Chapter 6
DENALI
BECAUSE I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING
I took my place in front of the rink, the team filling up the bleachers, pushing each other for the spots closest to where we’d be speaking. Elijah slid into a seat a little ways away from everybody and I didn’t miss that Zariah slipped into the one next to him.
I couldn’t believe she’d reprimanded me for how I talked to Montoya. Didn’t she know what he’d done?
A hand stroked my face and I shoved it away, muttering under my breath. Of course it was Nick.
He threw a grin. “Damn, sexy. You don’t look like a deadbeat dad who lost his custody case anymore.”
“Shut up.”
Nick Kurosawa was one of the best players on the team, and the kind of asshole who liked to get a rise out of people. Everyone knew him as a professional player in the ‘fucking around with other players’ girlfriends’ kind of way. I had to reprimand him for DMing players’ moms during the summer.
It wasn’t just Nick with the comments. The guys had been teasing me about the cut since the moment I walked into the locker room. They kept patting my face. It’d been funny before, but now Zariah was here and it wasn’t funny anymore.
“So what is it?” Nick called. “Are you starting at ground zero?”
My eyes slid to Zariah again, deep in conversation with Elijah. The truth was this wasn’t a one-off cut. I scheduled an appointment with a barbershop yesterday and ordered a new trimmer and beard oil.
Beard oil. Who am I?
I just couldn’t forget that Zariah called me scraggly.
Sémajuste took his place next to me. “Gladiators, I need everyone’s attention. So if you have any final thoughts for Denali, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He threw an amused smile my way. “It looks much more professional.”
“Captain, do a twirl!”
“Is the new name Mr. Pretty Boy?”
“I’ll protect you from the cougars, Captain!”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, ears burning. How could they do this in front of her?
“I think it looks nice,” Montoya said before the rest of the team groaned and he fell silent.
“That was your last chance to say something about the beard,” Coach warned.
“Now leave your captain alone." He motioned for Cleo to step forward, letting us take the stage.
"Cleo and Denali have taken the initiative and contacted colleges outside of our conference to see about an exhibition game before the season.”
Surprise rippled through the crowd. Montoya’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “We’re playing early?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Wasn’t that what Sémajuste just said?
Coach gestured for me to continue, and I took another look at the clipboard in my hands. The words swam a little. I shouldn’t have worn my contacts for so long today, but this was a group session, and I didn’t want the guys to see me in my glasses. I looked like a fucking nerd in them.
I narrowed my eyes until the letters adjusted. “Selick Georgia University has agreed to host us for a game the last week of September. It’ll be a two-night trip, a tight turnaround, but this is a great opportunity to get the hype up before the season begins. Atlanta’s supposed to be—”
“Atlanta?” Zariah repeated, loud enough to carry over the crowd. There was clear interest in her voice. “You’re going to Atlanta?”
My teammates perked up. Everybody craned their necks to glance her way.
“Sorry,” Zariah muttered, keeping her eyes on me, waiting for me to continue.
Did Zariah want to go to Atlanta?
Nothing Elijah said ever suggested that. But he and I never talked about his sister, we didn’t have the time for stuff like that.
Why was she interested in Atlanta?
“Denali?” Coach muttered.
My focus snapped to him. “Sorry. Uh—Selick Georgia is a private school with a hockey team that hasn’t placed above sixth in its own conference for years.”
“Ahhh, a challenge,” Nick chortled.
“And the Gladiators haven’t won their first game ever,” I announced. “We’ll break that streak in Georgia and then we’ll really break it when we win the Gulf Coast Cup.”
The guys exchanged grins, excitement thick in the air. More than eighty percent of our team was transfers. Plenty of us had been rivals before the Gladiators, never playing on the same side. I couldn’t help but grin back at them, it was infectious. It felt so good for Zariah to see this side of us.
After discussing our schedule, the team was dismissed. I headed for the locker rooms but Sémajuste pulled me aside. “You’re doing well.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Who’s the new girl?” He frowned. “Is she somebody’s girlfriend or something?”
I shook my head. “She’s—uh—”
“Heading towards us,” Sémajuste completed and I glanced over my shoulder to see Zariah speed-walking our way.
She swept her curls over her shoulders, her face clear and composed, literally no hesitation. My chest tightened when she came close.
“Hi. Anthony Sémajuste,” Zariah said his name with an air of reverence, which made sense.
During his hockey-playing years, Sémajuste suffered a severe spine injury and returned to the pros to finish with his career-best after rehab.
In the hockey world, his story was pretty well-known.
She smiled. “I’m Elijah’s sister, Zariah. ”
He made a noise of recognition, taking her hand for a handshake. “Elijah’s twin. Do you play hockey too?”
“No—”
“She used to,” I said and Zariah stiffened.
“You played hockey?” Cleo interrupted, coming close.
“No…” Zariah hesitated. “Barely.”
