Chapter 20
LAINEY
Matt can’t stop looking at me knowingly while I help stretch his hips out before tonight’s game.
Releasing his knee from my grip, I slowly let his leg return to normal. “How’s that feeling?”
He flexes his legs out and to the side on the table, nodding. “Great. Thank you.”
“Anytime. Good luck tonight.”
He chuckles. “We aren’t the ones who need good luck.”
My lips part, a question hovering between them, but Matt beats me to it.
“Cole is going to need to pray to God to get through the game.” Matt fights back the smirk on his lips, and I’m wondering what exactly the guys have planned for him.
There’s a quiet ache, a whisper of regret in my chest that is telling me to call this off and let him be. But he dug his own grave when he showed up to Alec and Laura’s house, unannounced. They might be targeting him for that alone.
“Well …” I trail off, having no idea what else to say.
He stands up, rocking back and forth on his feet, kicking his legs out. “Thanks for helping me.”
“Yeah, of course.” I smile politely, my anxiety thrumming in my rib cage.
I know Cole can’t retaliate against me, but then why do I feel so goddamn nervous?
The next hour drags by slowly, leading up to puck drop. Caitlin and the rest of the trainers are running around, finishing prep work and helping with any last-minute tweaks. Tonight, I’m just here as backup.
My main job this evening was helping Matt, who is becoming one of my primary patients. A few other players who are on injury reserve are scheduled to start with me in the next week, and I’m excited to fully immerse myself in my job.
In the meantime, I’m trying not to step on anyone’s toes, particularly Caitlin’s. I don’t want to ruffle any more feathers, especially since she’s not kicking me off her team for hiding my association with Jensen.
“Need anything?” I ask her as she strolls down the tunnel toward the bench.
She offers me a genuine smile, talking to me without stopping. “Everything’s ready to go. Thank you though.”
I nod, leaning against the wall with my legs crossed, the lights dimming in the arena as the pregame show begins.
The hype video starts, and music plays through the speakers, and I hear—or rather, feel—the team walking down the tunnel toward me.
Matt rounds the corner, leading the pack, looking more intimidating than ever with his chin tilted down, mask covering his face. Sometimes, I don’t realize how much of a giant he really is, but he’s six foot five without the skates on.
He lifts his glove up as he approaches, and my heart warms as I bump his fist. Alec behind him does the same. And Cam. Brett. Reed. And the rest of the players continue to bump my fist with their glove as they walk down the hallway, skating out onto the ice.
Love blooms in my chest, warming me to the core. I might not wear a Nighthawks jersey or don their gear, but I feel like a member of their team right now in the way they’re supporting me.
I turn back to face the ice as the last player passes me. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I try to relax. Cole deserves whatever is coming to him, and there’s nothing he can do to me after the fact. I’m not under his thumb anymore, even if, sometimes, my body doesn’t realize that.
After the starting lineup is announced and the players set up for puck drop, my heart jumps into my throat. I’m not worried for Cole at the moment, but for our players. I don’t want them getting hurt because of me.
We win the draw, and Cam doesn’t miss the opportunity to shove at Cole while entering the zone. Cole slaps the back of Cam’s calf with his stick, but the ref doesn’t notice it.
They continue to slap and chirp at each other until Cam changes out with the next line’s forward. Cole skates off to his bench, and I relax for a minute as the teams work their way back through their lines, changing out every forty-five-ish seconds to a minute.
Hockey player’s ice time isn’t set in stone. It’s a fluid part of the game, ebbing and flowing, depending on varying factors, like the puck’s location, the play happening, what’s coming next, and more.
Unlike other sports, where players need ref’s approval or dead game play to sub in, hockey players can switch as they please without stopping the clock and game.
Cam, Brett, and Kos switch out with the previous line. Reed and his new defensive partner swap out as well. Cole still isn’t on the ice, but after the Venom take controlled possession, their players swap out, and Cole skates into the game.
Every single chance our guys get, they check Cole, slash him when the ref isn’t looking, and jab their stick into his sides. They are doing everything possible to piss him off.
Cam picks the Venom player’s pocket and dishes it to Brett, who’s already breaking toward the other end of the ice with no Venom players between him and the goalie. The crowd erupts as Brett catches the puck on his stick and flies past the blue line.
