Chapter 41
ZANE
No one can say that I put myself ahead of the team.
Yeah, I was dealing with personal issues, but I was all-in on winning a championship.
That meant forgetting about everything. When Jakob and I parted ways, I totally meant to make this a permanent arrangement.
My teammates didn’t know I’d ever crossed enemy lines (repeatedly).
They didn’t know I’d ever experienced even a flicker of attraction to another man.
That I could keep to myself. Matter of fact, it wouldn’t even remain a pleasant memory.
I would strike him out of my mind as fast as I could.
I’d stayed quiet leading up to the game, though.
On one hand, that’s normal enough for me.
Whether it’s a regular game or the championship, I focused so intensely on the ice that the rest of the world fell away.
Only my focus felt different this time. The entire world didn’t fall away.
I was just much quieter than normal, ignoring my teammates who were going over pre-game strategy.
The next three hours would decide my fate. I would either win it all, with a chance to become the hockey player I’d always wanted to be, or I would lose and watch my dreams go up in smoke.
The crowd cheered as we took the ice. The fans in the stands looked like a gigantic blur.
I felt a knot form in my stomach but ignored it.
You can’t let little things get the best of you.
Same principle as when I saw Jakob out there.
I turned away from him instantly and skated back down the ice. No need to get sentimental.
Still, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the guy who’d punched me—no, wait, the guy who I’d kissed. The guy whose bed I’d shared countless times. He was beautiful; I couldn’t help noticing that.
He looked back at me, but I turned away, pretending he didn’t exist.
I felt like a hand had throttled my throat. Yeah, I know, I said I tried to strike my memories completely out of my mind. Problem was, I couldn’t do that with Jakob right freaking there.
Three hours. Just three hours, barring overtime or a shootout, and this ordeal would be over and done with.
The horn sounded and both teams lined up at center ice for the national anthem.
As the song played, I focused my eyes on the flag as much as possible.
Still, I couldn’t help shifting my eyes a little.
That wasn’t enough to catch a glimpse of Jakob, though.
I glanced over my shoulder, knowing how much it would irk my teammates.
When the anthem finally ended, the crowd cheered again, and AC/DC’s “Back in Black” pumped through the speakers.
Our teams lined up for face-off. I can’t lie to you; I thought I was going to throw up.
Don’t worry. Feeling like I might get sick before the game was as par for the course as falling silent.
I wanted to have a one-on-one against Jakob but was denied when Jax took the face off. When the puck dropped, Jax swept it up, passing it to me almost immediately. That meathead Levi Dunn practically rocketed toward me. Yes, he was insanely fast for a guy his size, but I wouldn’t back down.
I braced myself for a hit. No, I did more than that. I would lower my shoulder and drive it into him, to show Mr. Levi Dunn that I could give as good as I got. Reality sank in the moment he collided with me.
Have you ever been in a car accident? I was t-boned by an old lady once. The shot Levi delivered reminded me a lot of that.
At least he didn’t knock me flat on my ass. He knocked me off kilter, and I could’ve wound up flat on my ass, but windmilled my arms to help keep myself upright. Nevertheless, Levi jarred the puck loose from me and snatched it up. I chased him down the ice but, amazingly, never caught up with him.
Levi took a shot at the net but missed, striking the boards behind the goalie. I dove for the puck, determined to take it back, but wouldn’t you know it, Jakob Martin swooped right in and grabbed what was mine.
Son of a bitch.
This didn’t have to be all bad. I could take the opportunity to show my ex-boyfriend who was in charge—and who was the better hockey player. So, I chased him down the ice, lowered my shoulder, and drove him right into the boards.
The shot knocked Jakob off his feet, but he regained them swiftly enough. Whistles blew and both teams engulfed us at light speed. Jakob didn’t try to fight me, but that didn’t mean the rest of the Larkin Lions wouldn’t try to stir up shit.
Look, I didn’t care that I’d drawn first blood, but look at my point of view. To me, Jakob drew first blood with that sucker punch at the Colter Bay Grill. That was what it all came down to. Part of me still felt royally pissed off about what happened and wanted to set things to rights.
