Chapter 31
Jamal King
It’s our last home game before a few days off and then another road trip. Glancing in Theo’s direction is a mistake because his ass dimples flash and flex as he puts on his base layer shorts. I’ve been so careful, but those dimples are to die for. They curve deliciously under my tongue.
“Are we ready?” Lucky yells, and I refocus my attention on my team. He blares the music, which starts off with Burna Boy, and expects me to lead. Some of these white boys got no rhythm for dancing.
I step into the center of the room and let the music guide my body.
Benz takes my hand and twirls me around.
We do this all the time, but I catch the grimace on Theo’s face and back away.
Dancing is a huge part of our winning routine, but I can do it without making Theo jealous.
Although a thrill runs through me, clocking his possessiveness.
We’re playing a new expansion team, and the chirping starts as soon as we skate out for warm-ups. There’s something off about them that I can’t put my finger on. Chirping is normal, but they’re acting like we did ’em wrong.
Mav, Griff, and I stick together as a line during the pregame skate.
“You good, King?” Mav asks, putting his gloved hands on my shoulders. “You’re distracted.”
I nod and knock my helmet against his. “Keeping my head down and locking in,” I assure him. I’m great at mentally ignoring my opponents.
With updated rules, expansion teams are becoming better faster. This team has quality players but lacks cohesion. It shows as soon as the puck drops.
The first period only has a minute left, and my eyes are glued to Theo. His skating is an art form. He glides as if top speed is easy and cutbacks are child’s play. He’s playing for our team and not himself, and it’s incredible to watch.
Second period, Mav gets a breakaway, and Griff and I chase him from the wings. We’ve done this so many times at this point in the year that we can read each other’s minds. Griff and I swap sides by skating behind the goal, confusing the defenders. Mav takes advantage and shoots on goal.
The goalie stops the puck but can’t get a hand on it. Griff scoops it and dishes it to me, and I slide it past the goalie’s left shoulder.
The three of us meet for a quick celly hug, and their winger yells something at us. Both Griff and Mav snarl in response, but I drag them over the boards for a line switch.
“How can you ignore that?” Mav demands.
“Don’t hear none of it.” I squirt water into my mouth.
“It’s his superpower,” Griff says. “He’s unflappable.”
Those words haunt me in the third period. They’re playing well, but we’re playing better. Theo and Brant have leveled up our game.
Ace shouts to me as our lines shift. “Watch yourself. They’re getting chippy.”
He doesn’t need to warn me; I can see their aggression and cheap shots from the bench. I’m tripped from behind but get myself back into position. The game speeds up, and the refs are letting us play through the high-sticking, trips, and shoves.
I spend as much time on my ass as I do on my feet. By the time I get back to the bench, I’m winded. Theo holds up his gloved hand as we pass, and I fist-bump him with a small smile.
That should’ve been my first clue things were about to go off the rails. We don’t acknowledge each other on the ice. He skates into position, taking an aggressive stance. The puck drops, and he’s off like a shot, ramming the defender who tripped me into the boards.
They push and trip off-puck while the refs continue to turn a blind eye. I can’t hear Theo, but his mouth is constantly moving, trash-talking the defender.
My line takes our shift, so Theo and I will be on the ice together for less than a minute. A minute of pure chaos. The defender rips his gloves off and goes for Theo’s helmet, which he tosses. Theo takes a punch to the face before pushing off and getting a hit in.
The refs circle, deciding if they should step in or let them get a few more punches. I keep my distance as usual, so I don’t get dragged into the fight.
But technically, this is my fight. Theo is fighting him because I won’t. He’s sending the message not to fuck with me.
He takes another blow to the face and is tackled onto the ice. Brant wrestles one of their players who tries to hit Theo too. This could become an all-out brawl, and it’s my fault.
I’m frozen in place.
There’s blood.
Theo’s blood annihilates the ice in my veins, fueling me into action.
No one hurts my man.
He protects me, and I protect him.
The next thing I hear is Theo’s gravelly voice. “Maj, stop.” It’s the nickname that gets my attention.
