4. Oliver
The stadium is so empty the shoosh-shoosh of my skates on the ice almost echoes.
Practices are closed to the press, so there are no rumors to debunk or ignore. The team won’t be here for another twenty minutes, so I don’t have to manage anyone’s mood but my own. Liza is tied up in meetings, so there’s no camera in my face to “let the fans see the real me”, as she says. There are no sisters that I have to referee, and my parents haven’t seen me play since I was old enough to drive myself to practice. All I have to worry about is staying upright and not running into the walls.
Everything is easier when it’s just me and the ice.
Too soon, the clash of several skates sliding out onto the ice disturbs my peace.
“McKenna,” Alexei barks, “Where’s the rest of your gear?”
I grin. “Figured I’d play left wing today, Cap, since you said I’m never right.”
A few of the guys laugh.
Alexei glares at me, but there’s not as much ice in it as usual.
“Go put your pads on,” he orders.
“But it’s not that time of the month, Cap,” I protest.
His mouth twitches. For Alexei, that’s practically an ear-to-ear grin.
“Go, or you’ll be doing speed drills while the rest of us have a scrimmage,” he says, waving me off.
Definitely less brusque than usual. Did he take a painkiller for his back or something?
I retrieve my gear from where I stashed it on the bench and throw it on along with my mesh jersey. I lost the coin toss, so my half of the team got stuck with the bleach splotched ones (that was the last time we used that laundry service). I give Alexei a jerk of the head to let him know I’m ready.
He gives a long blast on the whistle around his neck, and the team separates into four bunches—blue mesh offense, blue mesh defense, bleach splotched red offense, and bleach splotched red defense.
Alexei and I meet in the middle of the rink.
“Listen up,” he shouts. “Coach is at his daughter’s school awards ceremony, so it’s just us today. That’s no excuse to slack off, men. We practice how we play, and how do we play?”
“We play hard!” the team responds as a unit.
“You’ve been divided based on footage from the last three games. Our goal for this scrimmage is to shore up our weak areas before the game this Friday. Oliver” —he gestures to me— “will go over the defensive plays for each team. I’ll be handling the offensive plays. Every opportunity we get, we run them. All the drills this week were leading up to this. This is our last chance to work on this before we face the Blizzards, so let’s make it count.”
At his nod, I break off and head to the blue defense while he heads to the red offense.
“This is the last bit of help you’re getting from me,” I say when we huddle up. “After this, red is mopping the floor with you.”
They humor me with some half-hearted grumbles.
“You will be running forechecking every chance you get. Work together, slow down the offense’s charge. Figgis, work on trusting that peripheral vision. Every time you turn your whole head, you’re giving someone a chance to blow by you on the other side. Nelson, your left foot gives you away. You always point it where you’re going to go, and if we noticed, so have the other teams. Watch out for that. Questions?”
When no one speaks up, I skate over to my defense and huddle them up.
“Our weak spot is a zoned defense. Game footage shows you all swapping zones like kindergartners swap viruses. Not today. Stick to your zones,” I say.
I assign each player their zone and give them an opportunity to ask questions. Again, there aren’t any.
I whistle the pre-agreed tone to let Alexei know we’re ready. Instead of blowing his whistle, he skates over.
“Problems?” he asks.
“No.”
“Why did you whistle, then?” Alexei demands.
I raise my brows. “That was my ready signal. We talked about this last night.”
“Right. Very good.” He nods then skates away.
Yeah, something is definitely going on with him.
I don’t dwell on it for long. My team has a scrimmage to win.
Arguably, the goal is the best place to be on the rink. I can see just about everything from there. I watch as they zoom back and forth across the ice, hear the muffled thumps as people get checked and the crack of a stick hitting the puck. I haven’t had much to do yet. The drills this week have really paid off. My guys are nailing the zone defense.
Farther up the ice, Ian is giving Alexei a run for his money. This has to be the third time he’s stolen the puck from him. While Ian is doing his best peacock impression as he zooms around the ring, Alexei seems unruffled.
Even though Alexei’s half of the team won, it was by the skin of their teeth. He’d made more mistakes than usual. By the time we got home, I was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things.
