Chapter Seven
Rip
Sebastian leaned against the locker next to mine as we were suiting up for the pregame skate. “How was your dinner with Adrian the other night?”
My head emerged from the top of my jersey. “Fine, why?”
He showed me his phone. “I have all of us tagged on social media, and this popped up.”
I took the phone and squinted at it. Adrian’s blond head appeared in the corner of a few pictures. “Yeah, this delivery kid wanted some pictures. What’s the big deal?”
“Nothing. Just curious why all of a sudden you’re hanging out with him so much.”
With a sigh, I sat on the bench. “I feel for him. Guy wants to be a reporter, and he’s got a little stage fright. I’m trying to help him overcome it.” The filthy dreams I had of the two of us were my secret. No one needed to know about that.
“You sure that’s it?”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I growled, but Seb simply laughed in my face. Bastard.
“Don’t get tough with me, big guy. I’m just saying that maybe you should think about getting out there again. Dating.”
“No way. Not during the season. My focus has to be on winning the games, not hooking up. I’m thirty-six, Seb.
Who knows how long I’ve got left before the Blades replace me?
You know if they’re not looking now, they will be if we don’t get the Cup this year.
Plus, Lindstrom’s a good center. More than good.
And he’s young and hungry to make a name for himself with the team.
Something he can’t do as long as I’m still the captain and center.
” My hand curled into a fist. “I want that Cup.”
“I do too. But you understand you can have both.”
“Get off my back, please.” I put on the rest of my pads and picked up my stick. “Ready?”
One of the guards came in—with Adrian behind him. I grinned, seeing him wearing the jersey I’d given him. “Adrian.”
“Lie to me all you want, but not to yourself,” Seb murmured. “You want him.”
Ignoring him, I waved them over. “Hey, Jerrold. It’s okay. He’s with me.”
Giving me a nod, Jerrold stepped aside, allowing Adrian to come through. A nervous smile rested on his lips.
“You said it was fine to come for the game tonight, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I reassured him. “You remember Seb?”
“Yes, hi.”
“Hey, how’s it going? Rip tells me you’re sitting with the team tonight?”
He nodded. “Uh, yeah. Rob sent a cameraman with me. Is that okay?”
I hadn’t planned on that, but I was sure it wouldn’t matter. “You won’t be broadcasting live, correct? Some of the guys’ language can get raunchy, and I’m sure your station manager wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“No, he’ll do the cuts in production before the eleven o’clock news.”
“So we meet again, mon ami.” Denis’s loud voice made Adrian jump. “What? Don’t tell me I make you nervous?” He laughed, and I had visions of punching him in his perfect face. Denis would flirt with a puppy if it got him attention.
“Go away, Denis. Adrian is a reporter for Channel 8 News. He’s sitting with the team tonight.”
“Is he now? How sweet. Maybe he and I should talk. I can tell him all your little secrets.” He flung an arm around Adrian’s neck, sending him staggering into his chest, and I gripped my stick.
“Get your fucking hands off him.”
Denis’s eyes gleamed. “So protective of your reporter, mon amour.” He removed his arm, but I didn’t miss his fingers trailing across Adrian’s nape, nor Adrian’s shiver. There was no denying Denis was a sexy bastard, and the thought of Adrian falling prey to his seduction made my blood boil.
“Your fiancé scored a nice goal last night, Denis,” I sniped, watching his lips thin. “You must be proud he’s leading the Icers so far.”
“Yes, he’s first in many ways. My heart being the most important.”
Adrian’s gaze ping-ponged between us, and deciding I needed to end this ridiculous pissing match, I lifted my stick. “Follow me, Adrian. Let’s get you seated.”
I’d spoken to Coach about Adrian sitting with the team and he’d agreed, but he didn’t look too happy when I informed him of the cameraman’s appearance.
“He’s not to film me or any of the other coaches. I don’t need other teams stealing our plays.”
“Of course, understood.”
“And next time, check with me first before making promises to friends.” His glare of disapproval got my ire up.
“He’s with the sports department of Channel 8, I told you. It’s nothing personal.”
I got Adrian settled, and John, his cameraman, set up his equipment.
“This is cool. I’ve got great angles here. I never had this point of view.”
“Don’t count on a second chance if you screw up. Remember what I said,” I warned. “No filming the coaches. Strictly the plays on the ice and the penalty box. Anything else, and your station will be banned from the locker room. I’m sure your sports director doesn’t want that.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” John said, brushing me off, but Adrian took my words more seriously.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure of it.”