My teammates hold me back as the ref tells me I have a five-minute major penalty. We’re at even strength since another of their players joined the fight. Theo argues their defender should get a misconduct penalty for instigating and should leave the game.
I’m in a daze, staring at the time on the Jumbotron. There’s only four minutes and thirty-seven seconds left, so it doesn’t matter. We’re all out for the rest of the game.
The world comes back into focus, and their defender has blood on his jersey. For the first time since I started hockey, I’m proud of fighting.
Losing sight of Theo, I panic, trying to break free to find him.
Coach declares that anyone with blood on them has to leave the bench and get treatment. Since Benz isn’t playing tonight, he picks me up with Grayson, and they drag me down the tunnel to a treatment room.
Benz sets me in a chair next to the treatment bed where Grayson’s assistant examines Theo, asking the concussion protocol questions.
“See, I’m fine,” Theo grumbles.
Grayson shines a light in my eyes, pulling my gaze from Theo. “What got into you?” he asks with concern.
It would expose us if I said I was defending my boyfriend, so I shrug. Grayson sighs and asks his assistant to leave.
“You don’t need to say anything, just listen.
If you’re trying to keep your relationship on the down-low, don’t act out of character.
” He pins me with his stare. “Your first fight in the NHL was because Keefer got knocked around. People are going to ask questions. I can keep you in here until the media leaves the locker room, but I can’t stop people from asking questions. ”
Gray grabs an ice pack and reexamines Theo. “No concussion, but we’ll take a closer look at your nose once the swelling goes down. We don’t want to mess up your pretty face.”
A low rumble takes me by surprise. Gray whirls around and points at me. “Right there. Control that. Your boyfriend’s pretty face has gotten him endorsements. You can’t go feral if someone comments on it.”
I’m frozen, and it takes all my concentration to swallow, as if I have to will each muscle to do its job. That noise came from me? I shouldn’t be surprised Ace told Grayson. But fuck.
Grayson’s head tilts back, and he takes a deep breath. “It’s hard. It’s new. I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Silence. “Fine. Stay here until someone comes to get you.” Gray exits the room, and the door snicks behind him.
Theo and I stare at each other. “There’s no chance he’s downplaying my injuries since I said I never get hurt, right?”
I stand between his legs while he sits on the table. His thumbs trace over my face, checking for swelling or bruising. I don’t remember getting hit, but I must’ve. His featherlight touch is such a departure from how he is on the ice.
“Gray’s a team player and wouldn’t risk his job for petty shit,” I assure him.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” he whispers. “I can take care of myself.”
I cup his face and press my lips to his forehead. “I know you can. But you have me now, and we have each other’s backs.”
Theo’s eyes shut, and tears spring in mine because it’s so hard for him to hear. From what I can tell, Sarah is the only person in his life he can count on. Until now.
I’m still concerned about the hate we’ll receive, but he has to know I’m behind him. “I really liked Grayson calling you my boyfriend,” I admit, and his eyelids pop open.
“You didn’t like it when he called me pretty.” Theo nuzzles my sweaty neck, and I try to push him away from my smell. “Stop, I like it,” he says, refusing to move.
“I also didn’t like seeing your blood on the ice.” I run my fingers through his damp hair.
“Is that bad?” Theo asks tentatively.
“No, not bad, but everything with you is different. More intense. I’ve never felt the need to protect anyone before.”
His arms wrap around my waist. “I like that.” Our little bubble is my favorite place, but we hear voices outside and pull away. “What do we do? Tell everyone or pretend it’s normal that you threw punches on the ice?”
“Are you ready to tell the team? Some obviously know, but we don’t have to confirm it. I’m sorry I made this harder.”
Theo straightens my jersey, which got stuck under a shoulder pad. “Don’t ever be sorry for that.” He hesitates, and I see the conflict. “I want to tell them, but maybe tomorrow. I’m so tired.”
“Of course.” I gently kiss his lips and sit back in the chair before I get us caught. It’s a big decision, and I want him to be a hundred percent sure.
