Chapter 45 Wolfe
FORTY-FIVE
WOLFE
Icollapse into my stall after the second period, closing my eyes to maybe get a power nap in before we go out for the third. This game will far exceed how many shots on goal I’ve experienced.
“Someone DP me,” I say when it’s clear my brain won’t shut off for a power nap. I hold my hand out, and a cold can is pressed into it. Without opening my eyes, I crack that bitch open and sip. “Fuck. This might save my life.”
“Your NHL coach is going to slap that can out of your hand if he sees it,” Hawke mutters.
“Pro guys do so much worse. Don’t even talk to me.”
“I played pro,” Hawke says like any of us forgot.
“And in your day, people were still smoking in the showers.”
“I’m not that fucking old.”
I open my eyes to look at him. “Right…”
Cox bites his arm to stifle his laughing.
Hawke growls but leaves me to enjoy my DP in peace.
“He was probably hiding hotdogs under his pads, too,” I say off handedly.
“Teddy?” Rhys says, perking up across from me. “I’ve tried to make him stop, but he won’t. He says having the option for a little snack is essential to him winning.”
“I… What? I was joking because there is this former goalie who says he used to do that. You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Rhys sighs and won’t meet my eyes.
“Does all his equipment stink?!”
“No, his mom is pretty good about washing it.”
“His fucking mom does his laundry?!” I hold up a hand. “Never mind. Do not tell me.”
Rhys mumbles something.
I plug my ears. “I am not letting his goalie demons haunt me. Do not put that bad energy on me!”
Half the team is laughing. The energy is much better than when we came in here.
“How’s your neck?” Archangel asks, taking the DP out of my hand to switch it out for electrolytes.
“Do you hate me?” I sniff the mixture and wrinkle my nose.
“I want you to not have leg cramps so you can fuck me later because you’ve refused for the last two weeks.” He puts his hands on his hips.
“While that’s a valid point, sugar is important, too.”
“Chug that, and I’ll give the DP back.”
I swallow the nasty liquid and make a face. “Nothing can be worse than this.”
“Cum is probably worse,” Solace throws out.
“There is no way cum is worse.” I grab my DP back from Angel to get the taste out of my mouth.
“You don’t know?” Seaborn asks, holding back a laugh and clearly trying to stir the pot.
“I just don’t know if I can get on my knees for a man before he’s made a life-long commitment to me.” I fight a smile, trying not to look at Archangel.
“I swear to God, if you propose before you blow me, I am going to be so mad.”
“I was just trying to save something for marriage!” I hold up my hands.
Seaborn is dying.
“I just can’t imagine anything coming out of a cock can taste good,” Solace says like he’s really considering this from a deeper level.
“I think it coming out of a dick makes it better. Maybe you just haven’t seen a dick as hot as Archangel’s,” I say with total seriousness.
He slaps my shoulder, side-eyeing me.
I know what he’s thinking, but he won’t say it in front of the team.
“Baby, I’m going to get down on my knee.”
“I heard the singular knee there.”
I sip my can and wink.
“You two getting married already?” Lovelace asks, looking between us.
“Fucking stop. He’s not proposing.” But Archangel gives himself away with a smile.
“Are you sure?” I bend down to re-lace my skates.
“Fuck off.”
I stand up and take in a breath. “We’re not fucking losing this game.
We have twenty minutes left of the season.
I need all of you to find everything you have left and leave it on the ice.
We need a fucking goal. I will take care of my side; I need you all to do yours.
Mark isn’t a better goalie than I am, and you have all scored on me in practice.
We are better than this team. They completely rely on Ktytor, which is a huge weakness.
” Seaborn snickers, and I turn to him. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” Seaborn says.
“I know I’m not. See, even his boyfriend knows. Seaborn will handle Ktytor—the rest of you find the back of fucking net.”
“Keep moving Mark. He gets worse the more out of his stance he is. And hammer in those slap shots. He’s shit at reading the blade when they are that quick, like we talked about,” Coach Hawke slips in when I finish.
“Even if you’re sacrificing some power with a quick shot, as long as the placement is good, that’s how you get past him. ”
“Remember, he’s great with corners. Put the puck 12-14 inches off the ice,” I add to remind the guys they don’t need a perfect corner. They need to be hitting him where he’s weakest.
Everyone is slow back on the ice. The same intensity isn’t there. But it’s both teams, so I’m not worried yet.
I shouldn’t even have thought it because the Monsters steal the puck, and Ktytor gets out on Seaborn on a breakaway.
Fuck.
I come out to challenge, needing Seaborn to fucking catch up, so I don’t have to take a wide-open shot.
Archangel cuts over to help out, hopefully giving Seaborn time to grab his wing.
I backup getting into position, but Archangel knocks the puck free, and it slides around the back.
I move to center on the other player Seaborn is covering, while Archangel and Ktytor fight for the puck.
Archangel gets possession and takes it wide to pass it up, but Ktytor slams him into the boards, stealing the puck.
That one hurt. I can already tell by the flex of Archangel’s jaw.
Ktytor spins with the puck and takes off toward me, Archangel on his heels.
Seaborn stays on the other player who's closer to the goal for now, and Ktytor comes right at me. They’re all converging, and Archangel is keeping up with him, but Ktytor is excellent at getting a shot off while covered. He pulls back and snaps a quick shot.
The puck is skidding low, but I know where he likes to shoot and block it almost without thought.
I growl out a roar, grinning as I look right at him. Archangel laughs, and Ktytor is pissed. This game is about to get a whole lot worse.