23. Ethan
23
ETHAN
T he game is a blur of ice and sweat. I don't know if the stars have aligned or some shit or someone gave the Wolves voodoo doll a break, but we are on fucking fire tonight. It's been a long time coming. The noise of the crowd fades into the background as I focus on the puck, my heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the game. Liam shouts something at Noah, and I catch a flash of blonde hair as Noah takes off down the ice.
"Liam, right wing!" I call out, and Liam’s eyes lock with mine for a split second. There's no hesitation in his nod.
We move like a well-oiled machine, weaving through the defense. Noah’s got the puck, darting left and right like a damn magician. He passes it to me, and I see the opening.
“Go for it!” Liam yells from behind.
I push forward, adrenaline surging through me. My stick meets the puck, sending it flying past the goalie’s glove. The red light blares as the puck hits the back of the net. Goal.
The arena erupts in cheers. I turn to see Liam barreling toward me, a grin splitting his face.
“Hell yeah, Reynolds!” he shouts, clapping me on the back.
Noah skates over, his boyish grin lighting up his face. “That was smooth as hell, man.”
"The drought is over!" I shout.
We form a huddle, helmets clashing in celebration. For once, there’s no tension between us—just pure exhilaration.
In the locker room, the air is thick with post-game adrenaline and the sharp tang of sweat. Damn, it's been a while since this locker room hasn't been like a graveyard, it's nice. I strip off my gear, tossing it into my bag. Liam and Noah are across the room, talking in low voices.
"I just don't know, man," Liam says, running a hand through his damp hair. "Olivia's been distant lately. Ever since... well, you know."
"Yeah," Noah replies, his tone equally frustrated. "It's like she’s pulling away from all of us."
I pause, pretending to adjust my skates. Their words hit me harder than I expected. Olivia’s been on my mind too, but I’ve kept my distance, afraid of getting too close and fucking things up like I always do.
Liam starts, "I mean what do we do? Talk to her? We can't exactly force her to be around us."
Without thinking, I stand and stride over to them. They both look up, surprised by my sudden approach.
"Hey," I start, my voice gruff but steady. "What about Olivia?"
Liam narrows his eyes as Noah crosses his arms in defiance.
"Noah here thinks he saw Olivia sitting in the stands." Liam says.
"Why would she be in the stands? And why did she not bothering coming down here to celebrate?" I ask suspiciously.
"That's what we're trying to figure out captain obvious." Noah says with an eye roll.
"Are you even sure it was her?" I question.
"Pretty damn sure," he says with a nod. "What better explanation as to why we miraculously played like professionals tonight."
Liam stands there dumbfounded. As much as I hate to admit it, there could be some truth behind Noah's words.
"If that's the case, and Olivia is some bizzare fucking good luck charm, then I think the best thing for us all to do is to be honest here," I say, feeling the weight of my words, "and make every attempt to get back in her good graces. That means all of us."
Noah's eyes widen a fraction, and Liam's jaw tightens.
"All of us?" Liam asks with a grunt.
"Easy boy, let's not get all territorial now," I say, standing my ground.
Noah shifts, scratching his head. "So what you're saying is, this hasn't been a bizzare love triangle, but a love… rectangle?"
"Jesus man, do you ever get any ass with those lines?" I say with a face palm.
"Well, I mean it worked for Olivia…" he starts meekly.
"Shut the fuck up Noah. Some things are better left unsaid." Liam grunts out.
"I’m not saying this to start shit," I add quickly. "But we have to figure something out, we just got things to mesh again and we can't afford to fuck it up."
"Yeah," Liam says.
"Agree." Noah adds.
I stand there, my decision forming like a hard lump in my throat. This is it. I need to say something.
“Look, I get it,” I start, drawing their attention. “I’m not the easiest guy to get along with. Hell, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to be in this room right now.”
Liam's eyes narrow. “What's your point, Reynolds?”
“My point is,” I continue, taking a deep breath, “I want to be here. With this team. I want to win the fucking cup with you guys.” The words feel heavy but necessary.
Liam raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You serious?”
"Did you hit your head a little too hard today during drills?" Noah adds, his sarcastic ass.
“Dead serious,” I say firmly. “But that means we all need to get a handle on our shit together.”
Liam crosses his arms, looking skeptical. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“We start by putting it all out there,” I say, locking eyes with him and then Noah. “We need to all be on the same page… about everything.”
Noah’s expression softens slightly. “You mean... Olivia?”
“Yeah,” I admit, the weight of her name settling between us. “Look, I've been… involved too. But this isn't just about her—it’s about us being a team.”
Liam rubs his jaw, contemplating my words. “So what’s your plan, Ethan? We all just sit down and have a heart-to-heart?”
“Something like that,” I say with a shrug. “We can’t keep avoiding the elephant on the fucking ice.”
Liam exhales sharply, clearly frustrated but understanding the necessity of it all. “Alright,” he finally says. “We’ll talk to her.”
Noah nods in agreement. “Yeah, man. Let’s do it.”
"Alright, how about at the next home game? The next one is away."
"Sounds good." Liam says. "Gives me some time to get my lines rehearsed."
"God, ya'll need a life." I say with an eyeroll.
As I leave the locker room, the conversation with Liam and Noah still echoes in my mind. For once, we’re on the same page about something other than hockey. It’s a strange feeling—one I’m not entirely comfortable with, but necessary.
I pull out my phone to send Olivia a message.
"Hey, I know you've been avoiding me like the bubonic plague but there's something I think we need to talk about. Meet me on the ice after the next home game. Please."
I pocket my phone and make my way to the parking lot. Two games stand between getting to the bottom of shit with Olivia. And I would be lying If I said I'm not counting down the hours.