Page 13 of Slap Shot (Blades Hockey #5)

Weston

Iˇm starting to think that Joe Morley has best friends on every fucking team in the league.

Limping my way toward the visitorˇs dressing room after our game against Colorado, Kasey comes up beside me. In his goalie gear, he takes up twice as much space and accidentally knocks his elbow into mine when he leans close, his voice lowering to a worried murmur. ¨You good, bud?〃

¨Never been better.〃 Itˇs a lie. My hip is hurting like a motherfucker and Iˇm going to have a bruise the size of Texas tomorrow on my thigh. How we pulled out a win is beyond me; Colorado played with a roughness that said tonightˇs game was personal.

As if reading my mind, Kasey says, ¨Victor Nilsson is a dick.〃

¨Joe Morley is a dick,〃 I mutter grimly, ¨everyone else is just jumping on the bandwagon.〃

It started out innocently enough. A push here, a shove there, before becoming increasingly more pointedand this time, I wasnˇt the only one catching the heat. Nilsson pinned Bjorn to the boards in the second period, somehow managing to jab the rookie in the soft, fleshy part of his throat with his stick. While Bjorn gasped for air, Nilsson played it cool, gloved hands lifted above his head in the universal sign for it wasnˇt me . He got sent to the sin bin for high sticking, and we scored twice on the power play, but still, the damage was done.

Tonight, weˇre the walking wounded, and Iˇm not just talking about our physical injuries. Morale is low as we start getting undressed.

Dragging my duffel bag close, I riffle through it for my phone. I have three missed texts: one from my dad that I ignore, another from Daisy that Iˇll check in a second, and the last from Tory. I open up my twinˇs first and crack a smile at the meme he sent of Daffy Duck with the tagline, ¨Youˇre despicable.〃 Only, heˇs replaced Daffyˇs face with Victor Nilssonˇs ugly mug.

I type out a quick reply:

Me: Your Photoshop skills are terrifying.

Within seconds, a new text from him pops up. This time, itˇs a picture of The Big, Bad Wolf from the movie Shrek decked out in the pink dress of Little Red Riding Hoodˇs grandmother. My face is overlayed on top of the Wolfˇs, and Tory has added the line, ¨Iˇll Blow Your House Down, Motherfucker.〃

Laughter fights its way up my throat. It feels good after the night Iˇve had.

Tory: Iˇve been saving this one for a while. Enjoy

Me: You are grossly unpaid working for Dad.

Tory: At least Iˇm paid. Imagine if I had to live with them still.

Me: Donˇt worry, big bro. You can always be my assistant.

Tory: *shivers in horror*

Tory: No thanks

Me: Hey, Iˇd be a great boss.

Tory: No doubt

Tory: said no one ever

Me: Asshole.

Tory: You love me

Tory: By the way, youˇre welcome for keeping your little secret

Me: Technically, youˇre in on the secret if you plan to be at the wedding. Which you will be since youˇre our witness.

Tory: Mom and Dad are finally getting hitched. Iˇd never miss it

With a chuckle, I exit out of the thread. Heˇs been calling me and Daisy that since college. Iˇm not even sure what prompted him to start, but itˇs been ¨Mom and Dad〃 this and ¨Mom and Dad〃 that for years now. Thankfully, Daisy doesnˇt seem to mind, and Iˇve certainly never cared one way or another.

I open her message next and feel my lips tug upward in a soft, affectionate grin.

Daisy: Be safe please

Daisy: Iˇm not trying to roll you into the courthouse next week .

My thumbs are flying over the keyboard to reply before I can even properly formulate my thoughts.

Me: A little worse for wear but still walking on two legs so

Me: ::ring emoji:: ::wedding chapel emoji::

Me: You canˇt get out of marrying me that easily.

Daisy: Lucky for you, Iˇve already accepted my fate

Me: Oh, good.

Me: Iˇd hate to have to drag you to the altar.

Daisy: this isnˇt a dark romance, Cain.

Me: Are there different levels of Hallmark? Like, fluffy ones with very kind, very respectable best friends? And others with bondage and kink?

Daisy: Hallmark would never.

Daisy: And stop trying to pretend that youˇre respectable

She follows that up with a zoomed in screenshot of my comment about dragging her to the altar, and I bark out a laugh loud enough to attract the attention of my teammates. Playfully, Beaumont points a finger in my direction. ¨Finish up, Cain. The rookies need us, and weˇre taking them out.〃

We end up at a hole-in-the-wall bar about a mile away from the airport hotel where weˇre staying. The floors are sticky, the lights are wonky, and Bjorn is slow dancing all by lonesome near the jukebox.

¨Should we rescue him?〃 Hunt asks.

¨Nah.〃 Beaumont cracks the cap on his water bottle. ¨Let him be. Heˇs not hurting anyone.〃

I pick at the label on my beer. Iˇve barely taken a sip, but the repetitive motion keeps my hands busy, which soothes the restless part of my soul.

