Chapter 29 Talbot #2
He takes that famous shot that you think couldn’t possibly make it to the net but then does. The puck sails into the corner of the net.
“Goal!” Granny Keagan’s megaphone screeches.
Misty and Mason jump around Ryan, cheering and slapping him on the helmet.
“We can’t keep letting them score.” Mike Tiernan calls us into a huddle. “This is embarrassing.”
“They stacked the team!”
“Austen, you’re a fucking active NHL player. You need to get your head in the game, son,” Sienna’s dad chastises him.
Misty’s ex glowers.
We head to the centerline.
“Talbot,” Sienna’s dad barks. “Take the face-off.”
“What?” Austen’s furious. He can barely play.
“He almost kept up with Misty, and he got the puck away from Mason,” one of Misty’s younger brothers adds then cringes when Austen gives him a threatening look.
“I play center.” Austen glares at me.
“Don’t argue with me, son. He’s on face-off so he can get us the puck. You’re the captain; you’re supposed to know basic strategy.”
Ryan West winks at me when we both lean over for the face-off. “Just give up now. Misty and Sienna played for the women’s national team.”
“Dammit.”
Granny Keagan drops the puck.
I lose the face-off to a man almost twice my age.
Sienna’s dad rushes his best friend and former captain, but Ryan West dances on his skates, passing it to himself then sweeping a pass to his oldest son, right to his tape.
I fall back to defend, but Austen cuts in front of me, ice spraying, checks Mason, and grabs the puck.
Jaxon is too small to push Austen off, and Misty’s ex goes tearing across the ice.
“Pass it to me!” I scream, skating with him.
Misty and Jaxon block him on the way to the net.
I don’t know why one of them isn’t covering me. Until I realize… Austen has no intention of passing it, even though any junior player knows that this is the time to pass.
“Is Austen seriously shooting it?” Granny Keagan asks, derisive.
On the sidelines, the less-good players have given up and are eating the snacks Misty cooked.
“He’s going to cost his team another win. Send his ass down to the minors.”
Austen tries to pass it to himself, but Misty’s ready and undercuts him, grabbing the puck and controlling it, swinging around to pass it up the ice.
“Austen is getting paid how much to play in the NHL?” a drunken spectator slurs.
“Too much. He just lost the puck to Misty.”
Austen slams right into Misty, sending her flying.
She immediately bounces back up on her skates.
I’ve seen Austen hit like that at Harbor Hawks games. He’s sent people off the ice on a stretcher with that hit.
“I’m good,” Misty calls.
Austen’s supposed to be on my team, but all I want to do is punch him in his fucking smug face. He shoots on Sienna, but she blocks it. The puck bounces off her glove.
I fight Misty for it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Austen barreling toward us. I spin us—not fast enough, though, for my back to completely take the hit, and his shoulder clips her head.
“Watch it, asshole,” I snarl at him, shoving him hard.
He stumbles.
“Shove a puck up his pucker!” Granny Keagan hollers.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The crowd, egged on by Misty’s granny, chants.
“Break it up, boys.” Ryan skates to a stop in front of us. “Misty’s good, right?” he says, voice modulated, trying to defuse the situation.
He doesn’t realize—I’m not angry. I am extremely calm.
“I’m fine.” Misty sounds a little breathless.
“Of course you are! It’s too bad she wasn’t a boy,” Ryan jokes. “She’s so good she could have been the greatest defenseman in the NHL.”
“If she wants to play hockey with the men, she has to take a hit like one and not rely on her boy toy,” Austen sneers.
“She played for the US national team. She can take a hit.” Ryan pets her helmet.
“It wasn’t a paid position.” Austen’s lip curls. “She was just pretending to be someone important. Everyone was just humoring her little fantasies.”
Misty looks suddenly sad—no, it’s sorrow.
It trips something in me, something dangerous, something I usually try to keep on a tight leash. “What the fuck did you say?”
Austen’s not my teammate anymore—he’s a target.
Misty’s ex circles, unsteady on his skates, his hands up. As if I’m going to fight like those idiots in the NHL, grabbing each other’s collars, blindly swinging at each other while they spin in a circle.
His right foot’s off balance. I could hook a leg, take him to the ice, knock his helmet off, bash his skull in. He’s dead in three seconds tops.
Or… my knife is on my back. I could slit his throat in less than one second.
Blood on the ice? Sounds festive.
My hand twitches.
“Talbot!” Misty sounds hysterical.
“He has a knife!” someone screams.
“…an animal,” Pamela complains from the sidelines to her relatives. “That girl brought an animal here. He’s after Austen.”
“Misty, do something,” her mother screeches at her.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that…” Ryan trails off. He probably expects me to say something, monologue, cuss him out, threaten Austen.
I don’t do threats.
I joke threats.
But if I’ve got you in my sights, then you’re dead. You just don’t know it yet.
Austen’s an idiot and doesn’t comprehend the danger he’s in. “Your boyfriend’s too scared to fight me.” He raps his stick at Misty’s skate, trying to knock her onto the ice.
Guess we’re taking option D: all of the above.
Austen lands on the ice with a whoosh as all the air leaves his lungs. He struggles on his back for a second until he feels the cold steel at his throat.
Ryan and Mike curse.
