19. Casper
Opening home game at the Sinners’ arena, my family in attendance and a packed house; a perfect combination.
The only thing that could make it better is if Mona was here, but I know management at The Schrader House couldn’t get anyone to cover the late shift tonight.
It just sucks that she wasn’t initially scheduled, but she volunteered to take it before my whole unmasking and identity reveal.
I’m not going to hold that against her. There will be so many games for her to be at.
As much as I’d love to have her in the stands, wearing my jersey, it’d be safer for the rest of the world if she was tucked away in my house.
Because it’s inevitable that some guy would hit on her or touch her, and then I’d be the bad guy because I’d beat him nearly to death.
But tonight, I don’t have to worry about that because she’ll be at work and I can focus all my energy and attention on whooping the Hurricane’s ass.
The first period whizzes by, and I swear I haven’t had this much fun playing since I joined the league.
I don’t know if it’s having Mona in my life or the two new additions to our team, Ledger and Ransom.
But I can’t keep the stupid smile off my face during the intermission and start of the second period.
The cool air whooshes around my body as I take the ice, the arena roaring around us.
Fuck, I’ve missed playing in our home, the electricity from the fans, the comfortability of our extravagant locker room, all of it.
I’ve been focusing so much on Mona, which I love every moment of, but for a split second, I forgot how fucking incredible my life was and how much I loved hockey.
Finny sets up for the face-off, but the linesman isn’t happy about something so he forces both teams to swap out. I take Finny’s place, lowering my stick as my opponent skates up.
I win the draw, dishing the puck back between my legs to Kol.
The puck smacks against his stick, and he fires it to Bates, who’s ready to break into the zone in front of me.
Their defense isn’t in position well enough to defend him, and the moment the puck reaches him, he barrels into the zone and down the slot.
With a quick draw of his stick to his right side, he flicks his wrist and nails it home.
“Fuck yeah!” I scream, following Finny toward the boards and jumping into him. “Attaboy!”
He’s grinning from ear to ear, cheering along with us. But he steals a quick glance up in the stands and blows a kiss. I don’t have to guess who that’s going to—Serena.
Finny leads the high-five line toward the bench, and we all bump gloves with the guys before the next face-off sets up at center ice, a new line skating out as we hop the boards to the bench.
Ledger takes a swig of the water, then gestures to me, and I nod, opening my mouth jokingly. But he doesn’t hesitate, squirting water into my mouth from two feet away, and I stick my tongue out slightly to help catch every drop.
“Goddamn, Cas, what else can that mouth do?” Ledger bursts out laughing.
Crooking my finger, I beckon him closer. “Come find out.”
Ledger smirks, trying to act chill, but he breaks, a laugh tearing through the air. “Nah, you look like a biter.”
I flip him off. “Well, now you’ve lost your chance.”
In reality, there was no way he was putting his sweaty fucking balls anywhere near my face. But that doesn’t mean I can’t play up the part.
Ransom leans closer to me, squishing Ledger and Bates tighter together. “Are you going over there tonight?”
“Over where—to The Schrader House? Yeah. Gotta celebrate with my girl after we finish murdering the Hurricanes.” I smirk, thoughts of what’s to come already pooling to my core. But I have to stop thinking of her, or this cup is going to get painful.
“You know that place is actually haunted, right? I looked into its history a bit more, and it got a little weird,” Ransom informs me, the curious know-it-all he is.
And he has no idea of some of the weird stuff currently happening with the house. But I can’t get into that right now with him.
“Basically, there’s a conspiracy that the Schraders participated in human sacrifices, and those are the spirits that haunt the place.”
I roll my eyes at that. “You need to stay off TikTok and social media because I don’t think they were randomly sacrificing people in the living room.”
Time runs out on our conversation because we need to swap out with the line coming off the ice. Finny takes a passing puck from Emil Barkov as he skates toward the bench, alongside his brother, who switch out with Ledger and Ransom.
Surprisingly, the Hurricanes don’t talk shit much at all. Not sure if that’s a team thing or just a we’re getting beat six to zero attitude. But usually, if a team is that far behind, they instigate like a maniac to rile their players up and to try to tie our guys up in the penalty box.
Kol steals the puck from one of their defensemen and flies down the ice on a breakaway. The only hurdle between him and the net is their goalie. Unfortunately for the goalie, we seem to be able to read him like a wide-open book.
This instance is no different. Kol glides straight down the middle, successfully baiting the goalie to the top of his crease. Kol is fast though, which means the only way you’re stopping him is by being quicker, something this guy definitely isn’t.
Kol embarrasses him with a deke, sending the guy falling to his face on the ice, and as Kol shoots it easily into the net, our fans reach an entire new level of chaos and noise as they cheer us on.
We collide into a huddle of praise for Kol before he leads us toward the bench, the score now seven to zero. This is fucking unheard of in a professional hockey game. Typical scores are under three or four—even then, that’s a higher-scored game. But seven to fucking zero is wild.
Our chance at the shutout ends early in the third period when we go on a penalty kill, and the Hurricanes manage to get one on the board. But it doesn’t matter, not in the end. I get the final goal of the night, and when the clock runs out, we finalize the score of our first home game eight to one.