“Maybe she wasn’t addicted to the game but she’s a great skater,” I said. “Very lithe. Very fast.”
“I don’t play hockey, I haven’t put on skates in years—” She turned away from me, shutting me out. “But I won’t pass up on a trip to Atlanta.”
Sémajuste arched an eyebrow. “Trip to Atlanta?”
I knew where Zariah was going with this. She wanted to travel with us to be there for Elijah, but she didn’t need to be. It was a two-day turnaround. I’d bunk with him, we’d be together for the trip.
If she knew I could keep him out of trouble, I could make up for the embarrassing conversation earlier.
I stepped forward. “Zariah, you don’t need to go.”
“Denali, I’m not asking you—”
“I have it taken care of.”
“I’m asking your coach.”
“You don’t need to—”
“Once again, not talking to you,” she replied, irritated.
“I’ll keep track of—”
“Denali,” she snapped
“Zariah—”
“Do you like rollercoasters?”
I blinked, surprised. “I—yeah?”
“Why don’t you try hopping on one of those instead of riding my ass?”
I didn’t realize how big our audience had gotten until a dozen of my teammates burst into laughter. Sémajuste snorted and quickly covered it up while I stared, a flush creeping up my neck.
Fuck. I didn’t fix things at all, I just made them worse. Again.
“She can room with me, sir,” Cleo offered.
Fully intent on ignoring me, Zariah focused on my coach again. “I’ll offer up any services. I’m great with a camera, I can sell jerseys, I’ll hose down the bus. Whatever you need, whatever you want.”
“Do you usually go on hockey trips?” Sémajuste asked, genuinely curious.
“The last coach didn’t care.” She shrugged. “But he’s in prison now so I wanted to ask the new leadership.”
“The bus’ll be cramped,” he said.
“Isn’t that the best kind of travel? So cozy.”
“The hotel isn’t the nicest.”
“It’s a place to sleep. That’s all I care about.”
Coach’s lips twitched for a smile. “I suppose we have an extra seat on the bus.”
I couldn’t believe it. As easy as that, Zariah was coming to Atlanta for our first hockey game. I watched, dazed, while she walked away with Elijah.
How did that happen?
Why did she want to go to Atlanta so badly?
Sémajuste chuckled. “Where were you and Elijah hiding her?”
I didn’t respond because I didn’t have a response that made sense. I just headed to the locker room.
Zariah and I would be in the same hotel together. I’d have to be around her and pretend like that didn’t mean anything. Which would be easy—it had to be. I had other things on my plate. My career, my team’s dynamics, the championship.
My ex-girlfriend wasn’t part of that. She didn’t want to be.
Montoya approached me. “Captain?”
Resisting the urge to bypass him, I stopped. “What?”
“Uh, I was wondering if—um—you and Coach talked about the line-up and…?”
I glanced towards the rink, but Coach was already surrounded by his assistants. Why couldn’t Montoya ask him about this? It wasn’t only me deciding things. It was a group decision, operations staff included.
“You’ll be on the last shift.” I moved for the locker room again, finished with the conversation. “If you get to play.”
“If I get to play?” Montoya repeated, his voice small.
“A lot of things depend on that, Montoya.”
“I’m a grocery stick?”
I grabbed my bag out of my locker and swung it over my shoulder. The grocery sticks were the dividers on the conveyor belts to separate peoples’ grocery orders. We used it as a nickname for the hockey players who sat between the defense and offense during the game, basically benchwarmers.
It was something that was new for Montoya but something he’d have to get used to.
When I’d first signed on to Marrs, I’d been optimistic about Caleb Montoya, even if I knew about his accident.
During his last high school game…well, there was a reason Montoya never made it to the pros.
Ever since then, he couldn’t hit anymore.
Couldn’t throw a punch or stand up for himself in the rink.
Those are essential skills in hockey. Without them, you’re relying double-time on your teammates to pick up the slack for you. Why was everyone else expected to overcompensate for him?
If it was just that, I could move past it. Every team has their benchwarmers. Whatever. But there was another reason I didn’t like Montoya. A more personal reason that I couldn’t ignore.
I left the locker room. “We all decided it, Montoya.”
At the archway, I almost ran into Elijah and Zariah. Elijah shook his head, mumbling about the bag he forgot, but I watched Zariah as she buzzed inside after him.
She was so different. My heart thumped as I stole one last look at her before she disappeared.
“Oh,” Montoya whispered.
The kid’s eyes were bright, sliding between me and the empty archway to the locker room, like he’d figured out a puzzle.
I frowned. “What?”
“I didn’t see anything,” he said quickly.
“See what?”
“Nothing.”
We stared at each other. Montoya tried a reassuring smile, but it was so awkward. I didn’t know what the hell he was nervously smiling about. I frowned, leaving him behind. “Okay?”
“It’s nothing,” he repeated behind me. “Because I didn’t see anything!”