Page 73 of Something to Prove

And I just wasn’t ready to let go.

CHAPTER 24

TY

The highly anticipatedplayoff game was off to a good start. Not great, but good. We’d been quick to the puck, strong on defense, and our passing was on point. The Bears looked like the well-oiled machine we’d worked our asses off to become this season. Unfortunately, we couldn’t fucking score. Neither could Trinity, so…we had that going for us.

But we were gassed. Totally, utterly, completely spent. Trinity was known for their speed, and we’d matched them stride for stride for two and a half periods. I’d quit wiping sweat from my brow and let it drip unchecked. I couldn’t afford to waste precious energy. My quads were on fire, and though I’d deny it all night long, the rough shove against the boards their asshole D-man had delivered two minutes ago probably bruised a rib, ’cause it hurt like a motherfucker.

I didn’t dare poke at the wound, though. The last thing I wanted was to sit this out. So I gulped water and studied the ice, hoping our opponent would reveal a weakness. If my gaze strayed to the press section and wandered the arena, well…that was just curiosity.

Where the fuck was Walker?

He’d come to most of our home games this season. Why would he miss this one? The whole damn town was here. I spotted a slew of teachers, friends and acquaintances, Shar from Bear Depot, Vincento Junior and his family, and Jett and Malcolm, sitting with a few burly dudes who were teammates of Jett’s from the Syracuse Spiders. Robin sat alone with a huge bag of popcorn next to the guy who wrote for theSmithton Times.

But no Walker.

I was pretty sure he was feeling okay. He’d been in a great mood this morning. So good that I’d purposely ignored Toby’s phone calls and text messages. Walker had quirked a brow and assured me he wouldn’t be offended if I had to speak to my agent. I’d shrugged and said it could wait. The truth was that it would only lead to some serious conversation I didn’t want to have before a big game.

And we’d talked about this game. Naked. In bed.

He’d traced the outline of my biceps while I’d admired the streaks of sunlight in his hair. Walker had a paper due, and he’d wanted to stop by his professor’s office to discuss an assigned group project. We’d commiserated about how terribly those always went and grumbled over past experiences. Then he’d asked about the game.

I’d told him I was ready. We were going to crush Trinity…no doubt about it. And afterward, I’d tell him what Toby was freaking out about. He needed to know.

But I could not be fucking thinking about that shit now. We had a game to win.

We were tied at zero in the third period with three minutes and a handful of seconds left on the clock. Brady was scrapping for the puck with Trinity’s star forward in no man’s land. I loved the guy, but he wasn’t great at judging when to dump and chase. I had to get in there.

Coach called for a line change and I bolted into action, reinvigorated and reenergized. I tapped my stick to Langley’s and skated with him to the face-off circle, bumping into that asshole D-man along the way.

“Heard you’ve got a boyfriend, Czerniak.”

I did a double take and almost laughed. Really? This was how they were going to rattle our offense?

“Oh, yeah? Are you jealous?” I taunted.

“Not my thing, man. I wouldn’t let a guy suck my dick,” he scoffed.

“Well…I don’t think you’d have any takers anyway.” I made a “too small” gesture and winked, sliding into position as the whistle blew.

Nothing like a little smack talk to get the ol’ spirits up, I mused, skating like the wind, ready for Gus’s pass. I hustled into the right lane, deking around a forward with some fancy stick handling. I could feel the shit-talker hot on my heels.

“Chicks love me. Not my problem if you can’t get a hot girl and had to switch teams.”

He’d amped up his chatter, but I just grinned.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d found the weak link.

I passed to Pritchard, then pivoted to my new best friend and inched my fingers together. I might have winked again. Sue me. The turd D-man was so easy, it was embarrassing. I called for the puck even though I was covered. Gus knew exactly what I had in mind.

“Super-duper small, huh? One-inch willy? Poor guy. You probably need a microscope to find it, huh? That’s a rough one.” The puck connected with my stick just as Trinity’s resident brain trust checked me against the boards. Hard. My already aching rib was on fire. White lights danced in my periphery and if I hadn’t been pushed to the ice, I might have fallen anyway.

But it was worth it.

A whistle blew, and he was sent to the sin bin.

We had our power play and with it, our best opportunity to put this game away. Gus faked a pass to Pritchard, slinging it to me instead. My angle was off, but with one less defender on me, I had my shot.Boom! Score!