Chapter 24
Phoenixes
Lenzin
The ice feels different now, and I know it isn’t, not really.
It’s the same rink, same boards, same blue lines I’ve crossed a thousand times.
But when I step onto it and glance up toward the Fairfax Media box, I don’t see the fanfare of it, or my teammates women.
I see Lucy’s hands pressed to the glass.
I see Hildy standing, her hand unconsciously resting over her stomach.
I see Anna, my oldest friend, supporting them and me.
That changes everything about this game for me. Before, the ice was mine. A place I controlled. Measured. Dominated. Now it feels like it’s theirs too, and I love that I can share it with them.
“You good?” Kilovac asks.
“Never been better,” I answer, and I mean it too.
“Good.”
Our first shift is brutal, and as we come in, Deacon looks at Kilovac. “How are you feeling?”
“Like we need to win.” He states.
“Reznik has been circling all night. You good?” he asks.
Daniil Reznik, right wingman. #27. Excellent player. Huge fanbase. He’s fast, smart, not reckless, and he’s been talking shit. Not to me, to Aleks. Reznik’s Ukrainian. Shouldn’t matter on the ice, but apparently, it’s spilling over.
“I’ve heard worse from my own father,” Kilovac says before taking a swig from his water bottle. “It’s fine.”
I look up to the box as I take a drink and see Lucy jumping up and down, and give her a little wave.
“She thinks you can hear her,” Kilovac states.
“Fucking adorable.” I nod.
We’re 1-1, midway through the second, and Reznik has not let up, and neither has Kilovac. Aleks finishes a clean check along the boards. Shoulder to chest, perfect angle, nothing dirty at all.
Reznik pops up and immediately shoves him. Aleks has had enough and shoves back.
Reznik says something again, and Aleks’ jaw tightens.
That’s his tell when he has had enough.
Gloves drop, the arena detonates, and Reznik swings first. It’s a quick right, and I know Aleks could have stopped him, but he didn’t.
“Fuck,” I snarl as I head that way at first contact.
Aleks swings back, and they lock up, spinning, blades carving deep crescents into the ice.
I slide in only when Reznik yanks Aleks off balance too hard, driving him backward toward the boards.
I grab Reznik’s shoulder to break it up.
He turns and throws without looking, and his knuckles catch my jaw. The taste of iron hits instantly.
Fuck it, I think as I drop my gloves. If I’m in it, I’m in it.
I hook his jersey, pull him clean off Aleks. Now he squares to me, and he doesn’t hesitate. He’s not dirty, he’s emotional, which is sometimes worse.
He swings fast, and I take it. I slip the second and answer with short shots, controlled and measured.
We go down together and fuck that ice hits hard. Both teams pile in, whistles scream around us, and we are separated.
Reznik is breathing hard, eyes locked on mine, his look isn’t hatred, it’s a challenge.
Good.
In the box, Aleks sits beside me. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did,” I answer.
It’s simple, we don’t let each other take it alone if we can help it, never have.
I glance up toward the Fairfax box and see Lucy pressed to the glass with wide-eyed concern, and I give her a thumbs-up.
Anna is standing behind her, shaking her head, and I scan the glass to find Hildy is seated, hand over her stomach, and I can’t figure out what she’s thinking.
“Don’t do that, Faulker,” Aleks warns.
“Do what?” I ask.
“It will fuck with your game.”
“You don’t know—”
“I know you’re worried she thinks you lose your temper, then you play lighter. She knows this is your job, so get that out of your head, now.” He turns and smirks, just briefly, then looks up at Sofie, who is fanning herself. “Might want to go harder.”
Back on the ice, Reznik lines up across from me and nods once. I nod back. Respect.
The horn sounds, and I hate the sound of it, especially when we’re tied 2-2.
“We are number one in the league. We do not tie teams below us, especially at home.” Coach D yells. “Stone, Koa, Faulker, you’re our three, now go finish this.”
I glance at Bass, Evan, who would normally be out there in a 3-on-3, and Kilovac, because when she does put in a D man, he’s the one who goes.
