22. Maddox
Maddox
I can’t believe I’m on a four-hour car trip with two people I’ve never spoken to before today. I thought it’d be strange, but both Isaac and Archer make it a point to include me in their conversations.
What is Killian doing to me? This isn’t something I’ve ever done before.
I don’t travel for hours to watch a sport I don’t understand that much.
I even booked a room in the same hotel the team’s staying at, and Killian’s planning to sneak out at night to meet up with me.
I scrub a hand over my face and suppress a laugh.
I don’t want Archer and Isaac, who are in the driver’s and passenger’s seats respectively, to think I’m having a mental breakdown.
I check my phone to see if I have something from Killian, but miraculously, he’s been quiet.
I guess he’s spending quality time with his teammates.
Before I close my messaging app though, I frown at some unread texts from an unregistered number.
I have no idea who it is, but they sent me a bunch of cryptic messages.
Unknown number: ??????
Unknown number: Whhat did you do??1?!!
Unknown number: Are you insasne
Might be a drunk guy texting the wrong number. Snorting, I delete the messages .
“Hey, Maddox,” Archer suddenly says, meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror.
He looks so much like Rhys, it’s uncanny.
Anybody who’s met Rhys would instantly know this is his older brother.
“So what do you think about the Icehawks camp that Isaac’s trying to recruit Schultz into?
Rhys turned down an interview and Isaac here’s heartbroken about it. Everyone’s turning him down.”
Isaac glowers at him.
“What summer camp?” I ask.
“He didn’t tell you?” Isaac asks. “There’s this annual summer camp held by the club I work for, and we’re looking for more staff. I think Schultz would be perfect for it.”
I nod. “Yeah. He enjoys volunteering when you’re training at the rink. What did he say?”
“I’ve brought it up with him a few times, but he’s never given me a definite answer.”
I chew my lip. Why hasn’t Killian mentioned this to me? Though he does always get quiet every time we talk about his plans for the future.
“What about you, Maddox?” Archer asks. “Are you also graduating this year?”
“I’ll be finishing my master’s, then next year I’ll start on my PhD.”
“Oh, wow, a genius!” Archer laughs. “Do you live in graduate housing?”
“Didn’t get in this year, but soon, hopefully.”
“Shit, look at these kids,” Isaac says, as if both of them aren’t just a few years older than us. He’s kidding though. I think. “Caleb and Nick are heading to the NHL, Rhys might play for the AHL, and Maddox here is going to be a graduate student. Very impressive.”
I cock my head and add, “And Killian might coach.”
Or, if his dad gets his way, he might play in the AHL.
The thought of Killian bowing down to what his dad wants makes my spine stiffen. I want him to be happy, and I don’t want him to blindly do what he already said he doesn’t want. Honestly, if I ever came face-to-face with his dad, there’s no telling what I’d say.
Huh. Who knew I was this protective over Killian ?
Isaac turns his head and grins at me. “Talk to Killian, will you?”
“I will,” I say, even if I’m not sure how.
***
I guess I fall asleep, because before I know it, Isaac is nudging me awake. The door’s open and he’s standing right outside, his hand on my shoulder. “We’re here,” he announces.
“Shit,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “Sorry. I dozed off.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. All Archer did was whine about how his brother won’t agree to the blind dates he sets up for him, anyway.”
“Hey!” Archer calls from behind him. “I’m just looking out for him. If you weren’t dating Marge, I would be doing the same thing for you!”
“Okay, okay.” Isaac snorts and rolls his eyes. He steps aside to let me through, and as soon as I look around the parking lot, my jaw drops. Tons of people are outside, all dressed in both team’s school colors.
I think this is the biggest game I’ve ever been to.
Killian said it was a big game, but I didn’t realize how big until now.
Inside, there’s barely an empty seat. It’s incredibly loud, and the announcers are pumping up the crowd even more.
I follow Archer and Isaac to our seats, which are near the boards, and grin when I see the Camrose team is already warming up on the ice.
Killian sees me immediately, skating up to me and knocking a gloved hand against the plexiglass. He yells something at me, and I gesture at my ears and shake my head to let him know I can’t hear him through the glass and the loud crowd. Grinning, he points at my eyes, then at himself.
Watch me, he mouths.