I’m flying on an absolute high as we head back to the locker room after demolishing our opponent. They played fairly well last year. They’re still on the recovery of a complete overhaul, but, shit, if this is the new dream team, they might want to reconsider overhauling it again.
It doesn’t matter if they do it immediately, and it won’t matter in the end because we’re going to dominate this entire season. This was just the warm-up.
Our arena is the most up-to-date in the league. The place is huge and one hundred percent dedicated to the Sinners team. It’s not rented out for events or concerts. It’s ours. No wonder we’re so possessive. We hate sharing anything.
“Great last shot, Rids.” Coach Rafferty claps my back as I walk past him into the locker room. He continues to hand out earned compliments as we file in, shedding our sweaters and gear.
He gives us a proud speech before leaving us to our own devices, and the first thing I do is run to the shower and clean off, not leaving until I’m sure soap has thoroughly infiltrated every crevice of my body.
My steps are light as a feather as I saunter back over to my cubby and dry off, changing into a matching Sinners sweat set.
Now, finally, it’s time for the part I’ve been waiting for. I check my phone for messages from Mona.
There’s a reason I waited to see if she texted or called, and that’s because I’m self-aware enough to know that the second I saw it, I’d ignore all other responsibilities.
My screen lights up, and my heart turns to stone, my stomach plummeting to the floor. Shit.
I have fifty-three messages and twenty-seven missed calls from Mona; the most recent one is less than a minute old, and the oldest was ten minutes ago. I scroll to the top of the new messages, reading them as fast as I can, my heart rolling up into the back of my throat.
My Mona: Casper, you little tease. I can’t believe you got done early
My Mona: I’m on my way to find you
My Mona: I missed you
A few minutes later.
My Mona: Where are you? I’m on the main level by the front door. What is this? A reverse chase from the matchmaking party?
My Mona: You’re starting to scare me
My Mona: Please just come out
Missed call.
My Mona: This isn’t funny anymore, Casper.
My Mona: I’m going outside. I can’t stay in here. Come talk on the porch
My Mona: Why aren’t you answering me?
My Mona: Casper?
My Mona: Hello?
A minute later, three missed calls.
My Mona: Are you still at the rink?
My Mona: Casper, please answer me! Or come out of the shadows. I’m hiding by the pumpkins because I’m so fucking scared
My Mona: I hear your footsteps
My Mona: Ghostface
My Mona: Ghostface
My Mona: GHOSTFACE!!!
My Mona: THERE, I USED IT. NOW PLEASE STOP
A minute later, four more missed calls.
My Mona: Please stop
My Mona: Oh my God
My Mona: Someone’s here
My Mona: Outside, walking across the deck toward the stairs
Three more missed calls.
My Mona: It’s not you, is it?
My Mona: Casper, please answer me
My Mona: I’m going to call the police if you don’t stop
My Mona: I’m so serious
My Mona: This isn’t a joke anymore!
Two more missed calls.
My Mona: Cas, please hurry
One missed call. One voicemail.
I’m grabbing my keys, turning on my heel and storming out of the locker room while I lift my phone to my ear, listening to the voicemail.
Pure terror rings true in her voice, and it sounds like the phone is far away, only giving me a few clear words every sentence.
“Just … calm … don’t … okay … stop—” She screams, the bloodcurdling agony slicing through the phone and straight through my heart. “Please!”
Footsteps pound on the ground, like someone running into weeds or … corn. She’s in the corn maze.
Fuck!
My legs are moving as fast as they can as I race toward the parking garage. It isn’t until my passenger door opens and Kol slides into the seat as I start the engine that I realize I’m not alone.
I don’t say a word as I throw my car in drive and peel out of the garage, Bates’s pickup right on my tail. My knuckles are white as bone as I grip my steering wheel for dear life.
She’s fine. She’s totally fine. And if anything, whoever this is should be fearing for their life once she remembers how strong and brave she is.
Please be okay.
I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to her, if a hair on her head was misplaced. She is fucking everything to me, and I can’t live without her. As dramatic as that sounds, I mean it.
An idea appears in my mind, and I throw my phone at Kol, ordering him to, “Open my surveillance app. Find the backyard. Mona called, and I think someone’s trying to hurt her.”
I zip onto the freeway, Bates still behind me, and I speed, weaving through the cars, racing to her.
Kol clears his throat, anxiously searching through my phone. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get to her.”
“Fuck!” I smack my hand on the wheel as a call comes through my Bluetooth—Finny. “Hello?”
“What’re we walking into?” he asks, not bothering to wonder what the anger and panic is for or if flying down the freeway at a hundred miles an hour is worth it. He just shows up, ready to back me.
I fill him in, giving a bit more detail than I gave Kol. Not by choice. I just couldn’t get the damn words to stop.
“I’m going to kill whoever is doing this,” I grind out, taking the exit.
“Well, we can afford the bail,” Kol remarks without hesitation. “But that’s what we’re here for—to help you and make sure you don’t spend the rest of your life in prison.”
“Should we call the cops?” Bates asks. “Or do we want to handle this ourselves?”
I do. I want to make sure that whoever is after her never has the opportunity to do it again. But I also know that having the police there will bring an ambulance faster than I can drive her if she needs one. I’d rather the fuckrag live than for her to suffer.
“Call them.”
Ledger’s voice cuts through the speakers, riding with Bates in his pickup. “On it.”
Please be okay, baby.