Chapter 25
GAbrIEL
I HAVE TO LOSE THE game. The thought loops in my head as I lace up my skates in the locker room. I’m more than annoyed. Actually, I’m furious, but I can’t show it.
Zyair claps me on the shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”
I nod and force a smile. Everyone’s expecting me to play well tonight, prove myself after all the drama, and show that I’m still the player they always thought I was.
But I have no choice.
I finish tying my skates and pull on my jersey. Around me, the guys are pumping themselves up. Taj is shadowboxing in the corner. Cory is listening to music with his eyes closed. Zyair is going over plays on his phone.
They all believe in us and think we’re going to win.
And I’m about to ruin it for them.
WHEN I SKATE ONTO THE ice, the crowd roars. I scan the stands quickly and spot Scarlett in the front row. She’s wearing a jersey with my name on it, and when our eyes meet for a split second, she grins and waves.
Fuck.
The whistle blows, and the game starts. I move through the motions, keeping up with the pace, but I’m counting down the minutes until I have to throw the game. Every stride feels forced, and every play like a lie.
For the first few minutes, I play normally. I can’t make it obvious right away, so I intercept a pass and send it to Taj, who takes a shot. It bounces off the goalie’s pad, and the crowd groans. Taj skates back, shaking his head.
“Almost had it,” he mutters.
I nod, but I’m not really listening because I’m too busy thinking about what I have to do.
I skate back to my position, my mind working through how I’m going to do this without making it look intentional. It has to seem like I’m just having an off night. Bad luck or poor timing. Not sabotage.
Halfway through the first period, I get the puck. I’m wide open, and the goal is right there. The goalie is slightly out of position, and I have a clear shot. I can feel the crowd holding their breaths. All I have to do is shoot.
I aim wide. The puck sails past the net and hits the boards with a loud clang.
“Shake it off!” Coach yells from the bench.
I skate back into position, and Zyair gives me a look. I avoid his eyes and focus on the ice.
A few plays later, Taj passes me the puck.
I’m in the perfect position again. The defense is scrambling, and I have an opening.
This time, I fumble it. The puck rolls off my stick like I lost control, and it gets intercepted by the other team.
They race down the ice, passing it back and forth, and before our defense can recover, they score.
The red light flashes. The buzzer sounds. The other team celebrates.
“Gabriel, what the fuck?” Taj shouts as he skates past me.
I don’t respond, just skate harder, pretending I’m trying to make up for it. But I’m actually betraying my team.
The first period ends, and I’m breathing hard. Not from exertion, but from stress. Coach pulls me aside during the break in the locker room.
“What’s going on with you out there?” he asks.
“Just not feeling it today, Coach.”
“You need to get your head in the game. The team needs you.”
“I know. I’ll do better.”
But I won’t. I can’t.
He stares at me for a moment, then nods. “Get some water. Clear your head.”
I grab a water bottle and sit down, staring at the floor as the guys talk about strategy. Zyair is drawing plays on a whiteboard. Cory is adjusting his equipment. Taj is pacing back and forth, hyping himself up.
They all believe we can still win this.
And I’m the reason we won’t.
In the second period, I run into Cory during a play. I make it look like I’m going for the puck, but I collide with him instead. He goes down hard, and the ref blows the whistle. The crowd boos.
“What are you doing?” Cory snaps as he gets up, shoving me.
“Sorry. Accident.”
He glares at me, and I can see the frustration in his eyes. The team is struggling, and I’m making it worse. He shoves me again before skating away, and I let him because I deserve it.
Coach benches me. The humiliation is strong as I take a seat. The crowd is murmuring, and I can feel their disappointment. Some of them are booing. Others are just silent and watching the game.
“What’s up with you today?” Zyair asks during the intermission.
“Just off my game, I guess.”
“We need you out there. Whatever’s going on, you need to push through it.”
I nod. “I know.”
He looks at me for a moment, studying my face. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong, but he won’t find the answer. Not the real one.
“All right,” he says finally. “But get your head in it.”
“I will.”
In the third period, Coach puts me back on the ice. We’re down by two, and the team is fighting hard to catch up. The energy has shifted. Everyone’s playing faster, harder, and more desperate. Taj scores, and we’re only down by one now. The momentum is building, and we have a chance.
During a timeout, Zyair pulls me aside. “What do you think? They’re playing tight defense. We need something they won’t expect.”
This is my chance. I suggest a tactic that sounds good on paper but won’t work in practice. Not against this team. It’s too aggressive and too risky. The defense will see it coming and shut it down. But Zyair won’t realize that until it’s too late.
“What if we push hard on the left and draw their defense out? Then we can slip through the middle.”
Zyair’s brow furrows, and I can see him running through the play in his head. “You think that’ll work?”
“Yeah. They won’t see it coming.”
He nods slowly. “All right. Let’s do it.”
We execute the play. I push left like I said, and the defense follows.
But they’re faster than I made it seem, and they don’t get drawn out as much as I suggested they would.
When Taj tries to slip through the middle, he gets blocked immediately.
The puck gets stolen, and the other team races down the ice.
They score.
Game over.
We lost.
I skate off the ice, relieved, but hating every second of it.
The team is quiet in the locker room. No one’s yelling or saying anything. They’re just staring at the floor, their faces blank.
Zyair’s shoulders are slumped, and he’s staring at his hands like he can’t believe what just happened. Taj is shaking his head, his jaw tight. Cory is leaning back against his locker with his eyes closed.
I hate seeing them like this and knowing that I’m responsible. They trusted me, and I had to stab them in the back.
After I shower and change, I head out to the hallway. Scarlett’s waiting for me and leaning against the wall, her expression unreadable.
“What happened out there?” she asks.
“Bad day.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. That happens sometimes.”
She studies me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You didn’t seem like yourself.”
“I wasn’t feeling it today.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Alley. Now.
Scarlett bumps into me, and the phone slips from my hand. She bends down and picks it up before I can stop her.
“Hey—” I reach for it, but she’s already looking at the screen.
I snatch it back from her, my heart pounding. Did she see something? Did she read the text?
“I need to go,” I say.
“Now? After the game? Where?”
“To handle something.”
“Gabriel, I’m your girlfriend. You can tell me.”
“It’s just a friend who urgently needs some meds.”
“What? Who?”
“I don’t have time.” I turn and head for the door.
“Gabriel!”
I don’t look back. I just keep moving, my mind racing. How am I going to explain this later? What do I even say?
I’m exhausted. They’re always expecting me to come whenever they want. And they don’t want to just send me everything in a text because they don’t want any proof lying around. I’m sick and tired of pretending I’m okay when I’m not.
But it’s not like I can do anything about it.