I nod—of course I will. It’s such a simple gesture, but it spurs Killian on, his eyes glinting and his mouth turning into a devilish smile.
Oh, he’s going to give it his all. I can tell.
I’ve never cared that much about hockey and only watch because my best friend has been playing it all his life, and I definitely get competitive about games sometimes, but nothing compares to what I feel at this moment.
That’s my boyfriend there. That’s Camrose’s best defenseman, and he’s telling me to watch him. I wish this glass would disappear, because the urge to kiss him right now is too much.
One of their coaches whistles, and Killian waggles his eyebrows at me before skating off to regroup with his team.
Isaac nudges my elbow. “Maddox, look.” He points to our left, where there are a couple of guys in suits discussing among themselves.
“Who are they?”
“Scouts. Caleb and Nick are both already NHL-bound, but for the other seniors, this is possibly their last chance to catch an agent’s eyes.”
Wow, the pressure…
“It’s why Rhys is freaking out,” Archer says, pointing at his brother who’s chugging down an energy drink as if his life depends on it.
“He really wants to continue playing next year. Minnesota invited him to their camp, but they haven’t offered him anything definite yet.
If Schultz wants to go pro, then this is also possibly his last chance to impress them. ”
My gaze drifts over to Killian. He didn’t mention this to me, but I should have known. Even if he’s not interested in going pro, this game is clearly very important to him and to the team.
The announcers signal that the match is starting, and both Archer and Isaac get up and cheer.
As it always is, the game’s fast-paced.
I may be smart as hell, but hockey’s always been difficult to follow, with how quickly everything happens and all the complicated rules.
And there’s so much animosity between the two teams—if they allowed fighting at the collegiate level like they do in the professional leagues, I think there would already have been at least half a dozen by now .
By the third period, nobody’s been able to score a goal in what seems like forever.
It’s 2-2, and it’s a race to get the next one.
My heart’s pounding loud in my ears, and every time Killian blocks the puck with his body or gets checked into the boards, I get more uneasy.
I’m petrified that he’ll get injured again and come out of it with something way worse than a bruised shoulder.
Oh, dear god. What’s happening to me?
I’ve watched hockey tons of times, but until Killian happened, I’ve never been this scared that someone might hurt themselves on the ice.
I keep my eyes glued on him the entire time, just like he told me to.
Not for the first time, I realize how sharp he is when plays.
His reflexes are out of this world, and he seems to know what’s happening before it even occurs.
It’s as if he knows exactly where their opponents and the puck will be at any time.
And he’s confident in his ability to see through the opposing team’s offense. I actually think I’m getting hard watching him bark orders at his teammates, telling them where they need to be.
Isaac nudges my elbow. “Your boyfriend’s a menace, isn’t he?”
I grin with pride. “Yes.”
The woman behind me suddenly yells Nick’s name, and I snap my attention back to the ice. Archer cups his mouth and jumps up in his seat, shouting, “Go, Nick! GO! Fuck. Yes!”
Nick gets the puck into the net and our side of the rink goes wild. Holy shit. I snap my eyes to the clock—there are ten minutes left, and we’re up by a point.
Oh, god. I think I’m about to hyperventilate. Who knew I cared so much about this game?
Even when I thought it was impossible, both teams get even fiercer after that.
It gets a bit more dirty, too—though I’m not sure if that’s on purpose.
Killian told me once that sometimes when the games are too intense and emotions are high, it’s hard for the brain to keep up.
And with everything happening so fast, one’s senses can get clouded .
I see what he means in real-time when a forward from the other team is so focused on getting to the puck, skating at a high-speed, that he doesn’t see Rhys until it’s too late.
They collide, and it’s bad.
My heart drops to my stomach when Rhys flies into the boards, the crack of it resounding through the noise, and then he falls onto the ice.
He doesn’t get up.
Archer, who’s been shouting the entire game, goes quiet. When I glance at him, his face is white as a sheet, and I think he’s about to throw up. Isaac has an identical expression, his hands fisted on his lap.
Nick is by Rhys’s side immediately, and when he yanks his helmet off to get a better look, there’s fear in his expression.
A referee’s telling him to give Rhys space as someone from the medical team gets onto the ice, and another referee’s blocking a few players from our team from getting to the forward who collided with Rhys.