“Talbot, don’t.” Misty pulls at my jersey. “Don’t kill him. I’m ordering you not to kill him.” Her tone is sharp.
I dig the blade into Austen’s skin. He gurgles.
“Talbot, please,” Misty begs.
Austen’s eyes are blown wide in terror.
Perfect.
If this were a movie, I’d snarl in Austen’s face, tell him, Don’t you dare touch my girlfriend. Instead, I haul back and slam the handle of my knife into his nose, then I kick him in the gut for good measure.
Austen groans, hand to his face, blood leaking out of his glove as Ryan tries to help him up.
Ryan sounds shaken. “Talbot, let’s—”
“Finish the game?” I turn the charm back on, smile on my face. “Hell yeah, I love hockey! Man, it’s so cool to play with all you NHLers. Kid me is so jealous right now.” I toss the puck up on my stick and catch it. “Granny Keagan, the puck drop, if you please.”
Ryan and Sienna’s dad are clearly a little spooked.
Mason picks up on his father’s nervous energy and chews on his mouth guard anxiously.
Misty rocks on her skates.
I twirl around, kiss her, then grin at Sienna’s dad. “So, who do you want on face-off?”
“Uh, well…” he stammers.
Misty’s little brothers cower behind Ryan.
Austen slowly skates over to the stands. Brielle helps him off the ice.
Lucy rubs her gloves together gleefully as she skates over to sub out for Austen.
“This is the type of hockey I want to see. Blood and gore!” Granny Keagan announces. “You need to sign Talbot up for the NHL. Give the people what they want!”
The Elfs lose.
Austen refuses to play, and Sienna’s dad and I just can’t keep up with Ryan and his sons. His older sons. I got stuck with the younger West kids.
“Lucy, how did you miss that shot?” Caleb cries as Lucy slides across the ice.
“She poke checked me,” Lucy replies.
Misty and Sienna cheer.
“You’re not even gonna let a child score?” I yell at them. “For shame!”
Sienna says, “I don’t let people score on me.”
Lucy sticks her tongue out at Sienna.
“Damn right. We play to win!” Misty is in her element out here on the ice. I’ve never loved her more.
I mean, not love loved. I don’t love people like that. Just, like, love the way you love the hamburger at Red’s or love your favorite bar. That kind of love. You know, the normal kind.
“Great job, kiddo.” Ryan claps Misty on the back.
“What about me?”
“Mason, you get paid to do this.” Lucy throws her stick at him.
“Not that much.”
“You need to do some more face-off drills,” Misty tells him before Ryan can speak.
“She’s not wrong,” Mike says dryly.
“Loser cleans up,” Misty jokes, skating around me as I head over to the coolers.
“Man, that was a crazy fight, did you see that?” Granny Keagan is telling the rest of Ryan’s family.
“You’re a scary motherfucker.” One of Ryan’s uncles hands me an ice-cold beer.
“The fact that you kept up with them is impressive in and of itself,” another of Ryan’s cousins adds.
“This is why I gave up on hockey,” his brother jokes. “Ryan makes you look like you don’t know how to skate.”
“Misty’s making me look like I don’t know anything. I’m going to have to start training with her on the regular.” I run my fingers through her damp hair.
“Austen’s the one who needs to start training with her.” One of Ryan’s aunts cackles.
“You need to teach that boy how to fight.” Her husband shakes my hand.
“That’s that military training and your tax dollars at work.” More of Ryan’s family crowds around us.
“Your new boyfriend is a lot nicer than your other one, Misty.”
“You better get a gun, and make sure Brielle doesn’t steal that one, Misty.”
“My granddaughter is not a homewrecker!” GrandPam shrieks at her brother.
The old man is very drunk and very confused. “My apologies. Wasn’t that her at your wedding, Misty?”
“It was a mistake, a miscommunication.” GrandPam tries to silence her brother.
“She’s rewriting history,” his sister tells him, loudly, because the cold is interfering with her hearing aid. “It’s just like when Ronald left her for that waitress and took all the money.”
“It was a waiter. A man!” a great-aunt hollers. “Get your story straight. All sorts of misinformation out here.”
“You’re all just jealous of my son!” GrandPam yells at her relatives.
“The prize for the winner.” Granny Keagan hands Misty a bottle of whiskey. “You get an honorable mention.” She slaps me on the ass. “He had to play a man down.”
“I’m sure Misty paid you off to stack the teams.” I laugh as I head to the locker rooms.
Ryan gives me pointers on my game as I change out of my gear. I commit the whole conversation to memory so that I can lord it over my brothers the next time I see them.
There’s a fine dusting of snow on my truck in the parking lot. I breathe in the smell of winter.
I love playing hockey.
For a second, I think about how nice it would be to be on a beer-league team. I’m sure I could convince Misty to play with me. Too bad I have to travel so much. I can’t do commitments, of any kind.
Misty climbs into the truck next to me, big grin on her face.
For another second, I wonder what it would be like to do this every winter with her—hockey season, hanging out with family, actually going home to a real home at night.
She blinks at me. “What?”
“You look so happy.” I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.
“How can you not be happy after playing hockey? Also…”
I grunt in surprise as she pushes me back into the seat.
“I’m really fucking horny.”
“Well, shit, Gumdrop.”