“Faulker,” she snaps. “Go.”
Skating out, I look at Koa and Stone, and Stone chuckles. “Don’t overthink it, man, let’s just do this.”
The puck drops, Koa wins the draw clean, Stone circles wide left, dragging their defenseman with him. I cut right, slow at first, then accelerate through the neutral zone.
Reznik shadows me immediately.
Three-on-three is chess at high speed. I forgot how much I loved it.
We cycle once. Stone to Koa. Koa returns to Stone. They’re baiting the stretch. I hang back deliberately, not driving yet.
Reznik glides near me, watching, waiting.
“Finish it,” Stone mutters as he wheels behind the net.
He slips it to Koa at the half wall. Koa draws the defender hard, fakes high, then slides it back to me at the blue line.
Space. Too much space. But I don’t hesitate. I fake a slap shot. Reznik lunges. Checkmate.
I pull it inside, cut through the top of the circle, drive center ice, eyes on the goalie who squares up, but I see it.
I pull it across my body one more time, forcing the goalie to shift. Backhand. Quick and low.
The puck slides under his pad and taps the inside of the net.
There’s a split second where everything goes silent, before the red light explodes, and the horn screams. This time, I love the sound of it.
Stone is on me first. Koa slams into both of us.
The arena detonates.
I don’t raise my arms, I look up and see Lucy jumping up and down, both arms in the air, and I worry about her smacking herself or Hildy, who is jumping up and down with her, Anna beside them.
Lucy runs into my legs before I even see her coming.
“You punched him!” she whispers into my legs, like it’s magic.
I crouch down to eye level. “We don’t celebrate the bad parts.”
“But you won.”
I can’t help but laugh as I scoop her up and stand, “We’d have won without the fight.”
Hildy walks up, and I kiss her temple.
“You okay?” she asks softly, her eyes dark and heated.
Fuck yeah. Fuck. Yeah. My woman likes hockey.
“Yes,” I answer, kissing her forehead.
“Family photo for Lucy’s first game,” Anna says and points.
We take photos, Lucy in my arms, Hildy at my side.
“Meet you at home after a quick shower?” I ask when we’re finished.
“You have Icehouse,” she states. “A toast.”
“I’d rather—”
This time, she leans in, pushes up on her toes, and kisses my cheek, “Stick to your routine. I’ll see you when you get home.”
I’ll see you…
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink, and she blushes.
After showers, I dress quickly, wanting to get there and get home. When I pick up my phone, I see three missed calls.
From Hildy.
My stomach tightens.
There’s a text beneath it.
Scotti:
There’s been an incident outside. Chicago Phoenix fans confronted Anna. Security intervened, but a physical altercation ensued. She is en route to Methodist Hospital. Hildy is with her.
I slam my locker shut.
Aleks sees my face immediately and asks, “What?”
“Anna.” He grabs his phone and is right beside me when I exit.
“What happened?”
“Fans. I assume Chicago since she was wearing our numbers.”
His jaw tightens, and his phone rings, “Hello.” Pause. “Okay. I’ll let him know.” Pause. “Of course. Love you, see you soon.” He shoves his phone in his pocket. “Sofie’s got Lucy and is headed back to your place.”
We move down the corridor faster, and Deacon catches up, Hank too.
“You mind getting back to the house and making sure Lucy is—”
Hank cuts me off, “OMW.”
“OMW?” I ask.
“Means on my way,” Koa says. “She’s got the girls and us.”
I push the doors open, and security yells after me, “We’ve got it handled.”
“Clearly fucking not!”
Deacon’s ride comes to a hard stop, and he rolls the window down, “Get in.”
After the door is shut behind me, I text Hildy.
Me
On my way.
The response comes almost immediately.
Hildy
We’re okay. She has a concussion and a small cut above her eye. Don’t speed.
Don’t speed.
I don’t respond to that in text; I call her, and she answers on the first ring.
“She’s awake,” she says immediately.
“Talk to me.”
