Chapter 26
I CROSS-CHECKED a left winger who looks like that asshat who was talking to Sloane earlier, and now I’m sitting in the sin bin. Every player on the ice is in my fucking way. I’m plowing right through them, throwing up elbows, delivering hits, and skating hard. Well, harder than I’ve been.
I’m grinding my teeth against my mouth guard watching the power play and listening to the devil on my shoulder who is adamant that the guy she was talking to is the same asshole who was sitting behind me last night. I wanted to throttle him when he was shooting off his mouth about laying claim to Sloane. No fucking way. My song, my Birdie.
I fly out of the box with just enough time left in the third to try to make something happen. We’re tied 2-2 with Max and A throwing up points against the freshman phenom goalie who’s ranked the best in the country. I don’t give a shit how good he is, I’m coming for him. I fucking dare him to get in my goddamn way.
Every single guy out on the ice might as well have a douchey scarf with embroidered Greek letters hanging around his neck. None of them are safe. I haven’t played with this much hostility since the tournament. I’m not usually this aggressive. I focus more on finesse and finding the back of the net.
Tonight is different though, I feel re-energized and ready… ready to take my life back. And win this damn game.
I push off on my skates and fly around the ice. I’m determined as fuck to make up for lost time. And, holy shit have I wasted so much of it. Time with her. Time out here. Minutes I’ll never get back. Moments that’ll never breathe. Memories that could’ve been.
My body burns with regret and a painful roar rips out of me when I snap the puck toward the net. That goalie never stood a goddamn chance. As soon as I knew that it was a sure thing, I turned to where B was sitting to check if Sloane had magically appeared. That if I wished hard enough my dream girl would be here. She wasn’t. And that’s on me too.
“I might just kiss the motherfucker who pissed you off tonight,” Monroe happily shouts, and bear hugs me to celebrate my game-winning goal.
“Fuck that, give me your goddamn head,” Jake pulls my helmet toward him and kisses the top of my covered skull. “You fucking came back to us, man, I knew you would!”
“Fuck yeah!” Max screams in my face, knocking my helmet with his, and asks me the same question he did during the tourney game. “That for her?”
“They’re all for her, man.” And they are.
“Missed your ass out here,” A says while pulling me into a hug. “Glad your back, C.”
We skate off the ice and Coach pulls me into a handshake hug that feels real good to have earned.
“Keep this up, and I’m not just talking about whatever lit a fire under your ass tonight. Stick with the therapy, Wilton, you looked like you again and it was damn good to see,” he tells me and claps my back. “You been running?” he asks and I nod my head yes. There’s no use in hiding any of this anymore.
“Therapy will teach you other ways to cope. You can turn this all around, son, I know you can.” He’s made it crystal clear he believes in me and I don’t want to let him down. I’m all in.
I walk into chaos, the locker room wild after our win and the boys shout my name while I walk toward my cubby. I pull my gear off and feel damn proud of myself for doing my part tonight.
“You after my job or something?” Monroe jests while throwing his arm around my head and pulling me into him when I take a seat, “I thought I was the enforcer around here.”
“Your job’s safe and sound, I was just letting off some steam,” I assure him and pull out the game sheet on tonight”s opposing team. Number one goalie in the country my ass.
“Gimme your game sheet, I need it for something,” I nudge him and he fishes it out of his cubby before handing it to me. He yanks it back right before I can snatch it outta his fingers.
“Whatcha doing, sunshine?” He asks with a curious smirk on his face.
“Don’t worry about it, give it to me,” I tell him holding my hand out.
“Tell me first,” he waves the crisp piece of paper in my face. Goddamnit, I fucking need it. I roll my eyes at him and he laughs. Idiot.
“I wanna make something with it, now come on man, give me the damn thing,” I plead. He finally relents and places the sheet of paper onto my palm only to fucking yank it back at the last second.
“Make what?”
“You’re a real bastard, you know that? Now give it to me,” I reach for it and he dangles it out of reach.
“Come on, sunshine,” he taunts.
“Fine, If you must fucking know–.” I start to say with a huff when he starts laughing in my frowning face.
“Oh, I absolutely must fucking know,” he chuckles before clearing his throat. “Okay, I’m done. Continue.” I glare at him before starting again.
“I’m gonna make Sloane some paper cranes. One for each goal from tonight,” I tell him and start folding the first one.
“You know how to fold origami? And do cranes?” He asks, sounding surprised.
“I can do a few things that’s all. Now give me the fucking paper,” I hold out my hand and this time he doesn’t hesitate to drop it.
“Look at you being all romantic and shit, giving her little gifts,” he punches me in the arm with a cheesy grin on his face while he starts to undress. “What happened last night? You two talk?” He asks and I shake my head no.