We took to the ice, and the Lakes came after us with everything they had.
Especially me. They’d already lost the three earlier games in the season and needed to save face, so they figured smashing mine would help them somehow.
I’d been elbowed, tripped, and pushed to the ice.
I gave as good as I got, and the refs were kept busy handing out penalties.
In the third period and after my second major fight where I was hooked but no penalty called, I made my feelings known to Dave Hicks, the closest ref. “You gonna let them do this crap with no repercussions? That’s some BS.”
“Watch it, Tremaine,” he sneered. “Don’t be such a snowflake.”
Chilled by his tone, I skated in front of him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Step back, Tremaine,” Hicks warned, standing his ground with a glare. “I’m warning you.”
I smacked my stick on the ice, and he threw out his fist. “That’s it. In the box. Ten minutes.”
“What the fuck?” I seethed.
“You want more? I can have you tossed out completely.”
By this time, Coach was yelling and the fans in the arena were booing.
I knew if I lost my cool, he’d do as promised.
I’d heard the rumors about Hicks and how he wasn’t a fan of the league’s stance on embracing their gay hockey players.
In fact, during Pride, he was one of the few refs not to have a rainbow pin on his shirt, and he failed to attend any of the pregame Pride ceremonies.
Without another word, I skated to the box. Coach sent in Lindstrom as center. He was in his second year and a great backup—big, strong, and fast as hell.
“Sorry, Rip. Ref sucks.” Lindstrom took off to center ice, and the fans erupted in cheers while I sat.
“Son of a bitch. He had no right to take me out. Bastard,” I mumbled to myself, caught the camera pointed my way, and shut the hell up.
Adrian stared at me, wide-eyed and…fearful.
Damn. Was he scared? Of me? I forced my lips to turn upward, hoping to reassure him, but inside I fumed as Lindy scored the go-ahead goal.
Still, I kept my game face on. This wasn’t about me and my ego. It was about winning.
With my penalty finished, I returned to cheering fans.
The Lakes rushed every puck toward the goal, and I had to admit Denis was on top of his game as he fended off multiple shots.
They crashed the net, tried to draw Denis into the crease, but he was too canny for that and held them off.
We battled until the last possible minute and came out on top.
Fans cheered and we hugged it out, but I wasn’t happy. I’d allowed my personal life to bleed into my playing. I should’ve let what Hicks said slide and been the professional.
Adrian waited for me outside the locker room. “Are you okay?”
His concern was sweet. “Yeah, of course. Just another day in the life.”
“What did he say that got you so upset?”
“He—” I’d almost forgotten the cameraman, who stood against the wall, several feet away from us, but still recording our conversation.
Last thing I needed was to say something negative about the referees.
I’d end up a target. “Nah. It was nothing important. I should’ve kept my cool. Penalties are part of the game.”
“I guess, but you looked angry.”
“I’m always angry when I gotta sit in the box.” I lowered my voice. “I’ll change, and we’ll have dinner, okay?”
“Oh…I didn’t know. Uh, sure.” Pink-faced, his demeanor was nervous, yet I could see the glimmer of desire in his eyes and knew it matched my own. It was going to be a true test of wills to keep away from him.
“Good. Now come inside the locker room and get some good bites for the broadcast.” Knowing John the cameraman had no issues, I beckoned to him. “Follow me.”
Behind me I could hear John murmur to Adrian, “Make sure you talk to a bunch of the players.”
“I know, I know. I will.”
The room was hopping, and when Adrian walked in, the guys began mugging for the camera.
Adrian swallowed hard and thrust the mic into Lindstrom’s face. “H-how did it feel to score the game-winning goal?”
“Awesome, but I didn’t like what they did to Rip.”
“Nah, no problem, man. You aced it.” We high-fived.
With approval, I watched as Adrian carefully approached Peter, who flashed him a big smile. Adrian cleared his throat.
“What’s next for the Blades?”
“Hopefully another win. But seriously, we’re playing great, and I’m feeling good.”
“If you win the division, it’s home-ice advantage for the playoffs, right? How big of an advantage is that?”
“It’s huge. Our fans are the best, and it’s always important to start the playoffs here, in Blades Arena.”
“Good luck,” Adrian called out.
“Thanks, dude.”
Seb leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You have to stop watching Adrian like you need to protect him. Let him make it on his own.”
I tried, but I couldn’t pull myself away. I knew Adrian, and he needed to see that I was there.
Adrian glanced around the room and when he met my eyes, I gave him an encouraging nod. He returned it and headed toward me, but his way was blocked by Denis.