Chapter 18
18
RHYS
I skate backward as Tuck barrels toward me, swiveling the puck in front of him. As I get close to the empty net behind me, I slow down, letting Tuck’s speed close the distance between us.
My brow is knit, eyes narrow and tense with concentration. I have to keep my attention on the puck, Tuck’s stick, and his body movements to anticipate any sudden dekes or fake outs.
Suddenly, Tuck swivels his hips like he’s going to break to my left—but his skates don’t turn the way they should if he were committing to the move.
Instead of buying it, I take advantage of the split-second he’s off-kilter to surge forward, bodychecking him shoulder to chest and forcing him to lose control of the puck. I snag it and pivot to my right, skating past him with the puck and winning the drill.
I scoop the puck onto the blade of my stick and bounce it in the air as I turn back to Tuck with a satisfied smirk. “You thought a rookie fake deke like that was gonna fool me?”
Tuck’s smile is tight with competitiveness. “We’ll see who looks like a rookie on this next drill, Callahan.” He taps his stick against the ice, signaling for me to pass. “Puck me.”
I roll my eyes as I slide it across the ice. “Do you have to say it like that?”
“We both know that I do.”
We go hard on this drill for about twenty minutes, getting the better of each other at turns.
On the other side of the ice, Lane’s coaching Jamie on some of the finer points of playing defense in behind the net situations. Lane isn’t cleared to take an active role in practice yet, but he can at least put on his skates and watch from a distance as Jamie teams up with Jackson, one of our third-line defensemen, to take on Carter and Sebastian.
Tuck and I are taking a break, leaning on the dasher boards as we shoot the shit, when my gaze latches onto something that pulls my attention away while Tuck’s mid-sentence.
Summer, Olivia, and Maddie just walked in through the stands to watch the practice. And they’re all wearing jerseys.
Of course, Summer is wearing Hudson’s jersey, and Olivia is wearing Tuck’s. But at the moment my eyes fall on them, Maddie’s angled in a way that I don’t immediately see a name or a number. I just see that she’s wearing a Brumehill Black Bears jersey.
Unbidden, the idea that she’s wearing my jersey blossoms in my head, and it makes my heart leap against my chest.
I know she isn’t. She never has. She wears her brother’s jersey. Obviously.
Fuck, though, just the thought of her in my jersey. My number on her chest. My last name on her back. My breath hitches in my throat as I picture it.
It’s a dangerous picture, because I like it way, way too fucking much.
Then she turns. Sure enough, the name embroidered on the back is Larsen.
I knew it would be, but still, after seeing reality compared to the image in my mind, I can’t stop my chest from sinking in stupid disappointment.
“Something in the stands got your attention?” Tuck’s question brings me back to reality, and I don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice. I sure don’t miss the way his brow wiggles or the smarmy smirk on his lips when I slice my gaze back to him.
My jaw tightens.
Shit, does he … know? Does he notice the way I look at Maddie sometimes? Do other people? The nape of my neck prickles with tension.
“Don’t know what you mean,” I grit out. I push off the side of the rink and skate to the puck by the net. “Come on, let’s get back to it.”
I studiously keep my gaze away from where the girls are now sitting in the stands. I don’t glance up. Even though my brain is buzzing wondering if Maddie’s ever sparing me any glances.
I wipe off Tuck’s smile real quick when I get the better of him on the first drill. We go at it for about ten minutes, both of our competitive natures coming out as we battle over the puck and deal out bodychecks to each other that have both of us taking turns falling ass-first onto the ice.
Tuck isn’t above playing mind games when he’s in the zone.
“Noticed you haven’t looked up at the girls in the stands for a while,” he comments, a sly, insinuating tone in his voice as he’s skating in slow, measured arcs just outside the reach of my stick.
My teeth grind together. “Why would I?” I keep my eyes on the puck.
His shoulder pads tilt with a shrug. “Just thought maybe you’d know who that guy up there is.”
My muscles go rigid. “What guy?”
The words come out with more urgency than I’d intended.
“That guy who’s been sitting next to Maddie and talking with her for like ten minutes now. He must be funny. She’s laughing like I’ve never seen her laugh before.”
Immediately, my brow darkens, my fists tighten around my stick, and a bitter taste fills my mouth. I couldn’t stop my eyes from whipping in Maddie’s direction even if I summoned every ounce of self-restraint I have.
And when I do … no one else is there. Just the three girls sitting together, chatting and watching the practice.
By the time I pull my eyes from them, Tuck’s already deked past me, and he’s sending the puck sailing into the open net.
Annoyance swirls through me as Tuck skates past, laughing. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
What secret? That’s what I should say. But who would I be fooling?
Not Tuck. And sure as hell not myself.