Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Felix
I steal the puck from one of the players I most admire in this league, ignore the rush of satisfaction, and take off down the ice.
It’s one of those times where everything falls into place—our players are all where they’re supposed to be, the Glaives’ players are all slightly out of sync, and I can practically smell a goal in our near future.
Glimpsing a Glaives’ D-man approaching fast, I look for opportunities and see that Hebbe’s open—so I pass.
To everyone’s surprise, the pass not only connects smoothly but he bulldozes his way through two Glaives’ players while keeping possession of the puck, handling it with more skill than I thought he was capable of.
He takes his shot, but it pings off the left post, and bitter disappointment lodges in my gut as the arena groans.
It’s not over, though—Vitter swoops in for the rebound, spins, and smoothly passes to Kircic, who sends it over to me, back near the blue line. I take it up to the right face-off dot, ducking the Glaives’ captain, then fire it across the ice to Vitter, still by the net, who tips it in.
The crowd screams.
I slam into Vitter, yelling, “Fucking beauty!” He’s screaming too, a grin splitting his face, and then Hebbe collides with us both, followed by Kircic and Yancey, all of them shouting.
It’s one of the best moments of any game I’ve ever played—I can’t remember the last time we scored because of this level of teamwork, and I fucking love celebrating a goal as a team like this.
As we skate over to the bench to get our fist bumps, I let my gaze skim the crowd.
There are more people than usual for a home game, even with the influx of Glaives’ supporters.
I don’t know if that’s because of our epic season so far or because Erik’s been hard at work with all that marketing stuff—he’s been making us film videos for social media for weeks—but it’s amazing to hear our supporters.
There’s a brief stoppage of play for an ad break—something the community television broadcasters adopted from the human networks that everyone hates—and the cameramen start picking fans out of the crowd to put on the jumbotron.
Last season, that irritated the crap out of me (although to be fair, last season everything irritated the crap out of me), but tonight, seeing the people dressed in team colors and jerseys, holding up signs saying that Vitter is hot or that “Ansas is the Answer” makes me even more determined to win.
I like the idea of being “the answer” to victory. Or whatever.
The picture on the jumbotron changes to show one of the suites, with my friends and Riley sitting in the front row of seats. My nephew leaps to his feet when he sees himself on the screen, half turning so people can see my number and name on the back of his jersey, and I grin.
“Got yourself a teenybopper fan,” Yancey jokes and squirts water into his mouth.
“That’s my nephew,” I tell him, just as the announcer says, “A big Warhammers welcome to King Raeulfr of the Elves and Wingleader Brandt of the Dragons!”
Yancey’s brow goes up. “That’s fancy company your nephew is keeping. Your brother some kind of billionaire?”
I snort and shake my head. “Ari arranged it.”
Vitter appears at my side and slings a heavy arm over my shoulders. “What did Ari do? Aside from making heart eyes at FeFe.”
Conscious of all the eyes on us, I don’t sock him in the mouth. I do jab my elbow into his side, right where his pads end, and snap, “No. That name is not a thing.”
“I dunno,” Yancey says, lounging against the boards as Vitter whines, “it’s got a ring to it.”
“No fucking way.” Hockey nicknames catch on, and I don’t want half the country calling me FeFe.
“Aww, is that because it’s the special pet name Ari uses for you?” Vitter snickers like an asshole teenager, but somehow, instead of getting annoyed, I’m… smiling. It’s a “you’re such an idiot” smile, but it’s still a smile.
“It’s not like that,” I protest, and immediately realize my mistake. My teammates’ ears prick up, all their attention turns to me, and…
I’ve never been so grateful in my life for a ref calling the resumption of play.
We win, and it’s fucking glorious. More so because it’s against the Glaives, who regularly kick our asses—and already did once this season.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time we beat the Glaives, and whenever that was, I doubt it was because we played well. More like we were taking out the best players on their team.
But not this time, and anyone watching our celebrations on the ice might think we’d won the playoffs final. For us, it feels just as good.
At least, I think it does. It’s not like I’d know.
By the time I’m finally showered and dressed, it’s late, and I feel a little guilty for having made Ari and Riley wait.
Until I get to the family room and see the raucous celebration taking place there.
The spouses, partners, and kids of my teammates have waited just as long as we have for a win like this, and they’re reveling in it, screaming and cheering for each player as we walk in.
Not going to lie, I could get used to this. Coach gave us a big speech about how proud he was but also warning that it’s impossible to win every game, and while I know he’s right, that just makes me hungry for it. I want to try to win every game, because now I know we have a shot.
Riley charges at me for a hug. “This has been the best night of my life,” he declares, bouncing on his toes. “Uncle Fe, that was incredible!”
I squeeze him around the shoulders. “Thanks, kid. It’s nice to win for a change.”
“I bet. Come and meet Brandt. He’s invited us to Here Be Dragons for a barbecue.
” He grabs my hand and drags me across the room while alarm bells go off in my head.
I wanted Riley to have a good time, but I didn’t expect him to end up all buddy-buddy with the freaking dragon wingleader. Also, a barbecue in winter?
As we make our way through the overhyped families, I get a lot of back pats and cheek kisses from people I only vaguely recognize.
