Chapter Thirteen #3
The speed at which my mild annoyance flared into fury was enough to feed a nuclear power plant.
But a heartbeat later, our gazes locked for the briefest of moments.
Beckett’s lower lip folded under his teeth and moved out.
His gaze was securely on my face, pleading, and I nodded curtly as if slighted but not outraged.
Whatever he was doing, I would give him a chance.
Coach signed off on Beckett’s plan and we were off.
When we returned to the game, Beckett immediately used me as a battering ram against the Icehawks’ defenses.
While Paxton and Avery taunted their flanks and Sebastian and Tyler held our lines, Beckett signaled me to go forward.
He fell back behind me as carnage took place on both sides, both our guys getting hard-checked against the boards.
At a gesture from Beckett, who focused on the puck, I headed left into the thick of the fight.
But at the last moment, as two Icehawks near me noticed Beckett’s reluctance to surrender the puck and headed for him, I figured it all out.
Swiftly enough to make Sawyer proud, I skated to Beckett’s right.
Before the window closed, his puck skidded abruptly in my direction, bounced off my stick, and I slammed the point we desperately needed.
In a dismissed, off-handed way he had spoken to me, I had expected nothing but some decorative purpose in the back.
But Beckett must have realized that was how others perceived my role from the first period.
He’d thrust me to the frontline and gave me the glory of scoring our first point.
I wouldn’t be grateful for it, as we all had the right to the limelight, but I would give him credit for being responsible enough to share it.
In the past, Beckett had risked more to achieve less.
And then, as he casually saluted me and skated off, I stood and watched his figure retreat. His big, peachy ass and the swift moves of his skates cutting over the surface of the ice left me breathless. The bulkiness he gained with the gear made me wonder what it would be like to lie beneath him.
I didn’t have too much time to ponder these things. Another round of fighting ensued. Chaos was Beckett’s friend, apparently, because we pulled off several more tricks with Avery sliding in when I was too far.
By the end of the final period, I wondered what had changed.
Had Beckett suddenly become a fairer player and a more responsible captain?
It seemed unlikely that he should transform in a single day.
Had my perception of him shifted so much that I saw more than what I had allowed myself before?
I doubted it. I had never been that narrow-minded, even if my rivalry with Beckett had fueled me all the while.
Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
Or another thing altogether. I was too busy getting slammed against the boards while my attention drifted to Beckett’s cocky grin to pursue those thoughts.
In the moment before my head smashed against the boards, I managed to twist my upper torso.
My biggest concern was not to break a collarbone and the intensity of the impact against the Icehawks’ captain told me how likely that was.
Beckett was in my view when I spun and allowed the enemy captain to pin me against the boards.
A moment before my vision darkened and blurred, I saw Beckett safely sending the puck in Paxton’s direction and then turning his head to see my fate.
His expression changed to horror, but two guys ran him over, unable to stop at such proximity.
When I got my senses back, half the crowd was cheering.
The enemy captain was getting scolded for rough play and Beckett was skidding toward me but losing balance several times.
He reached me while I still leaned against the boards.
My head was splitting and the cheers of the crowd were not helping.
Beckett got through to me in the commotion, threw off his gloves and grabbed my jersey. In one moment of confusion, I thought he was about to bodycheck me, too, but he held me against the boards so I wouldn’t slide down. “Are you alright? Jones? Look at me.”
I focused on him, although nausea rose through me like a tide. “Huh?”
“Do you think you have a concussion?” he asked. The buzzing in my ears faded and the blurry world around Beckett sharpened a little. I managed to lift my eyebrows.
“Concussion? I don’t think so. The fucker just spooked me.” A swelling group of players reached us. They were our guys, crowding around us as I tried to read something off Beckett’s lips.
“…okay? I can…” But his words were indecipherable. He released me and our guys pulled him away from me.
“What the hell is happening?” I shouted after him.
Beckett grinned. “Your smashed skull earned us a victory.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but it became clear.
Their captain had lost his focus when he had gone after me and I had been our sacrificial lamb when all their players expected me to be the secret weapon yet again.
Beckett had played with their psychology as much as he’d messed around with their strategy.
I couldn’t help but laugh from the top of my lungs.