Page 52

Crew

“Y ou ready?” Lane asked, tapping me on the shoulder.

“More than ever.”

But the truth was that I wasn’t sure if I was ready.

Because I wasn’t focused.

All I could think about was Kota and it was driving me fucking nuts. Even more nuts than when she was pretending like we never hooked up.

I couldn’t decode her. And I sure as hell couldn’t decode myself.

I’d never cuddled a girl in my life.

But as I was lying there and I peeked my eyes open, there she was, so small and so warm. The most fragile, stunning thing I’d ever seen in my life.

And I couldn’t resist.

I just wanted to touch her, to feel her soft skin pushed against mine.

As carefully as I could’ve managed, I bundled her up and held her to me. I’d never forget the tiny, peaceful breath she let out against my chest, how sweet it sounded, soothing me to sleep.

But when I awoke, she was gone, and my disappointment sank so deep into my DNA that it seemed to overpower everything else.

What the hell was happening to me?

My hockey stick was already taped and sitting on the rack in the corner, and just like every game before this one, I checked on it periodically.

With five minutes left until warmups, all the guys were running through their own pre-game rituals.

Lane popped his headphones in, listening to his late brother’s favorite song.

Cody and Matt were doing their weird handshake that everyone usually made fun of them for.

Jett already did his— all left side articles of equipment had to go on first.

And TJ was chugging coffee like the freak he was.

After warmups, Lane and Coach Palmer both gave us a pep talk, and we set out for the ice.

Tonight, we were playing Providence. They weren’t even ranked in the top ten right now, so it should’ve been an easy win, but Jett always wailed on me whenever I’d say shit like that aloud. He insisted that it was bad luck and that I’d jinx us.

But within the first seven minutes, we already had two goals— one by TJ and one by Jonah, who happened to score one of the best slapshots I’d seen all season while his line was on the ice.

After the second goal, things started to get ugly. To compensate for their shitty passes and lack of ability to shoot the puck into the goal, Providence started playing dirty.

And unfortunately for me, they had the upper hand.

Because I was distracted as fuck.

Kota was still at the forefront of my mind. At most of our other home games, she and Bridget would get here early to snag seats in the front row of the student section, right up against the glass. I had no idea where they were sitting right now, and that was the issue.

When the puck was hurdling my way, passed over by Matt, I nearly missed it. Rounding the curve behind the net and flying by Cody as I recovered and stick handled the puck, my gaze wasn’t on the one thing I was supposed to be guarding with my life. It wasn’t even in front of me. I was scanning the audience for Kota.

I was daydreaming, imagining her in my jersey again. This time, I would’ve liked it. And after the game, she would’ve been waiting for me by the front doors, smiling and glowing as I appeared before jumping into my arms.

The second I turned my head away from the glass, looking back ahead of me, I was met with a shoulder to the chest, knocking the wind out of me and sending me straight onto my back.

The high-pitched whistle blew, but I didn’t budge, lungs burning as I heaved through cold air. Lane was the first one there, kneeling beside me.

“Crew,” Lane panted. “Crew, can you hear me?”

“Y—yeah,” I mumbled back, shaking my helmet back and forth against the ice. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You don’t look good. Can you stand?”

My ears rang, and I groaned, pushing myself up. Lane’s hand clutched mine, TJ appearing on the other side and grabbing my left hand. They helped me to stand, and the arena burst with cheers when I was back on my feet. Shaking off the hit, I skated a few feet to regain my composure and grab my stick. I was surprised it hadn’t snapped in half amidst the chaos.

It wasn’t rare for me to take a nasty hit, but that one was definitely a bit more jarring than most. The good news was that I felt fine other than the ache in my back that was bound to turn into a gnarly bruise tomorrow.

The student section was chanting “See ya bitch!” on repeat as Henry Logen was escorted into the penalty box. He glared at me while Cedar U students were already surrounding him, screaming at him through the glass. His hostility was tangible; it felt like a rope he was trying to launch my way and wrap around my neck.

But instead of feeding into it, I went straight to the bench for a break. My time on the bench wasn’t used to watch the game, not really. Once again, I was inspecting the crowd, stopping on the face of every single brunette that I had the ability to see.

Since we were up already, coach let me sit out until the last three minutes of the period, throwing Keith into my place on our line. He proved himself, scoring a goal with the help of Lane.

I took three more rough hits during the remainder of the game. None were as bad as the first, but they were bad enough to get penalties called for each.

I wasn’t the only one either. Lane took a few hits, along with Jett. TJ and Matt were relatively fine, granted they were both gigantic defenseman and were never targeted so aggressively.

Overall, the game was brutal, and what sucked the most was that my earlier vision was entirely all in my head.

Kota wasn’t wearing my jersey. And she wasn’t there waiting for me after the game.