That tells me two things: First, that half this crowd is probably tipsy.
But also, that I need to make more of an effort to socialize with my team.
I should at the very least be able to identify which teammate these people belong to.
Their names would also be good, but that can be a stretch goal.
“There he is!” Suddenly I’m engulfed in a hug I recognize—it’s Jared, flushed, a lot tipsy, and super happy. “Keep playing like this and I’ll definitely become a Warhammers fan!”
A few people turn around to give him weird looks, and I shush him, trying not to laugh. “This isn’t the place to say that, buddy. But thanks.”
“You were amazing,” he tells me sincerely. “So proud of you, Fe.”
“Me too.” Dáithí joins in on the hug, making it a very tangled group affair. “I had no idea what was happening most of the time, but judging by how much Jared and Ari were screaming, you were awesome.”
My gaze shoots over his shoulder to where Ari’s standing with Eoin and the king, a little smile curving his lips as he watches us. “Gee, thanks,” I say automatically.
Dáithí narrows his eyes, then tracks the direction I’m looking and smirks. “I’ve never actually seen Ari all worked up like that,” he teases. “It’s like he has a thing for you.”
“Are we talking about Ari making heart eyes at FeFe?”
Startled, the three of us turn to Vitter, who’s appeared as if from nowhere. He’s wearing a shit-eating grin to go with his trendy sweater.
“Niki Vitter?” Jared says. “Hi. What did you call Felix?”
“Something that will never be repeated,” I insist. “Do you need something, Vitter?”
His smile disappears. “Uh, no. I just…” He glances around, looking lost.
Riley jumps in. “Wanna meet the dragon wingleader?” He grabs Vitter’s arm and tows him away before he can answer.
“That was weird,” I muse.
Dáithí jabs me in the side. “That was your teammate trying to be friendly, you fool.”
I blink. “What? No.” I turn to Jared. “It wasn’t.”
He winces. “I think it was. And you weren’t very nice.”
“He called me FeFe! And he said that Ari makes heart eyes at me.”
They exchange a glance and then dissolve into chuckles.
“Ugh. I hate you both.” I disentangle myself from them and stomp off in Ari’s direction. Not because he’s making heart eyes at me or because I want to celebrate the win with him. It’s only because he’s here at my invitation and has been riding herd on Riley all night.
He comes forward to meet me.
“Hey.” Why the fuck am I suddenly breathless?
His smile widens, and he leans in to kiss my cheek. I wish he’d given me a proper kiss, but I guess his bosses are here. “Congratulations. You were incredible, and I’m almost hoarse from yelling.”
My cheeks get hot, but I don’t know why. This is stupid. He’s seen me naked. We’ve done things to each other. Why is a little compliment making me act like a shy schoolkid?
“It’s been a great night,” I say, and immediately want to take it back.
“What I mean is, I’m hyped up now. Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep unless I find a way to work off all this energy.
” I try for a seductive smile, am pretty sure it’s a leer, and wonder why I thought “sexed-up creep” was the vibe to go for.
Lucky for me, he seems to get it, his smile turning into a sexy little smirk. “I think I’ve got some ideas for how you can manage that.”
Thank fuck. “Yeah?”
He chuckles. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Brandt, we’ll drop Riley home, and then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”
“Sounds good to me.” I follow him the few feet to where the king is talking to some people I don’t know—and Riley and Vitter, who I guess I’m going to have to be nice to. Maybe I could bring him a coffee tomorrow? Or something.
One of the men I don’t know, an older guy with silvering hair, grins widely and claps his hands. “Felix! Can I call you Felix? That was the best hockey game I’ve ever seen!”
“It was the only one you’ve ever seen,” King Raeulfr says dryly. “Felix, meet Brandt. Believe it or not, he was put in charge of the dragons.”
“It’s an honor,” I say, extending my hand, but he bats it aside and pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he says when he draws back. “Next time, I’m bringing Percy and our daughter. I saw some of the children have those adorable ear protectors. She would love those.”
“She’d love bashing people over the head with them,” another man interjects, and Brandt rolls his eyes.
“This is Wil. He’s my killjoy for the night, and despite his harsh words, he adores Cecy.”
“Everyone adores Cecy,” Wil tells me, holding out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Brandt’s security. It’s great to meet you—thanks for making this a fun shift.”
Oh, that’s nice. “It was fun for me too.”
“Incidentally,” he adds, “I’ve known Ari a long time, and I love seeing him all unfocused like this.”
“I’m not unfocused,” Ari says firmly. “I wasn’t on duty tonight. When I’m working, my focus is exactly where it needs to be.”
Wil laughs and claps him on the back. “Sure, man.”
“Before we get off topic, we need to decide when you’re coming for the barbecue,” Brandt declares, and as everyone turns to him, my gaze catches on Raeulfr. He’s watching Ari with a faint frown.
“Felix?”
“Uh…” I pull my thoughts together. “Yeah?”
“Do you think the team would come if I invited them all?”
Over Brandt’s shoulder, Wil is pulling a face and shaking his head.
“Maybe next summer,” I prevaricate. “It can be tough to fit things in during the season.”
Judging from the beaming smiles I get from everyone except a pouting Brandt, that was the right thing to say.