The goalie skates forward, bent down and forward, trying to anticipate Brett’s move. Brett pulls the puck right, dragging the goalie toward it, but at the last second, he tucks it left and backhands it into the net.
“Yes!” I cheer, my excitement getting lost in the swell of applause and celebration.
Brett leads the players toward the bench, bumping gloves with them as the scoreboard adds a point. One to zero, us. The guys hop the bench, the next line and defensive pair switching out before taking the face-off at center ice.
The next ten minutes of play are uneventful, no bickering, goals, or punches. A puck ricochets out of play, and a media time-out is called. Both teams head to the bench, and I decide to use this break to run to the restroom.
Thankfully, using the staff bathroom means no waiting or lines, which lets me return to my standing post before the puck drops in the next play.
Cam takes the draw, winning the face-off and dropping the puck between his legs back across the ice to Alec. Alec fumbles with the puck, and a Venom player steals it away, heading toward Matt.
Reed and his partner are already in position, skating backward into the zone before the Venom breach it. Number fourteen tries a one-timer, but Reed drops to one knee, taking the shot straight in the thigh.
Oof, that’s going to leave a gnarly bruise.
He’s slow to get up, hobbling back and forth on his legs as he continues to play defense, the Venom still in possession of the puck.
Number fourteen passes the puck to Cole, who dekes Cam out and shoots.
The biscuit bounces off Matt’s blocker, back into the slot.
The players swarm it, shooting it chaotically at Matt, who blocks the shots, but Cole doesn’t stop.
He blows into Matt, slapping him with the blade of his stick as he fights for the puck, and it’s our guys’ final straw.
Matt gloves the puck, stands up, and shoves Cole back as hard as he can. Cole’s arms flail as he struggles to balance himself, but he finally does with the help of Cam, who’s wrapping his arm around Cole’s shoulders, dragging him from the scrum ensuing by the net.
Alec escapes the storm and flies toward Cole, ripping him from Cam’s grasp. In the blink of an eye, Alec and Cole drop their gloves, and the arena absolutely explodes.
So much is happening all at once, but I can’t look away from the main fight. They lock on to one another, their left hands fisting the collars of each other’s jersey.
Cole cocks his arm back and swings for Alec, who dodges it. While his fist falls through the air, Alec takes advantage, popping his left knuckles up into Cole’s jaw a couple of times before he maneuvers out of the way.
They slowly spin in a connected circle like boxers rotating in a ring. Cole’s mouth moves, smirking, and it switches a flip in Alec.
He yanks him closer, colliding his right hand into Cole’s cheek at the same time. Discombobulated, Cole struggles, but Alec doesn’t let up. Over and over and over, he pummels Cole’s face, and even from here, I can see red flowing down his chin from Alec’s assault.
Cocking back his arm once more, he drives it through my ex’s temple as hard as he can. Cole bounces off his fist and flops down to the ice.
Holy shit.
Did Alec just knock him out?
The crowd is uncontrollable, everyone on their feet, cheering. A giggle bursts from my lips as Alec runs off the ice, pumping his arms in the air, encouraging the audience’s craziness, which somehow intensifies even more.
Alec rushes down the tunnel toward me, heat rolling off of him in waves. He smiles at me, intensity in his stare as he heads toward the locker room, one of the trainers on his heels to make sure his hand is okay.
Glancing back at the ice, I see Cole get helped to his feet. He slowly skates toward his bench, assisted by one of his teammates. His ego is going to have a tough time living that one down.
After the ref assesses and announces penalties, Alec and Cole both receive two minutes for roughing and ten minutes for misconducts, which means they won’t be returning until the beginning of the next period with how much time is left in the first.
Two other two-minute roughing penalties are given to Brett and a Venom player.
And Cam is given a two-minute penalty for instigating, putting the Venom on an unfair power play.
I think the refs should have just called it evenly because now it seems unbalanced when the chaos was caused by both sides.
But I have a hard time focusing on that when the image of Cole flopping to the ground keeps replaying in my mind. Like a gift that just keeps on giving.
It’s been too long since I had a heart-to-heart with Luca—something we’re usually better at doing, minus the last couple of years after I moved in with Cole.
“Hello?” I answer his call as I lock the doors in Jensen’s car, sitting in the parking lot at the arena.
“Laineyyyy,” he sings cheerfully. “I miss you, kid. What’re you doing?”
“About to leave the arena.”