Chapter 12 #2
Except that he’s wrong. I am not going to hurt Josephine. Of all the things I’d do, that would be the very last thing. A mistake I never want to make, yet he ran his mouth, all but saying I’ve basically ruined her life.
As if I tainted her or something.
“Don’t be a dick,” I tell my best friend. “I don’t need you on my ass too.”
“Well, he wasn’t wrong.” When I open my mouth to argue, he lifts his hand between us.
“Look, I’m always going to be on your side, but I’m always gonna give it to you straight, yeah?
And this fake engagement thing is a bad fucking idea.
If anyone finds out, it’d not only make you look like an asshole and possibly ruin your career, but hers as well.
You can always be traded to another team, but can she come back from something like that?
You said you did this because of her family—what would they do if they ever found out?
You’re bringing her into this world, so it’s not like she can hide anymore.
For better or worse, she’s in your spotlight now, and there are so many more ways it can go worse. ”
Well, when he puts it like that…
Makes me feel like a piece of shit.
That I’m setting her up to be torn down in a million more ways.
And in public, too. Jo’s already so delicate, her confidence like a flower in winter, wilting under the slightest pressure, and there is a very real possibility she will completely shrivel.
It won’t only be her family making her feel terrible about herself, but the world.
Hockey culture is fucked up.
But if there is one thing that I can promise, it’s that I will do everything in my power to shield her from harm.
“You good, or can I go home and get my dick sucked now?”
I push at Sheffy’s uninjured shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, go home.”
That’s his pregame ritual before home games. A nap and a blow job.
Me? I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then play video games or sleep, depending on how I’m feeling.
Now? I feel like smashing shit, and I fire up Grand Theft Auto as soon as I get home.
Hours later, I still have anger to burn and skate out onto the ice with a score to settle. Sean Kane and the Seadevils are going down.
I scour the spots Jo usually takes photos from but don’t see her until well into the first period, and by then, I can’t even think about how cute she is with her black beanie on, because we’re down two-nothing.
Kane’s being extra chippy, and as soon as we get back from the first intermission, he checks Fedorov so hard, the left winger is taken out of the game.
He messed up his knee over the summer, and if he reinjured it, I briefly wonder if he’ll be out for more than this game.
But I don’t have much time to consider it because Coach puts me in on the line with JP and Cubby.
From the bench, Bombay shouts directions at me while I hear Sheffy’s toothy whistle, and I remember his instructions from earlier.
I make it my mission to chirp in Kane’s ear. In a scrum behind the net, jostling each other against the boards, faking him out to take a shot that’s a near miss.
“See you haven’t gotten any better,” Kane says after he clears the puck out to one of his forwards, who ends up being offside. At the whistle, he juts his chin out. “Hope you’re getting your dick sucked, at least.”
“You want to give it a go? Be easy to take it without all your teeth.”
“Fuck you.”
I wink, flipping my mouth guard with my tongue, leaving him with one parting shot before I skate back to the bench. “Tell your sister I said hi.”
As ugly as Kane is, his sister is beautiful. We flirted a few times, but nothing ever came of it. I’d never actually hook up with one of my teammates’ sisters, though I don’t have a problem letting him assume we did.
Shana always said she liked my smile. While a lot of players don’t wear mouth guards, I do.
Even though Malcolm was convinced I have a concussion, I don’t currently, and I want to keep it that way.
I’ve had one too many for my liking, and the mouth guard is supposed to be a preventative measure.
My teeth can be fixed, but my brain can’t.
I’d like to keep whatever brain cells I have left working.
Every time I’m on the ice and close to Kane, I say something else about his sister, and after enough shit-talk, I draw a tripping penalty. He’s got two minutes in the box, and we’ve got a power play. Coach puts Sheffy’s line back in, and Bombay scores, putting us on the board.
After a pep talk from Coach and a scoop of Froot Loops during the second intermission, I’m feeling good.
Good enough to hit the back of the net with a wrist shot.
The lamp lights up, and I’ve evened the score with just under ten minutes to go.
It was the power play I drew that changed the momentum of the game, and that’s exactly what Coach Elliot tells me after we win, with the last goal coming from Sheffy in the final two minutes.
I’m flying so high from the game that when I spy Jo taking pictures by the tunnel, I practically sprint toward her. She moves her camera in time for me to pick her up and swing her in my arms, kissing her cheek.
“Gross, you’re so sweaty!”
I rub my forehead on her. “You’ve seen me like this before.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never had to be in close contact like this with you.”
“Get used to it, babe.” I set her on her feet and cup her face in my hands, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.
I hear the chatter of fans in the stands and back up enough to smile and wave at them. One of them shouts a question about who Jo is, and I take her hand in mine. “A photographer. Look her up for your next event, at Jo A underscore photo on Instagram.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Fiancée!”
That earns an even louder response from the fans, but I’m too busy basking in Jo’s flushed cheeks. “You embarrassed of me?”
She shakes her head in that cute, faux-perturbed way. “Feels like I can never quite keep up with you.”
I flick the ball on top of her beanie. “Well, mama, get to steppin’. The sooner I get you in the car, the sooner I get to kiss you again.”
I slap her ass on my way to the locker room, earning an adorable growl.
And it takes no time at all for a photo of my hand smack-dab in the middle of her left butt cheek, fingertips curled ever so slightly, squeezing it, to land on the internet.