Almost everyone has showered by the time Grayson’s assistant gives us the all-clear to enter the locker room. There’s tension in the air, and it’s unclear if the team is mad at us or for us.
I pretend not to notice the sideways glances as I strip out of my gear.
Sitting on the bench in my base layer, I grab clothes from my locker.
Hands land on my shoulders, and I tense up.
After over a decade in changing rooms, I’m still not used to people touching me when I’m not fully dressed.
Partly my anxiety and partly I’m not a touchy-feely person.
Mav sits close enough that our legs touch, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Everyone is worried.”
“He’s not a child. He’s an NHL player who popped his fight cherry. Leave him alone.” Theo’s fists clench.
“This doesn’t concern you, Keefer,” Mav snaps back.
“The hell it doesn’t.” A murderous look crosses Theo’s face, and it’s as if I’ve been injected with a narcotic.
He’s jealous of Mav. The high surges from my head to my toes and pools in my belly. It’s so wrong, but every part of me loves it.
“Everyone, relax,” I say calmly.
As soon as Mav goes back to his locker, I grab Theo’s arm, drag him into a private shower, and back him against the wall with my hand on his throat. “I will go out there and tell everyone we’re together. But there’s no going back. Don’t make a rash decision out of jealousy.”
Theo swallows under my palm and closes his eyes. We’re so close his breath puffs against my face. “My mom never called me back.”
“Kitten, I’m so sorry.” I’m fuming a mother could treat her child so callously. “Call her when we get to the hotel. I’m not going anywhere. We can tell them or keep it to ourselves a little longer.”
“Everyone will hate me. Blame me for turning you into a fighter like me.” He slumps against me. “I can’t drag you down and ruin you as a role model.”
“I had a convo with my moms about that.” I flex my hand on his throat, and he groans.
“Sorry,” I lie, loving the way he presses into my hand but reminding myself to keep it on lockdown.
“Anyway, from my mom’s perspective, I can’t be a role model and deprive myself of a dating life.
Walking on Pride Night isn’t the whole truth unless I’m willing to be open about my romantic relationships.
And I agree. I can’t be a cardboard cutout of a Black NHL player.
I have to be me. And when you’re ready, you can be you. ”
Theo’s green eyes are as deep and stormy as the ocean. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Too bad. You got me.” I back away. “Shower, call your mom, and we’ll decide.”
“No. We’ll tell them now.” Theo yanks me to him for a brutal kiss, then leaves the shower. I trail behind him, breathless. “I have an announcement,” Theo yells to get everyone’s attention.
“Really, that’s how it’s goin’ down?” I laugh, wondering if he plans to warn everyone off or say something sentimental. Who am I kidding? Theo isn’t sentimental.
“Then you go.” He sweeps his arm for me to enter the center of the room. All eyes turn to me, and my skin itches.
“How many of you lost money betting O’Keefe and I would’ve punched each other by now?” A couple of the guys grumble, but no one confesses. These guys are so competitive they make side bets on all non-sports things. “Okay, who’s still in the pool?”
Brant, Benz, and Mav raise their hands. “We bet on you, baby,” Brant sings, and Theo grunts.
Words seem trivial, and I won’t be able to say enough without everyone jumping in and giving advice or asking questions.
I face Theo to confirm we’re ready for this, and he gives me a head tilt of approval.
“Did anyone bet on this?” I close the gap between us, hook my arm around Theo’s neck, and fuse our mouths together. He’s stiff for a moment, then fists my braids. For a second, we’re alone, in our bubble. Me and Theo. Connected at the lips.
The bubble bursts with hollers and backslaps. Theo growls again. “Keep your hands to yourselves. Mav, I’m talking to you.” He glowers at a stunned Mav. “And you”—he points to Brant—“no more flirting with my man online. I don’t care if you have some mystery man; you can’t have mine.”
Brant flushes bright red, which is compounded by Ari Dimon’s appearance in the locker room.
“We need Finn in on this.” Ari turns on his heel and stalks out.