While Alexei’s at the door paying for the pizza, Ian flicks an ice cube at me across the table to get my attention.
“He’s been weird all day,” Ian says. “You noticed, didn’t you?”
“I’d have to have been playing with my eyes closed to miss it,” I reply. “Do you know what his deal is?”
“He hasn’t said anything to me. You don’t think his back is worse than he let on, do you?” Ian asks while rubbing his shoulder.
“He looked fine,” I say.
“I knew how to make myself look fine, too.” Ian worries, rubbing harder at his shoulder.
I wonder if he even realizes he’s doing it.
We’re interrupted by Alexei shuffling into the kitchen and dumping the pizza box on the table. He says nothing about the ice cube slowly melting on the hardwood table or the fact that neither Ian nor I are using coasters. I’m not sure he even notices it with how absorbed he is in his phone.
Ian and I shoot concerned looks at each other across the table.
Then one little noise changes everything.
Alexei’s phone chimes… and he smiles.
There is an actual smile on his face.
I meet Ian’s eyes then pointedly look at Alexei’s wrist and back up to him. He nods, understanding me perfectly.
His hands shoot out and pin Alexei’s wrist to the table. I lean over and snatch the phone from his hand. He tries to get it back, but Ian was too quick for him so all he can do is scowl at me from his seat.
Emily. That name seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
I scroll through the message chain.
Emily - Saturday is good, but I can’t get a sitter until 8. Does that still work?
Alexei - Yes, that works. Is there a reason you neglected to provide your address?
Emily - Yes ;)
Alexei - Well?
Emily - Your getting my address depends entirely on how well you do at your next appointment, and don’t even think about half-assing it. I’ll be watching you closely.
Alexei - Does that mean what I think it means?
Emily - Show up and find out.
I let out a low whistle.
“You’ve been holding out on us.”
“It’s none of your business. Give me the phone,” he hisses.
“Not a chance in hell,” I tell him. “Any woman who can boss you around like that is worth our attention.”
I hold the phone out so Ian can read it. Based on his expression, he’s as interested as I am.
“We need to look her up,” Ian insists.
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“The hell you will,” Alexei thunders.
He wrenches out of Ian’s grip and snatches the phone back.
“Oh, no,” I say sarcastically, “how will I ever look her up now? If only I had my own pocket-sized computer to find this woman. Wait, I do.”
Ian and I huddle together over my phone as we search for Emily.
“What hospital did he go to for PT?” I ask.
“Grace Harbor,” Ian says.
“Thanks,” I say, throwing my hand out to hold Alexei at bay.
“There she is.” Ian jabs his finger at the screen.
I tap on her photo to make it larger. That same flicker of recognition bounces through my brain.
“I think I know her,” I mutter.
Ian scoffs. “There’s no way.”
“No,” I protest. “She looks really familiar.”
“Because she’s exactly your type. Amber eyes, long, dark eyelashes, a splash of freckles, dark, wavy hair. If there’s a woman who looks like that within a ten-block radius of you, you’re going to find her. I swear it’s like you can smell them. If it weren’t for Alexei and me, that’s all you’d ever date.”
“Speaking of which, do you think she might be interested in some additional guests for her dinner date?” I ask Alexei.
“You guys don’t have to be a part of every aspect of my life, you know,” Alexei says dryly.
I laugh. “When it’s a woman who looks like that, we do.”
Ian nods in agreement.
Alexei rubs his temples and sighs, “Do you not remember the Rachel Mayeski disaster?”
“Two words,” I reply. “Colleen Jackson.”
“It got to be too much for her after a while, though,” Ian counters.
I pretend to be offended. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Hers,” he answers simply.
“I’ve never seen you two this intense about someone you haven’t even met,” Alexei says thoughtfully. “Still, there is something about her…”
He sighs, and I know I’ve won.
Alexei catches my grin and scowls. “We can see how it goes, but for fuck’s sake, don’t overwhelm her, and the second she shows any discomfort?—”
“Drop it. I know.” But to keep from being too serious, I ask, “So, is that a yes to dinner for four?”
I dodge the halfhearted punch he throws my way and laugh.