Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
WADE
The minute I saw Ethan go right, I should have known he was pulling a deke. Instead, I went down to block, and he shot the puck into the top shelf.
He goes down on one knee, pumping his fist.
I groan at his exaggerated celly. “You got lucky, D-man.”
But I know it’s more than that—I’m distracted.
Ethan spins around and bows. “Aaaaand you’re welcome.”
With a grunt, I pull off my catcher, shove my helmet up, then grab my water bottle from the back of the net.
Bree’s first day has barely started, and I’m already feeling the tug on my attention.
If she hadn’t appeared off in Rebecca’s office, I’d probably be fine.
But something shifted…changed in her, and I can’t figure it out.
It’s not like she’s never looked at me before, but this time, her expression seemed different as if she were seeing me for the first time.
Maybe I’m reading too much into things, but it’s like I’m on full alert, analyzing her every move. At this rate, I’ll either go into mental overload or, worse, shut down. And that definitely won’t help my career or advance us to the playoffs.
Luke skates over and comes to a stop at the crease. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. His raised brow questions me louder than any words he might speak.
Still, I play dumb. “What? He got a lucky shot.”
His jaw ticks. “If you say so.”
I curse under my breath as he skates off, then tug my helmet off as I lay my stick across the top of the net. Next, I grab my water bottle and spray a stream into my mouth, which I swish and spit out. The second squirt I swallow, then douse my face and head—all the usual.
After I slick back my hair, I shove my helmet on, then my glove. I grasp my stick, give each side of the pipes a tap before smacking the center with the flat side. A deep breath, and then I spin around and move into position.
Normally, I save this for my pregame routine, but I need a reset. I focus everything I’ve got on the puck and block every shot for the rest of the drill.
Until Payton takes his turn. Pay is one of the fastest forwards I’ve ever seen, and he knows how to use his speed to advantage. Doesn’t hurt that he’s always changing up his moves, too—part of what keeps our team ranking in the top ten so far. We’re seriously lucky to have a sniper like him.
He gets into position, then flies down the ice before I even have a chance to think about what he might do. But that’s the reality during every game, and I welcome the challenge.
A rookie tries to steal the puck, but to no avail. He’ll learn a vital lesson on this one as Payton gives the biscuit a gentle tap, sliding it between the kid’s skates before charging at me like an angry bull barreling toward its perceived threat.
I drop into a butterfly, ready to block to my left, but he goes around the net, trying to pull a classic Gretzky move. When I realize what he’s doing, I launch to the other side, glove in the air and right leg extended.
The puck bounces off my pad, but as my skate hits the pipe, I feel a pop in my groin area.
“Killer shot, Maxwell!” Mathéo pats him on the back.
Payton slips his helmet off. “Cheers, Barbie-man. Even better if I’d made it into the net.”
I shift to my side, careful to stay prone on the ice a little longer, hoping the burn in my inner thigh backs off.
Luke’s head fills my view. “You okay, Cowboy?”
“I’m good, Cap. Just give me a sec.” I don’t meet his probing stare because I know the minute I do, he’ll figure out something’s up. That’s part of what makes Jameson such a great captain—he’s always watching, checking on his team to make sure we’re not hiding anything.
If I’m smart, I won’t try to hide this. But we have a game tomorrow against our rival, and I really want to be there for the fellas, especially for Maxwell. But playing through a pull could lead to a tear.
As I roll onto my back, Luke calls Coach over.
Next thing I know, I’m surrounded by a bunch of studious heads. Coach Markelson hovers above me to my left. Next to him stand Luke, then Ethan, Elias, Payton, and Mathéo, surrounding me in that order.
Coach points to Luke and Ethan. “Jameson, McKennen, get him up and help him back to the locker room.
I push my helmet off. “I’m fine, Coach. Just need a minute.”
Nonetheless, I’m hefted up by my teammates, who don’t seem to want to let go. I pull away to skate to the net, but a sharp twinge in my inner thigh makes me hiss through my teeth.
“Locker room. Now.” Coach’s acid tone cuts off any arguments I might have. Even if I had tried to argue, Luke’s glare alone would have cut me off before I started.
After a nerve-racking assessment, I’m diagnosed with what I already knew—a groin pull. I’m relieved it’s not a tear, but it means I can’t practice or play for a week, possibly two. That part sucks because I need to be there for my team tomorrow night.
To make things worse, I can’t attend the game because I have to keep my leg elevated for the first several days and do the whole RICE—rest, ice, compression, elevation—thing so I can get back to the net.
