaks with a Swedish accent.

“Volkova.” I skate forward, and he follows me.

Does he want a friend? If so, he’s coming to the wrong guy.

I won’t haze him or anything, but I’m also not going to befriend him three seconds after he joins our team.

“I know who you are,” he says.

Crew Hart climbs onto the ice next and skates around a few laps, nodding at his new teammates with a tight smile like any normal man would do.

“So, Family Day?”

I grunt and play around with a puck, trying to loosen up.

Go away.

Not that he knew he interrupted my thoughts of Sunny, but he did, and now I’m irritated.

“Who do you have watching you today?”

I send a puck toward Emory.

He smirks at Lars following me around like a lost puppy.

“My daughter,” I answer curtly.

“Oh, nice. You married, then?”

A puck comes in my direction, but he steps forward to take it.

I come to a sudden halt and shoot him a who-the-fuck-do-you-think - you-are look. “If you know my name, then you probably know I’m not married.”

He nonchalantly shrugs.

Is this another Kane-like situation? A young punk who is talented enough to be pulled up from the minors but needs some help maturing? Surely Coach didn’t think this would put us in the playoffs?

“Your life is pretty private, actually. I did some research on the best players, and you’re the only one that is a mystery.”

I squint. “Yeah, there is a reason for that. I want it to stay private.”

Glancing around, I look to see if any of my teammates are watching this interaction.

Kane is leaning against the wall in front of our bench, staring right at me with a shit-eating smile on his face.

I shift over to Malaki, who is standing entirely too close to the penalty box. When he sees me looking, he opens the door and wafts his hand in front of it. What is this?

If Lars doesn’t skate the fuck away from me, I might just end up in there.

Thankfully, he takes off skating down the line, leaving me alone.

I head toward Kane.

“Wipe that look off your face, or I’ll give him your address, and you’ll have yourself a new friend.”

Kane snorts. “You don’t know my address.”

I chuckle.

He eyes me closely.

Of course I have his address. The entire team does, because he continuously gets too wasted to drive home.

I steal the puck from him and slide it over to Malaki, who is shaking his head at Kane behind me.

I peer over my shoulder.

Kane looks guilty.

“What did you do?”

Malaki slides me the puck, and I send it to Kane with a little more force.

“Welcoming our new teammate with an innocent prank.” He shrugs. “The usual.”

If I didn’t have some sunshine running through my veins from a certain someone, I’d probably be irrationally annoyed with Kane and his constant bullshit . But it doesn’t hit me as strongly as usual.

“Well, don’t include me in this. Unlike you, I’ll be focusing on tonight’s game.”

I bend at the knees to stretch.

“Too late,” Malaki mumbles.

As soon as his words hit my ears, I look for Sunny and Ellie.

My stick falls to the ice.

I flick my glare to Kane.

“What?” He acts innocent but makes no attempt to hide his smirk.

“Did you tell the new guy to go over there? Or did he do that all on his own?”

Am I going to have to make a scene?

Kane’s cheeks cave in as he tries to hold in his laughter.

Irritation fuels me to stand at my full height. I drag my glare back and forth between Kane and Lars, trying to decide which one to go toward.

“There’s one thing you don’t do when it comes to me.” My voice is entirely too calm for the jealous rage zipping through me.

“I know.” Kane rolls his eyes. “Stop fucking with you. But relax. It’s just a joke. Everyone knows that Sunny is off-limits, and she has no problem telling us that she doesn’t date hockey players, remember?”

I shake my head with the flex of my jaw. I skate over to him and lower my voice. “No. The one thing you don’t do is fuck with what’s mine.”

Kane eyes me with confusion but quickly smooths his features when the realization hits him.

I narrow my gaze. “You get what I’m saying?”

He smiles like a fool next. “I got you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good,” I snap.

He begins skating toward Lars. “And my bad. I honestly never would’ve guessed that you’d be fucking your little nanny at your disposal.”

I quickly swipe my stick off the ice and put it out to trip him.

He goes flying.

“Damnit, Volkova! I said I was sorry. Take a fucking joke.”

A sick smile paints my face as I bend to help him up. If the families weren’t watching, I’d probably place my stick against his neck, but since I have to play nice, I decide to act even more insane and help him to his feet.

It probably sends more fear into him than if I were to use my fist on his face.

“I know you said sorry.” I grab his stick off the ice and hand it to him with force. I press it into his chest. “But I need you to understand that I’m not just fucking her like she’s a goddamn toy. Show some fucking respect.”

Kane flicks a brow.

“Don’t say that shit again.”

“Wow.” He glances at her over his shoulder. “You really care about her.”

I do, but I’m not going to admit that to him before I do her.

“I’ll take care of Lars,” he says.

I turn away and grip my own stick a little tighter than before. I catch Sunny’s eye, and she’s watching me closely.

It calms me enough to send her a wink. Her cheeks ripen with color, which is something I find highly captivating.

Staring at her from across the ice and making it known to at least one person—even if it’s only Kane—that she and I are something more than what we portray has me reeling.

I’m being reckless, but at least I’m no longer in denial.

What started as something temporary is turning into something that I want to make permanent.