Chapter 14
LOCKE
“Looking good, fellas. Looking good.”
When there’s finally a chance to get some fresh legs out there, Poldzkin rushes toward the bench, and I hop over.
I join the play, and with a few missed passes by LA, we’ve got the edge once more.
Hayes grabs the puck, sending it over to Frederic.
They trade it back and forth a few times, Hayes unable to find an opening, too many opponents blocking any potential lanes, and all the other guys are covered.
I see a flaw, though, and tap my stick against the ice, calling for it.
With just a soft, one-touch pass from Frederic, I have the puck.
I drag my arm back and let it rip. Nobody sees it coming, and I let the puck fly off the end of my stick, going top shelf on the goalie just like I did to Fox in practice.
The lamp lights up behind the LA net, and my teammates go wild.
“Fuck yes!” Lawson yells.
“That’s my boy!” Hayes thumps me on the helmet.
I point to Frederic, letting him know it was all his play that got us the goal, especially with him having been out on the ice so damn long. I lead them down the bench, bumping fists with my other teammates as I go. Fox is standing at the end, a huge grin on his face.
“See? I told you!” He taps his helmet against mine, congratulating the other guys before skating back toward his net.
We’re up 4–1 now, and our buffer is looking even better with eight and a half minutes to go. We settle down, getting back into position, and the puck is dropped at center ice. I finish out my shift, then plop down on the bench, trying to catch my breath.
“Fuck, my lungs are burning,” Hayes says.
His words make me feel a little better because I feel like I’m dying out there. It’s like I’m skating through sand instead of on ice.
“Don’t know how your old ass is still doing this,” he remarks.
Me either.
“Hope to hell I’m half as good as you when I hit your age.”
He thinks I’m playing well out there? Sure, I scored a goal, but that was only because nobody thought to cover the old guy. Still, as silly as it is, Hayes’s words light a spark inside me that I didn’t know I needed.
When I hit the ice for my next shift, it feels as if I’m skating a little easier.
I’m still struggling and barely moving fast enough to stay out of reach of the other guys, but I’m keeping up, which is all I can ask for at this point in my career.
When I get the puck, I flip it down toward LA’s empty net, just barely missing.
They hustle after it, and our guys are right there too, battling it out.
Keller being Keller lays a big hit, and it’s just enough to get the team and crowd fired up.
Suddenly, sticks and gloves are flying all over the ice, and I have someone by the collar.
He tries to throw a punch at me, but I dodge each attempt.
Meanwhile, Keller has someone in a headlock, practically giving him a noogie.
It’s hilarious and chaotic and exactly why I love this damn game to begin with.
I’m not nearly as scrappy as my teammate, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t still fun, especially knowing one minute we could be throwing punches and the next we’d be attending each other’s weddings.
There’s one last meaningless puck drop before the final buzzer. The Serpents swarm Fox, patting him on the head, then congratulating each other. We just won our first game of the season, and it feels so damn good.
Maybe I’ve been overthinking this the whole time. Maybe I’m not too old to be out here on the ice. Maybe I can keep up and keep doing this for at least a few more years. Maybe I’m not the main course on the chopping block like I thought.
“Absolutely fucking stellar, boys!” Coach Smith beams at each one of us in the visitors’ locker room. “That’s how you start a fucking season off!”
He looks like such a proud dad, and I get it—I’m proud too. We played good out there.
“Hit those showers. The bus leaves in twenty.”
We do as he says, the room buzzing from the win.
Everyone’s laughing and joking, even Keller.
Well, at least as much as he laughs. Twenty-five minutes later, we’re on the road to Anaheim for our next game.
The bus is mostly quiet. Everyone is either on a tablet or talking quietly to their family on the phone.
“Nice goal out there,” Keller says about ten minutes into the journey.
“Nice fight,” I counter.
Leave it to Keller to drop the gloves during the first game of the season. He’s our enforcer for a reason.
“So, how’s it going?”
Something in the way he says it has me turning to him.
“What do you mean?”
He lifts his brows. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Fuck. I do know what he means.
Nessa.