When the refs separated all of the players, one zebra hooked my arm and led me to the penalty box. He was blathering about rough play or some shit. Like I gave a fuck?
The ref announced a two-minute roughing penalty, and I couldn’t have cared less. I played rough-and-tough hockey, especially against wuss bags like Jakob and his crew of assholes. If he couldn’t handle that, then he didn’t have any business on the ice.
I seated myself in the box, wearing a ginormous smile, and watched my teammates. I knew the penalty would be totally worth it. Someone had to show the Larkin Lions who was in charge, and it might as well have been me.
Still, the Lions scored in less than the two minutes I spent in the box. That didn’t matter. Coach Mack had told us a hundred times if he’d told us once to stay cool when the chips were down.
Only, the chips weren’t really down. It was one lousy goal, and it’d only come during a five-on-four. They didn’t exactly have a leg up on us. The Lions should cherish that goal, I decided, since it would probably be their only one of the night.
Sitting in the penalty box didn’t feel like a punishment. It fueled my drive, making me hungrier to get back out onto the ice and kick some serious ass.
The Lions came dangerously close to scoring again when the refs freed me from the penalty box.
Let’s face it, the Riptides had come back from worse to win games.
The only reason I didn’t go straight for Jakob again was the fact that their coach had pulled him off the ice and sent out the next shift.
He was lucky. I might not have knocked him flat on his ass the first time, but I would make totally sure he wouldn’t be so lucky the next time.
I won the next faceoff, swept up the puck, and raced down the ice. My first shot on goal bounced the puck right off the post but I wouldn’t be deterred. I swung around the net and slipped the puck in, leaving Ryan Detenbeck standing there with his thumb up his ass.
The crowd roared and I raised my arms high like I’d already reached victory. I didn’t care that we had another two periods of hockey left to play. I wanted to rub that goal in the Larkin’s face as much as humanly possible.
When I returned to the bench, all the guys slapped my hand, shoulder, and pretty much every other body part they could reach.
Jax smiled at me, saying, “That was fucking awesome, brother. I’ve been waiting for you to unleash that version of Zane Hirst.”
Jax sounded like he wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth.
Also, I didn’t know if he only meant to compliment my goal or the hit I’d laid on Jakob.
Or both. Either way, it made me think that the real Zane had been missing for far too long.
You know, the months on end I’d spent fucking Jakob Martin senseless and letting him wake up in my arms. Pulling the plug on that made way for the real Zane Hirst to make a comeback and win it all.
Before my next on-ice shift, the buzzer sounded, ending the first period. The Lions and Riptides were tied at one. FYI, the only reason we were tied at all was because I’d spent two minutes in the penalty box for nearly knocking my ex-boyfriend on his ass.
When we returned to the locker room, Coach Mack told us how great we were doing, but that it still wasn’t enough.
He wanted us to crush Larkin and make them sorry they’d shown up.
That sounded like a very Coach Mack thing to say.
He complimented our physical play but reminded us that we could get even more intense.
He offered no financial incentive this time, but I understood his meaning. He wanted us to go out there and put a hurt on the Larkin Lions. It didn’t matter which player as long as we got the job done.
Coach Mack didn’t have to tell me twice.
I absorbed little else of what our coach said. My focus had grown that intense and unrelenting. When we returned to the ice, my eyes never veered from Jakob Martin. I wanted him badly, and not in the way I’d wanted him for months. He looked so sheepish, so weak, and I saw my opportunity.
The puck dropped again, kicking off the second period. Jax fired the puck to me, and I darted down the ice. Jakob got in my way, and I stiff-armed my ex to keep him at bay. Then he snatched the puck right out from behind my stick.
The little son of a bitch.
I chased him up the ice and drove my shoulder into him for the second time. That blow didn’t come closer to knocking him over, but at least I didn’t get penalized for the simple act of playing hockey.
Anyway, it was only the start of the second period. I had plenty of time to deliver a shot that would count.