Chapter 3
Sebastian
“This is our game. We’re skating circles around them out there. Do not let up. Do not get comfortable. I want everyone to know the Ravens mean business this year, all right?”
My voice was a steady boom that echoed across the locker room, one answered by a chorus of roars.
Tonight might have only been an exhibition game, but it was also our chance to set the tone for the entire season.
So far, we’d done that by shoving the puck right down the throats of our competition, and I’d spent every moment on the rink proving that I belonged there without a shadow of a doubt.
I was flying higher than I had in a long time.
In fact, I hadn’t felt this good since I’d taken the ice the night we won the national championship.
The final period began with Providence trailing by three, scrambling to keep us in the neutral zone.
The moment my skates touched the ice, the world righted itself.
Bishop gained possession after the face-off, dumping the puck just moments after Kent shouted, “One hard!” in warning.
All three of us chased after it, hurtling over the blue line and into the neutral zone.
Bishop regained possession after the puck cycled the boards and quickly flung it to Kent, who had nothing but wide-open ice.
His shot banked right, just missing the edge of the goalie’s stick and whipping into the net.
The horn blared for a fifth time, announcing our now four-goal lead over Providence.
I looked out across the ice, blood thrumming in my veins and heart thrashing against my ribs like a mallet to a drum.
We flocked to the bench for a line shift, keeping our excitement at bay.
It wasn’t the norm to overtly celebrate during a game.
Youth hockey had trained us to leave our emotions, even the good ones, off the rink.
I grabbed my water and settled on the bench between Kent and Bishop, both stoic behind their cages.
“We’re a different team with you out there, Sebastian. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a sort of energy you bring to the ice that’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” said Kent.
Bishop grunted from beside me in agreement as Bryce and RT plopped onto the bench, the metal groaning beneath their weight. Bryce grabbed a towel and wiped it across the sweat gathered at the back of his neck.
“They’re right,” he said through panted breaths. “You’re the key to his team. It’s time everyone remembered that.”
Music to my ears.
>> <<
The first game of the season was always celebrated—win or lose—at the shared hockey house at the end of Sampson Street, which was perched on an overgrown corner lot scattered with rusty lawn chairs.
The three-story Victorian was probably glorious in its heyday, but after years of wild parties and neglect at the hands of rowdy hockey players, the place had fallen into disrepair.
The famous property was owned by an alumnus who had lived in the house during his own hockey days.
He’d imparted a list of rules that governed who could live there, ensuring that upperclassmen players got first choice in order of starting line.
Currently, the five-bedroom house was inhabited by myself and four other seniors on the team.
Initially, I’d been ecstatic to move in.
It was a rite of passage for the best hockey athletes at Dallard.
As the youngest captain in history, I was able to move in my sophomore year.
At the time, I hadn’t considered the woes of living in a house packed with strangers every other weekend—strangers who left a mess of beer and puke behind when they finally departed at two in the morning.
During my first two years on the team, I’d let myself fall into the habit of partying more than was good for me.
But after the injury, I vowed to stay away from alcohol for the sake of my future endeavors.
Tonight’s party was in full swing by ten-thirty, the place packed tight enough that it was nearly impossible to move from room to room without brushing against the sweaty arm of a stranger.
Landon had assumed the role of DJ, which meant the music was loud enough to shake the house every time the beat dropped, and the beat dropped a lot.
He was going through an EDM phase that made me regret our shared bedroom wall.
Despite the fact that I was sober, my head was pounding.
My only solace was the knowledge that eventually the party would move to the bars just a block away in downtown Trimont.
The small town didn’t have a plethora of establishments to choose from, but locals treated us hockey players like kings, giving out free drinks like candy at a parade.
Once the place finally cleared out, I’d be in bed watching a movie on my projector, but until then, I was happy to observe the flow of people coming in and out of the house from my balcony.
As an introvert, I preferred watching others mingle over partaking in the festivities.