If you asked me ten years ago whether Iˇd be content playing babysitter to the youngsters on the team, I would have laughed in your face. Corralling Connie and Felix always felt emotionally draining, and even during my first few seasons with the Blades, I never let my guard down on nights like these. It was exhausting, always trying to be what other people wanted. There was the constant pressure to fit in; to say or do the right thing so my new teammates didnˇt think that I was completely awkward; to work up the interest to casually flirt with someone even though all I wanted was to go back to the hotel and give Daisy a call.

The harder I tried to be like everyone else, the worse I felt.

More pre-game rituals. Fewer nights of good rest. Anxiety was a thread that wound around me like a noose, growing tighter and tighter until I thought that Iˇd die from overexposure. And always in the back of my mind was the reminder that my parents were just biding their time, waiting for my dream to crumble down around me.

Iˇm not really sure when it shifted. Maybe around the time of my surgery when I realized that my teammates only cared about getting me healthy again.

I havenˇt managed to kick my pre-game rituals to the curband, anyway, theyˇre a hockey thing and Iˇm nothing if not a hockey playerand anxiety is still my constant companion when a situation feels particularly out of control, but otherwise . . . I feel good in my skin. Relaxed. Like I can sit here with the boys, holding a beer that I donˇt have any plans to drink, and not care if I get any sideways looks.

Although, to be fair, the only one getting side-eyed right now is Bjorn.

¨We really should stop him,〃 Hunt says as we watch the rookie drunkenly back his ass up against a very unwilling bystanderthe jukebox. ¨But I also canˇt look away.〃

¨Itˇs a trainwreck,〃 I agree.

¨Alarik is filming it,〃 Beaumont says, pointing his water bottle toward the other Anders brother, ¨and I should put a stop to it because you know heˇs going to lord it over Bjornˇs head for the next month, but also . . .〃 He lifts one shoulder. ¨Their sibling rivalry is not my problem.〃

¨It will be if Bjorn murders Alarik.〃

Our captain tilts his toward me with a wry grin. ¨Can you imagine the headlines? One Cup under our belt and suddenly weˇre cursed.〃

Because I know heˇs only fucking with me, I donˇt take the jab personally. ¨I donˇt know, imagine what theyˇll say when me and Daisy announce that weˇre married.〃

Hunt turns a curious glance my way. ¨So, you two are definitely going through with it?〃

I raise a brow. ¨Gwen didnˇt tell you? Sheˇs got us booked for three interviews the moment we let her know that weˇve tied the knot.〃

¨Aw, does that mean weˇre not invited to the wedding?〃 He presses a hand to his heart. ¨Iˇm fucking crushed, man. I thought we meant something to you.〃

I toss a crumpled napkin at his head. ¨Fucker,〃 I mutter, laughing. ¨Besides, weˇre thinking that weˇll hit up The Box in our finest that night, let everyone know that thereˇs a round on us for anyone wanting to say congratulations.〃

¨Romantic,〃 Beaumont teases, and I know what heˇs thinkingthat an unofficial reception at the private bar that the Blades have made our own is anything but romantic.

I donˇt know how to tell him that I want to give Daisy the world. Iˇd book us a stay at some fancy hotel in the city or a wooden lodge buried deep in the heart of Maine, if thatˇs what she prefers. We can sleep in separate rooms and never kiss again, and Iˇll

Iˇll be the happiest man alive.

Happy because Iˇd get to call her mine, and something about thatsomething about knowing that weˇre bound to each other by lawscratches an itch inside my brain that I didnˇt even know existed.

For years, Iˇve thought that having Daisy as my friend is all Iˇve ever wanted, but marrying her? I want it. I want it so fucking badly, and I have no idea what to do with that revelation, so I tuck it back inside that hidden corner of my heart that I rarely let people see because it makes me feel weird and vulnerable, as if Iˇm always two steps out of sync with everyone around me. Itˇs easier to brush it off and give Beaumont shit than it is to uncomfortably peel back the layers of my own confusion.

¨Itˇs not a real marriage, man.〃 The words hang heavy in the air. Shaking off the wrongness of them, I press onward. ¨And anyway, after what happened tonight with Nilsson, something has to change.〃

Beaumont frowns. ¨And you think that getting hitched to Daisy will fix everything?〃

¨Fix Morley and others like him?〃 I shake my head. ¨No shot. The way Nilsson went after Bjorn was fucking uncalled for.〃

¨He knew what he was doing,〃 Hunt says, his blue eyes troubled. ¨It feels over the top, though, doesnˇt it? I get that Daisy pissed people off, but itˇs been almost two weeks since the story broke, and it hasnˇt died down at all.〃

¨Gwen thinks that the wedding announcement will quiet the fans down. Well, at least divert their attention to something else.〃 With the edge of my fingernail, I pick at the peeling label a little more. ¨And if the fans arenˇt egging on guys like Morley, hopefully everything else will calm down, too.〃

Beaumont meets my gaze across the table. ¨And if it doesnˇt work?〃

¨Then we fight our way to another Cup the old-fashioned way.〃

With our fists.