I clear my throat, sitting up higher to look over the seats to see where Hutchinson is. He’s all the way up front by Coach. He has his phone out, flipping through photos of his new baby girl. I settle back into my seat, glancing over at a smug-looking Keller.
“She moved in with me.”
“What?!”
Keller’s outburst draws the attention of several of our teammates.
“Shh! Rory was just about to tell me what she’s wearing!” Lawson says from two seats up.
I swear I hear Rory say, “I was not!”
I toss Keller a look that clearly says What the fuck was that?
“That’s what I would like to know,” he says, reading it clearly. “What the fuck do you mean she moved in with you? Into our building?”
I shrug. “I mean, she moved in. How hard is that to comprehend?”
He glowers, though that’s nothing new for him. “Dude.”
“What?”
But I know what. I do. It’s so fucking stupid and reckless.
I can see that now, especially after how we left things.
I had every intention of sleeping on the couch, but then she looked at me with those forest eyes of hers, and I broke.
Granted, it didn’t take much convincing—actually, almost none on my part—but still.
I really was trying to keep my distance.
I was trying to be good. I was trying to stay away.
I couldn’t, though. Just like I couldn’t resist asking her about that night.
“You, Gavin. I was scared of you.”
What did that even mean? Why was she scared of me?
Did she mean scared of us? Scared of what the night meant?
Because it fucking terrified me too. It still does because how the hell am I still so hung up on a one-night stand from half a year ago?
How am I still so tangled up in knots over someone I spent one night with? I don’t fucking know, but I am.
We didn’t say anything else after that confession.
I pretended to fall asleep, waiting for Nessa to do the same.
Eventually, she did, and it was her soft snores that finally lulled me into slumber.
I wish I had never slept at all, though.
All I did was dream about that night. It felt so fucking real, like it was happening all over again.
I woke up with my cock so damn hard I had to take a cold shower.
I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.
But there I was, a nearly forty-year-old man standing under the icy water to avoid stroking my dick to thoughts of a beautiful younger woman.
I was so disgusted with myself that I left hours before I needed to just to avoid seeing her again.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I mutter.
“So Hutch knows?” Keller counters.
“No, because it’s none of his business. She’s an adult.”
He snorts. “Right. She’s what, twenty-four or something?”
“Twenty-seven.”
He whistles. “Quite the age gap you got there. Ten years?”
“Eleven,” I say through gritted teeth. “What the fuck is your point, Keller?”
“My point is: You’re too fucking old to be doing stupid shit like this, to be hiding stuff from your friends. And by the way, you wouldn’t be hiding it if you didn’t think you were doing something wrong.”
“I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong because I’m not. And I’m not hiding anything. I just haven’t told him yet.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
I can’t help but laugh at the irony of this situation. Two years ago, I was having this exact conversation with Hutch when he was sneaking around with Auden, despite it being forbidden. The only thing is, I’m not sneaking around with Nessa.
But you want to , a little voice in my head says, and I try to shush it the best I can.
Keller sighs. “Look, man, all I’m saying is, be careful, yeah?
You’ve already got one big secret regarding his sister, and now you’re making it two.
You’re digging yourself a hole. That’s not like you, Locke.
You’re not that kind of guy, so that tells me one of two things—you’re either in over your head and just don’t know how to swim out, or this girl means more to you than you’re letting on.
If I were a betting man, I’d say it’s option two. ”
I open my mouth to argue, but Keller barrels on.
“But that’s your thing. You deal with that however you need. I’m still firmly in the camp that this could ruin the team dynamic, and I don’t want that. So whatever’s going on…however you feel…figure it out and be honest about it.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I.
How could I? It’s clear Nessa means something to me, but I don’t exactly know what that is.
Is she just a damn good memory, or is she something else?
I think I already know the answer to that, but it’s late and I’m tired and I don’t want to analyze shit anymore.
We pull up to the hotel shortly after and pile out. We get our rooms and turn in for the night, that post-win buzz from earlier having worn off by now. Besides, I’m sure most of these guys want to get to their rooms to talk to their partners some more. I know I’d be doing that if I had someone too.