“They followed her from the tunnel. Said something about Reznik, about Russians, about tonight. She told them to back off. One grabbed her arm. She shoved him. He pushed back. Security broke it up before it got worse.”
Anger boils inside me. “Lucy?”
“She’s okay. Anna,” she pauses and sniffs. “Anna pushed that man to keep him back. The girls,” She clears her throat, “took care of her. I don’t think she saw, God I hope she—”
“I hope she didn’t see either, but if she did, we will make sure she’s okay. She will be okay. I’m five minutes out. See you soon.”
“See you soon,” she repeats and hangs up.
We’re about ready to pull out of the parking lot when the rear passenger door opens and…fucking Reznik slides in.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Aleks says, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“I’m going too,” he states.
Deacon hits the gas.
“Fuck no, pull over,” I snarl.
“I did not ask for anyone to be harmed.” He frowns.
“I don’t give a fu—”
“You fucked up.” Aleks cuts me off and yells at him. “You —
“I do not like you,” he snaps back. “But I did not promote violence off—.”
“You’re a piece of shit.” I laugh in anger.
Reznik’s jaw tightens.
“Careful,” Deacon warns
I do not heed his warning. “Just like the fans you brought with you.”
His eyes sharpen, “That has nothing to do with me.”
“You stirred it.”
“I fought on the ice.”
“And threw fuel on the fire.” Aleks shakes his head. “Your fans followed your lead.”
“You don’t get to put that on me.” He snarls
“You don’t get to believe that your words don’t carry anymore,” Deacon says calmly. “Not after this.”
“I have made a statement.”
“Statements don’t mean shit when you’re calling me a fucking—”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Deacon cuts Aleks off.
“I will make this right,” Reznik says quietly.
The automatic doors slide open too slowly as the four of us enter the ER. A nurse spots us and waves us to another set of doors. “She’s in three.”
We head in, and when I turn the corner, Hildy is standing there, and I see a thin red scratch along her cheekbone. I take her face gently in my hands and tilt it up. “What happened?”
She exhales. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Someone grabbed me when I stepped between them.”
“Between them?” My jaw tightens.
Hildy nods toward the curtain. “Go see Anna.”
I take her hand, and we head in. Anna’s hair is pulled back. Blood cleaned away. But there’s a neat line of stitches just above her eyebrow, curving toward her temple.
Her jersey is folded on the chair beside her, glass dust still clinging to it.
She rolls her eyes when she sees me. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“What face?” I ask.
“The one that says you’re going to do something that will get your Visa revoked.”
I step closer. “Tell me.”
She shrugs like it’s minor. “Beer bottle.”
My stomach drops. “Thrown?”
“Yes.”
“Shattered?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?” I ask through my teeth.
She studies me and jokes. “Because I was wearing the jersey and you beat up an angry Ukrainian sticking up for your boyfriend.”
“He didn’t beat me up,” Reznik says.
As Aleks says, “Stop saying shit like that, Anna.”
“And security?”
“Was there,” Hildy says from beside me. “But it happened fast.”
Anna leans back slightly.
“It clipped the railing and shattered. I caught enough of it to need stitches.”
I stare at the neat black thread in her skin.
“How many?”
“Six,” she says. “I asked.”
Of course she did. “You’re concussed?”
“No.” She lies.
“You are too.” Hildy scolds her.
“Dizzy?” I continue.
“No.”
“Vision.”
“Clear.” She smirks slightly. “You done with the checklist, doctor?”
I don’t smile, I step closer, and lower my voice. “I should have walked you three out.”
Anna’s expression softens. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No, this is not on you,” she repeats, then looks beyond me.
“Deacon and Aleks,” I answer.
Reznick steps around me, “And me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Anna states, and he lowers his head.
I turn back to Hildy. “Who grabbed you?”
“I don’t know,” she says gently. “It was crowded.”
Her hand rests unconsciously over her stomach. “We’re all fine, and Lenzin, this wasn’t Reznik’s fault.”
“I will make this right,” Reznick states.