21. Hunter
twenty-one
hunter
WE’RE ON A CRAZY WINNING STREAK.
And it feels fucking amazing.
Sometimes I want to pinch myself, because the past two months have been a really good time in my life. The guys are all going extra-hard with all their little rituals and superstitions too. Nobody wants this momentum to stop.
When I’m on the ice, my mind is nothing but hockey, hockey, hockey.
Even if I wanted to think about something else, I couldn’t, because I’m skating hard as fuck, like my life depends on it, my eyes following that little rubber disc as if there’s nothing more important in the world. And in those moments, there isn’t.
I’ve always loved how hockey clears my mind.
I know non-athletes probably can’t fathom pushing your body so hard, risking injury, and taking nonstop hits from big, burly guys for an hour, but for me it’s like therapy. It’s where I take out all my frustrations and stress. There’s almost nothing like it. Except really hot sex with Stevie.
“He’s fearless,” the hockey announcer on the TV says. “Always heading to the net and he doesn’t hesitate to shoot.”
“Yeah, Simon,” his co-announcer replies. “Three goals and two assists. That’s a five-point night. You can really see why he’s their star player.”
They’re talking about me.
I don’t always care what the announcers say when I watch our replays, but I can’t pretend I’m not proud of myself and my team for killing it so far this season.
Jamie, Ryder, Martinez, and Sean are over at my place watching the replay of our game from last night. It was a 6-1 win against UConn. Martinez made 31 saves, only letting one goal in, and that was on a power play.
The announcers go particularly crazy over a spectacular save he made in the third period. Martinez grins ear-to-ear as he hears the call.
“Damn right,” he says, rising from his seat. “I’m unstoppable.” He deepens his voice and spreads his arms wide. “You shall not pass!”
“You were amazing, bro,” I tell him. “You all were,” I add, addressing the others. “If we keep this up, we’re in the Frozen Four for sure.”
“Fuck yeah,” Ryder says. “We will be.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Sean admonishes, looking panicked.
Ryder rolls his eyes. “I’m not jinxing anything. Relax.”
“You make fun of me for being too superstitious, but I’m telling you, man, my lucky socks, the necklace my ex gave me, and the bacon, eggs, and avocado I eat every morning are working.”
Ryder looks at Sean like he’s crazy. I catch his eye and slightly shake my head, telling him without words to leave Sean alone.
If Sean’s superstitions help him play better, I’m not going to make fun of him for having them.
Let him believe what he believes. We’re winning and that’s all that matters. Ryder sighs and nods at me.
The guys start talking smack about the other team’s plays.
I check my phone, hoping to see a text from Stevie, but there’s nothing yet. We talked yesterday and it was good. I don’t know why I want to see a text from her every second I’m not with her, but I do. And it pisses me off.
I’ve been spending as much time with her as I can between games and class, but it never seems like enough. If she was my wife, she would be in my house, and I could see her, talk to her, and fuck her more often.
Thinking about marrying her leads me to think about my father’s new marriage and the feelings that come over me are overwhelming.
His stupid party is coming up sooner than I’d like.
I wish I had a game that day or something else that could be used as a plausible excuse to miss it.
Like maybe hospitalization. Yeah, the prospect of celebrating my father’s marriage is less appealing than being hospitalized.
“Hey,” I say, interjecting into my friends’ conversation. “My dad’s celebrating his marriage next month. You guys have to come.”
They look at me in surprise, obviously not expecting me to say any of those words.
“Your dad’s married?” Martinez asks.
“Yeah. Just recently.” I huff out a breath. “I have a stepmom now and she’s probably only ten years older than me.”
Ryder laughs. “Yikes.”
“Is she hot?” Sean asks, and I throw a pillow at him.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
He grins. “Sorry, bro.”
“Anyway,” I say, emphasizing each syllable. “You fuckers better be there.”
“We got your back,” Jamie says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry.” Jamie knows everything about my childhood and my relationship with my father. The other guys just know that I don’t get along with him, but none of the really gritty details.
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
“Do I have to wear a suit?” Ryder asks, just to get on my nerves.
I side-eye him. “Don’t piss me off.”
He grins and takes another sip of his beer.
“I’ll wear my lucky suit,” Sean chimes in, completely serious.
Ryder gives him the coldest look I’ve ever seen. “You have a lucky suit,” he deadpans.
“Yeah.”
Jamie squeezes Sean’s shoulder. “Sean has something lucky for every occasion, don’t you, buddy?”
Sean shrugs Jamie’s hand off, looking put-upon. “I hate you assholes.” Then he grins. “Just be grateful I brought all my luck to Concord. I could’ve gone to Greenwood instead!”
Martinez points at him. “That’s right, man. Don’t take shit from these assholes. You’re our lucky charm.”
Sean groans. “Please don’t call me that.”
We all laugh as Sean puts his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he says. “That’s gonna be my new nickname, isn’t it?”
“Yup,” Ryder says, grinning and enjoying every minute of Sean’s discomfort. The guys keep ribbing Sean, but he’s mostly a good sport about it. I check my phone again, willing a text from Stevie to materialize.
I hate that I can’t control this urge.
I’m usually in excellent control of my emotions and actions. Almost from the moment I met Stevie, though, I’ve felt my control slipping more and more. And I don’t fucking like it.
Refusing to torture myself further, I shoot her a text asking what she’s doing.
Stevie
I’m having lunch with Celeste! Text you later
I stare at the message. Already? I know they mentioned having lunch when they met last week, but I didn’t think they’d actually make plans so soon. I…don’t even know how it makes me feel.
Me
Where?
Stevie
At Wildfire!
Wildfire is one of the fanciest restaurants in town.
A favorite of my father’s. No doubt he recommended it.
Anger and fear war in my chest, as they often do when I think of my father.
I have a terrible feeling about it all, and my gut is rarely wrong.
I don’t want Stevie to get close to Celeste.
If it were up to me, Stevie and I would go off grid, live in a log cabin deep in the woods somewhere where no one could ever find us.
Sometimes I want to escape so badly, but I feel trapped by my family’s expectations and all my obligations to them.
I hate that my father keeps me on a tight leash.
I hate that I love my grandfather despite all his faults.
I hate that neither he nor my uncle stand up to my father.
I hate that I don’t stand up to my father.
On the TV, they show a replay of my third goal late in the third period.
I look so confident and capable on the ice.
I look, and am, unstoppable. But when it comes to my life off the ice, I’m not unstoppable.
I’m not the confident and formidable opponent who shoots pucks into the net like it’s a walk in the park.
In my real life, I’m still a scared eight-year-old boy who couldn’t save his mom.