Chapter 7
Mickey
1 month later
J anuary is the cruelest month, I swear. That’s why I’m fucking glad to leave it in the rearview mirror, and it’s not a moment too soon. For a month, it’s felt like a ghost town in my head, one where Simone is starring as the miserable spectacle; clanging chains and crying boo in the darkest recesses of my mind. For thirty-one days, she’s been everywhere. In the frost on the windowpane, the steam rising off my morning coffee; her shrill laugh echoing in my blades cutting the ice.
I’ve never been able to shake her, and it’s driving me crazy. The only time I’ve felt the sweet release of not thinking about her, has been at Cupid’s Court. But now it’s finally a new month, and my brain finally feels fresh.
Adi-fucking-os, Simone.
Smirking to myself, I lace up my skates, feeling almost giddy now that the bitch isn’t haunting me anymore. I slide onto the rink, welcoming the chill biting at my skin.
“Welcome back, Missile,” Soren grins, slapping me on my shoulder.
I still live with him since my house isn’t done yet. Apparently, everything is slower than the contractors had promised. Something with the weather, materials, and maybe they missed the sacrificial goat. I don’t know and don’t care all that much either. They’ll be done when they’re done, and being at Soren’s isn’t half bad.
“Fuck off,” I chuckle, flipping him off.
I notice Sawyer and some of my other teammates looking at me like they’re waiting for me to lose my shit. Not that I blame them, that’s pretty much been the case for the last month. So I flip them off as well, for good measure and what not.
“He’s back,” Sawyer laughs, giving me a thumbs up that I return with two middle fingers this time.
Obviously, I’m amazing at this finger communication if I do say so myself.
During our practice, Coach barks orders, shouting himself hoarse. It’s nothing new, it’s just how the old man is. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t really smile, instead he scowls less when he’s in a good mood.
“Circle up!” Coach bellows, and we obey, gathering around him, breaths misting in the chilled air. He’s got that look in his eye—the one that means business and brooks no bullshit. “Listen up, Sabertooths! We’re through January, and you bastards have clawed your way to second in the division. That’s nothing to sneeze at, but it ain’t first place either.”
“Here we go,” Soren whispers from somewhere behind me. “The ‘second place is just the first loser’ speech.”
He isn’t wrong; that’s the way Coach always lays it out. I know it bothers some, but in my opinion they shouldn’t be here then. We’re not playing for fun, we’re playing to fucking win. So, yeah, second place really is just the first losing spot. If you aren’t gunning for number one, what are you even doing in the NHL?
“Damn right!” Sawyer calls out, and a few chuckles ripple through the team.
“The Jags are only first because they haven’t faced us yet,” I shout, feeling the conviction in my bones. “Once they come up against us, they’ll lose that precious spot.”
A cheer breaks out amongst the team, with chants about how we’re going to destroy the New Jersey Jaguars when we finally face them. I think I’m the one who roars the loudest, which is no surprise since it’s personal for me.
“Aight’, aight’, down boys,” Coach bellows. “New Jersey’s not next, so even though they’re gunning for us, we need to focus on the teams who come before them, even when we have a personal score to settle.” Coach’s gaze locks onto mine, and I nod once, sharply.
“Understood,” we echo back, a chorus of determination.
As the team disperses, I can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline. Jared Frank, once my comrade-in-arms, is now the opponent. My Moby-fucking-Dick, except, I can’t let him get away. Every time I face him, I have to be the better player.
Back when I found out he’s the one Simone cheated on me with, the one who knocked her up, I blamed him and only him. If she hadn’t chosen to be with him over me, I would have taken her back in a heartbeat. That’s how fucking young and stupid I was.
Jared, the dick that he is, has used every opportunity to rub the affair in my nose. Humiliating me publically, playing dirty on the ice, smearing my name. But it’s more than that, the need to win is in my blood, in the very air I breathe. Even if Simone was a lousy price, I still lost. Yeah, it’s fucking personal, and it’ll always be this way.
The way I see it, the teams we face before the Jags are just pawns standing in my way, preventing me from going straight for the king. But I’m ready.
Jared Frank, I’m fucking coming for you.