“She turned me away… twice,” I tell him and run my hand through my hair. I pull the strands as tight as I can, feeling the rough strain on my scalp.
“Fuck, what’d she say?” He asks, changing his tone from playful and curious to serious and concerned.
“She told me herself to leave the first time and then wouldn’t open the door for anyone at the girls’ apartment.” Her rejection is like a goddamn reality check.
I’ve clearly had blinders on and haven’t been entirely aware of my surroundings and how I’ve been treating Sloane. She told me to leave and I don’t fucking blame her. I’d want me to leave too. I’ve been so angry at myself for so many things and going after her isn’t going to be added to the list.
“What’s your plan?” To get my girl.
“I’m not giving up,” I tell him and fold the crane’s wings. I know she wasn’t there tonight. She hasn’t been to a game in fucking forever. But still, every goal is for her.
“Dam, I haven’t seen you play like that in months,” Max says and rubs a towel over his head before throwing his hat on backwards. He’s already texting my sister and grinning like a fool at his phone. I don’t wanna know.
“I felt good out there. It felt like I was flying,” I tell him while holding up the finished bird. I pull a pen outta my hoodie pocket and write the date and the time of the goal on the crane”s wings. For as loud as it gets in here, my boys are all ears and dialed into what I’m saying.
“You seemed angry as hell when you knocked number three on his ass,” Jake comments, still in his full gear. “That hit looked personal.”
“Yes and no, he looks like the same guy from last night,” I tell them and twist around to gently put the first bird on my cubby shelf.
“What guy?” Jake asks.
“He was sitting right behind me, said some shit about staking his claim after she sang. Then I saw him talking to her this afternoon.” I leave out the part about me jogging around campus after therapy and looking for her like a lost puppy.
I make a fist and fuck up the piece of paper I was going to use to make the second crane. Monroe reaches into Jake’s cubby on the other side of him and pulls out another game sheet and silently hands it over. Good man.
“What does that mean ”staking his claim”? He thinks she was singing to him?” Jake asks while unlacing his skates.
A takes his seat on the other side of me, a nasty bruise already setting in over his ribs from a hit he took. I’m about to answer Jake when A chucks his phone across the damn room. No yelling. No growls or grunts or groans. Just checks his phone and hurls it like a fucking fastball.
“What the fuck?” I turn to my brother who is restraining himself with everything he has. He’s got a thick vein popping out of his neck and by the way it’s pulsing up to his pissed-off face, I wouldn’t be surprised if pure venom was running through his bloodstream.
“What the fuck happened,” Max asks and stuffs his phone in his hoodie pocket. I wouldn’t put it past A to chuck that one too. B would be pisssseeddddd.
“She fucking transferred me to another tutor. Who the fuck does she think she is to just fucking cut me like that.” His voice is hoarse and loud as hell. I was right, there is pure venom running through his veins, and her name is Edison. That tiny girl is buried deep inside my brother and she just cut him from the inside out.
“What do you mean? I thought you said that there was no other availability or something?” I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember something about him not being able to get off her roster.
“You hate tutoring anyway. I told you I got you, bro,” Monroe offers and holds out his fist for A to bump. He doesn’t. He’s too busy staring at her message on his splintered screen.
“You know this isn’t about tutoring right? It’s about the tutor,” Jake adds, shaking his head at him.
“Yeah, Dad, I know. I was trying to help, fuck you very much,” he scoffs back, and towel whips Jake right over his left pec.
“Motherfucker, that stings! I should make your ass walk home.” He flips Monroe off and turns to head to the showers. I’m anxious to get the hell outta here and he’s our ride. I restart my folding. I want to get this second crane done.
“Those tits sensitive?” Monroe yells out while laughing like a hyena.
A rolls his shoulders back and rearranges his hat on his head, flipping it backward and running his hands over his thighs.
“Fuck it and fuck her. What are we doing tonight?” He asks and I already know what’s about to happen. He’s gonna drown himself in girls and when he comes up for air he’ll text his guy about an opening. He’ll go get tattooed and then act as if nothing happened even though he’s bleeding out all over the fucking place.
This gets Monroe yelling out to the rest of our team, “How we celebrating tonight boys?”
“With your hot-as-fuck sister,” Max says with a fucking devil grin. Fucker. I nearly ruin the half-finished crane when my fingers curl around the paper edges.
We give Max matching glares and the fucker just wiggles his dumb eyebrows at us.
I finish my crane and write my second goal time on the wing along with the date. I grab them both and tuck them safely in my pocket.
Monroe starts running around the locker room towel-whipping everyone trying to figure out plans for later. It doesn’t matter what any of them are doing, I’ve got plans of my own. With her.