Chapter 29 #2
Coach Hawkins had them running a complex zone entry drill that had the forwards weaving through a maze of pylons at full speed before hitting the defense with a three-on-two rush.
Even from here, I could see the precise edge work, the crisp passes, the way they communicated without words.
These weren't just good female players—they were elite athletes, period.
I couldn't help but look forward to the afternoon mixed teams scrimmage. Maybe playing against the girls would wake my bum ass teammates up to the fact that talent alone was never enough to stay on the top.
“Eyes forward, Summers.” Hailey's voice snatched my attention at once, and I turned to give her a lazy smile.
“You guys have some literal monsters on your team.” I said, gesturing to the rink as we passed, toward where Gina Whitehall was absolutely demolishing the defensive coverage with a nasty toe-drag move.
“Whitehall's got hands like butter. It’ll be fun to see how she plays against us during the mixed scrimmage.”
But watching her only served in giving me flashbacks to the excellence that was Hailey Baleman.
Hailey replied, “Save the analysis for your own team, Summers.”
Fair. Pine needles crunched under our boots as we walked, and somewhere in the distance, an eagle screamed. Then—
“Are you usually that harsh on your team?” Hailey's question was quiet, but it was somber, and I paused.
What? Does that mean she'd heard... everything ? How long had she been there, then? Shit, had she thought I’d looked cool? Did I look cool? There I was, panicking over those thoughts that it took a while for my brain to process her actual question.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Sometimes they need a little tough love.” Was all I finally replied to her with and she huffed out a small breath.
“Never would've imagined you could get so serious.” She said and I turned to look at her.
“Do you think I'm some sort of Captain figurehead or something?” I asked her, incredulous and her side eye and silence was enough answer for me. “What the hell, man?”
“Not my fault you have a reputation for being a playboy with your brain snugly couched in your balls.” She said and I choked.
“What the hell did you—?”
“Here.” Hailey pulled a folded paper from her jacket pocket, handing it to me without breaking stride. “Roster for the mixed teams scrimmage this afternoon. I've already picked my players.”
I slipped the paper into my pocket without glancing at it once. “Hey, seriously, what did you just—?”
We were almost to the equipment shed when a voice cut through the morning calm like a serrated knife.
“Well, well. If it isn't the Ice Queen herself.” Derek Morrison pushed off from where he'd been lounging against the storage building, his vice-captain Brad Jamison flanking him like an obedient dog.
They were flanked by four other players, all of them wearing smug and mean-spirited smirks as they watched their Captain saunter towards us.
Then Derek’s eyes flicked to me, blatant hatred and condescension shining in their depths, as be added, “And her faithful lapdog.”
Ah. There went our peaceful fucking morning. I’d been wondering when we’d get to run into the other teams. And, on the other hand, I’d also been hoping that we wouldn’t have to run into any of them. Looked like my hope was for nothing.
“Heard our coach say some other teams were in here too. Was hoping to run into you fuckers.” He snickered.
“Hey, Hailstorm, you hear something?” I twisted one finger in my ear as if cleaning it out, and we just continued walking towards the shed. There was just no damn point in replying to these pests, really.
Derek Morrison and Brad Jamison of the Riverside Rebels were cockroaches that just wouldn't die. Every year, we'd crush them in the preliminaries to the Collegiate Championship, and every year, they'd come crawling back with bigger chips on their shoulders and even shittier attitudes.
But what really made my blood boil wasn't the rivalry—hell, rivalries were part of hockey.
No, it was their particular brand of bullshit; the way they treated female players like they were some kinds of joke.
Two years of watching them sneer at the Belles, make crude comments, dismiss their achievements.
Yeah, I had about enough of their shit to last a lifetime.
“What's wrong, Summers?” Derek called out, his voice dripping with fake concern. “She got you trained so well you can't even say hello to old friends?”
That earned him more fucking sniggering from his stupid teammates.
I kept walking, my hand instinctively moving closer to Hailey's elbow. Not just to protect her—Christ, I knew she could handle herself—but to stop myself from doing something stupid. Like rearranging Morrison's teeth.
Thankfully, Coach Gunner's warning was ringing in my head, reining me in: “Two: No fights.” Funny how the possibility of an altercation wasn't even from a disagreement between the Rink Runners and the Blizzard Belles like our coaches had no doubt feared.
No, it was these motherfuckers who were stirring the pot. I clenched my jaw. Well, Coach didn't say anything about not fighting some persistent assholes, did he?
“Careful, Derek,” Brad snickered. “Don't want to make him jealous. You know how protective he gets over his little... investment.”
That made me pause. What the hell? Hailey had already tensed up beside me, and I could feel the temperature dropping another ten degrees.
They were skating on thin ice right now, and I was already nearing the end of my patience.
“You know what I think?” Derek's voice took on that ugly edge I remembered from every dirty hit, every cheap shot he'd ever thrown.
“I think our boy Summers here’s turned into a soy boy.
Getting real cozy with the ladies' team, aren't you?
Maybe if you spent less time playing house with this frigid chick who can freeze your boner off, you wouldn't need her to reorganize your practices—”
Hold it in. Hold it in, Summers. I opened my mouth then to tell them off, but Hailey beat me to it.
“Fascinating theory,” She cut in, her voice arctic and yet managing to deliver the words in a smooth drawl. “Got any other brilliant insights? Or are you just mad because you know I'd smoke you in a real game?”
Derek's tone dropped and darkened. “The fuck did you just say?”
I saw his teammates bristle out of the corners of my eyes, and man, I wished they would try some shit.
“You heard her.” I turned fully now, letting my smile show all my teeth. “That's what this is really about, isn't it? You're so fucking terrified of getting shown up by a woman that you have to run your mouth. Must keep you up at night, knowing Baleman's a better player than you'll ever be.”
“Better?” Brad barked out a laugh, but I caught the way his hands twitched. “That why you sniff around her like a damn dog? What's she giving you under the table, Summers? Must be something real special to have you this whipped—”
What a load of bullshit. Imagine being so insecure that you had to take it out on a female athlete not even in your division.
The rest of his words died in his throat as I closed the distance between us in two strides. “Want to finish that thought?” I asked quietly. “Because I'm getting real tired of listening to you try to overcompensate for your limp dick.”
“Back off, Summers,” Derek stepped forward, trying to use his bulk to intimidate me. Too bad I had three inches and twenty pounds on him, and all that earned him was one arched brow. “Or what, you gonna fight her battles for her?”
“Nah.” My smile grew even colder. “She doesn't need me for that. But since you're bent on being the pathetic bastard who’d go after a woman instead of the person who plays and wins against your sorry ass—” I spread my arms wide, “—why don't we settle it on the ice?”
Derek's eyes narrowed. “You challenging me?”
“Oh no,” I said, pleasure coiling in my chest. “I'm offering you a chance to prove you're not as pathetic as you look. Two-on-two.” Mischief curved my lips slightly upward as I glanced at Hailey once.
She looked like she’d been carved from ice, but the anger in her eyes? Oh, I knew it would burn the skin right off their bones if unleashed. So, I was going to give her the opportunity to unleash that cold fire.
I turned back to look him right in the eye and said, “Me and Baleman versus you and your shadow over there. Unless…” I cocked my head, “you're scared of getting shown up by a girl? Again?”