People always revealed interesting things about themselves once they’d had a few too many.
From the safety of my perch, I could learn a lot about a person by studying their interactions, all while avoiding the uncomfortable sensation of being trapped in a crowd.
The autumn air was crisp tonight, but that hadn’t stopped the party from spilling out onto the front yard.
A cold breeze rushed over me as three girls approached the house, the sound of their laughter carried up by the wind.
The light on the front porch was just bright enough for me to make out the familiar form of Caroline Hart.
The captain of the women’s hockey team was easy to spot, her bright blond hair a dead giveaway.
That meant one of the others had to be Lydia West. The two of them were almost always together.
“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret tonight?”
The question came from the girl in the middle.
Though I could only see the top of her head, the rasp of her voice was instantly recognizable.
For a moment, I was back in DuLane, staring into a mesmerizing pair of wide brown eyes.
Although weeks had passed since our tense meeting, thoughts of her still crossed my mind on occasion.
She’d taken root in my head like a stubborn weed, determined to last through the fast-approaching winter.
“You can’t attend Dallard as a hockey player and not go to this party. It’s a rite of passage. Anyway, it’s our last weekend free before our games start. Let loose,” Caroline said.
“She’s right,” said the other girl—it was definitely Lydia. “Just avoid the basement at all costs. That floor has never not been sticky.”
I held back a snort of laughter. I wasn’t sure how many years of spilled beverages had gone into creating that mess, but there were usually a few unlucky partygoers who lost a shoe to the basement floor. One particular Adidas sneaker had lived here longer than me.
“Hey, Bryce,” Caroline said. “Congrats on the win this weekend. You absolutely crushed Providence.”
“Thanks. It was amazing,” he replied. “How come you guys didn’t have an exhibition game?”
“St. Thomas pulled out last-minute.” She sounded disappointed. “An exhibition would have been great, but I’m not too worried. Having Grace out there with us has really rounded out the team.” Caroline gestured to my mystery girl.
Grace. So that was her name.
“You used to play for Boston College, right?” Bryce asked.
I wasn’t surprised that he knew who Grace was.
His sister, who was just as skilled on the ice as he was and practically as tall, also played division one hockey.
They’d both headed for higher ground after high school, Bryce settling down here while his sister made the East Coast her new stomping grounds.
“Holy shit, are you related to Faith?”
“She’s my twin sister,” he confirmed. “She was sad to see you transfer. They won’t be the same team without you.”
I watched from my spot as they continued to chat about hockey, hanging on to every word that left Grace’s mouth.
“These are some of my roommates. Landon plays goalie and Kent is at right wing. Our other two roommates are somewhere around,” Bryce said, referring to me and Bishop.
Kent was only a few beers away from being drunk, based on the way he swayed clumsily to the beat of the music.
If anyone embodied the term dancing machine, it was him.
All he needed was a little booze to become the world’s best and most embarrassing wedding date.
Right now, he was ignoring Bryce’s introduction in favor of trying to make Caroline laugh.
At least, that’s what I assumed he was attempting, based on the movement of his arms and the awkward way he was gyrating back and forth.
Meanwhile, Landon shook Grace’s hand, overly eager to make her acquaintance. Nobody took advantage of their athlete status around campus to land hookups quite like he did. I was pretty sure he had half the dance team on speed dial at this point.
As more people arrived, it became increasingly difficult to hear more than a few random words of their conversation.
I was fighting the temptation to make my presence known, just to see how Grace would react, when Kate slipped out onto the balcony.
I’d been avoiding her for the last hour.
She still hadn’t congratulated me on our big win, and though we usually avoided the topic of hockey to keep the peace, I wanted to hear that she was proud of me.
“You can’t hide up here forever. Come on, let’s dance a little,” she suggested.
Kate’s manicured hand wrapped around my bicep, pulling me away from the railing. When she saw how reluctant I was to go, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the side of my jaw. “When everyone leaves for the bar, we’ll have this place to ourselves.”