Plus, I’m not allowed to drive, which means I can’t help Bree return her U-Haul.
Just as that revelation hits, I hear the guys’ voices as they file into the locker room.
When Luke walks into the exam room, he takes one look at me with my leg up and an ice pack on my inner thigh and lets out a stream of curses that twists the dagger of guilt already hanging out of my chest.
I hate—and I do mean hate with a passion—letting my team down. Closing my eyes, I groan and tip my head back on the minuscule rectangle they call a pillow in this place. “Sorry.”
Luke scrapes a hand down his face. “How bad?”
“Just a strain. But I’m out for at least a week.”
He nods. “Guess our new backup goalie will get more playtime sooner than expected.”
Rebecca and Zach did a trade for Mason Holt after last season, so he’s still getting used to how we do things. I’ve worked with him a fair bit, and so far, he seems a good fit. But he hasn’t had to perform under pressure yet.
“What?!” Ethan slides in from behind Luke. “Cowboy, say it ain’t so.”
“Wish I could, but you fellas will be fine.” I’m the one who will turn into a nutcase because I won’t be there.
Luke snorts. “In your dreams.” He cringes when he looks at me and sees the remorse I’m feeling. “Sorry. I know you’re probably more upset about it than we are.”
I have no words, so I simply nod.
The room gets smaller when Elias and Payton squeeze in, along with Mathéo.
An awkward silence fills the small exam room as they bounce their gazes to one another in some secret communication I’m not privy to.
Payton’s the first to speak. “What do you need, mate?”
My gaze coasts from one concerned face to another. “I told Bree I’d take her U-Haul back for her today.”
Elias clears his throat. “I can handle that.”
I lift my chin at him. “Thanks, man.”
He holds his hand out for a bro-shake. “No problem.”
Ethan shifts from one leg to the other. “What else?”
They surround me like an upside-down horseshoe. These guys aren’t just my teammates; they’re my best friends, and I’m letting them down when they need me the most.
I glance at the crutches the therapist brought in for me. This affects more than my position on the team. “Look out for Bree, okay?”
Mathéo lifts his brows.
I clench my jaw and speak through my teeth. “Hands off, Barbie-man, or you’ll resemble a Ken doll, if you catch my meaning.”
His face pales, matching the walls in the room. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I was only going to suggest we help her get familiar with Sarabella, since you’ll be laid up.”
“Fine, but go in groups,” I snarl.
Luke pats my shoulder. “Chill, man. We know better than to touch your girl.”
“She’s not mine.” I drop my head onto the pathetic pillow with a groan.
He lifts that brow at me again. “Maybe not yet.”
I brush off his comment. “Elias, my keys are in my locker. Make sure Bree gets them, and thank you for helping her with the trailer.”
He nods, then leaves, along with Mathéo.
McKennen bounces a fist on my good leg. “I’ll drive you home when they cut you loose.”
“Thanks, man.” We bro-shake before he walks out, leaving Luke and me alone again.
He settles onto the stool next to the exam table. “When are you going to tell her how you feel?”
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Um, never. What’s the point? She sees me only as a friend. More like a brother.”
“Sometimes things change.”
If he’d only been with me this morning when Bree looked at me as if I sprouted horns or something. I could use an objective opinion or someone to tell me to get over it.
Over her.
I turn my head toward him. “I’ve known Bree since I was seven years old. We grew up together. Trust me when I say that’s not going to happen.”
He pats the vinyl exam table and stands. “Not with that attitude, it won’t.”
Before he reaches the door, I call him back. “I get what you’re saying, but not everyone gets their dream girl, okay? Bree’s my best friend. I can’t jeopardize that. Besides,” I push up on my elbows, “I think she’s been through something.”
“You think?” His tone is borderline confrontational, as if he’s surprised I haven’t gotten the full story yet.
“I’ve asked, but she won’t tell me anything.”
“Then keep letting her know you’re there when she’s ready.”
A weighty breath bleeds out between my lips. “Yeah, that.”
One side of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “Could open a door to something more.”
He leaves before I can argue, and to be honest, I don’t want to. More than anything, I’d like to believe he could be right.
Being there for Bree is easy. I’d do anything for her, but I’m not sure how long I can keep my feelings in check, especially when she’s living with me.
Then, an idea hits me. If I’m going to be laid up for at least a week, I’ll need something to occupy my time between physical therapy sessions and resting.
And finding Bree a place to live will be the perfect distraction.