Chapter 63
SIXTY-THREE
CALLUM
- Present Day -
A lright. I hate to admit it but the last couple of days at practice have been surprisingly.
. . not terrible . Jonah’s reflexes have been absolute fire, stopping even the most insane passes from slipping through the crease, and he’s even managed to send the puck my direction a few times while resisting the urge to deliberately shoot it at the back of my helmet.
Out of necessity, we’ve spent an exorbitant amount of time in each other’s company over the last week and a half, and surprisingly enough, we’re kind of .
. . almost . . . tolerating each other’s existence.
Most of the time. For Sutton, of course .
Still, the tentative unspoken truce hasn’t been bad for our game, and everyone on the team has begun to notice.
Hell, they’re not even trying to be subtle about it.
“What in god’s name has gotten into you?”
“That’s it. Call a press conference. Hell has literally frozen over. Clearly. There’s no other possible explanation for whatever this is.”
“ Awe! Besties! ” Bash skates over to us, tossing an arm over each of our shoulders as he continues in a singsong voice. “I smell another bromance in the making.”
Okay, now that’s taking things too far.
“Fuck off, Adamare.” With a scowl, I shove him off and catch a glimpse of Davies doing the same, the grimace on his face just barely discernable through his goalie mask.
“Now, now. No need to be salty. I know everyone wishes they could have the kind of relationship me and my man Giovanni do. I get it. It’s cute, really.
Still. . .” flipping around, he skates backwards, gesturing between the two of us as he wags his eyebrows suggestively, “this has potential for the next gen of our team. I ship it .”
Ugh.
“Next generation? You do realize that I’m only like, three years younger than you right?” Wait, why did I say that?
“Leave them alone, Bash.” Giovanni skates up next to him, ice spraying as he comes to a sharp stop in front of our little group.
“Not everything needs to be -” He cuts off, shaking his head.
“You know what, never mind. Stop screwing around and hit the showers. And leave them alone, Adamare. I mean it.”
“Oh Captain, my -”
“No.” Theo slaps him upside the head before turning to head off the ice.
The effect is dulled however, given the helmet and all, and Adamare doesn’t appear to be phased in the slightest by his longtime friend’s fake annoyance.
With a grin, Bash just laughs, skating off in the same direction presumably to hit the showers at the Captain’s orders.
Refusing to look in Jonah’s direction, I decide to do the same before anyone else can start some weird shit where this is concerned.
“ Robinsky. Davies. A word.” Tension coils in my gut at the look on Coach O’Reilly’s face.
Shit . Up until the start of this season, I’ve never really given him a reason to doubt my abilities – on or off the ice.
I know there’d been talk behind closed doors of the senior coaching staff eyeing me for potential leadership roles in the future.
Hell, I’d actively been trying to show them the potential I had; that future ‘C’ was going on my jersey one day, and I knew Giovanni was helping to set me up for that role whenever he decided he was ready to step down. And then Newbie came along, and I went and fucked everything up.
Straightening, I lock my shoulders and I follow Jonah into the Coach's office.
He follows after us, moving around to sit behind his well-worn desk.
Apparently it is a relic of his bygone era, back when he retired as a player himself and took his first coaching job.
Word has it that despite the sleek furnishings of the multimillion dollar ice-plex and the offices designed to match, he insisted on bringing it with him when he took the new coaching job here a few years back.
“Sit.”
Jonah takes the chair to my left, so I fold my long frame into the only other chair next to him. Never one to beat around the bush, Coach jumps straight into it before my ass has even hit the seat.
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on here?” One eyebrow raised, he gives a look that reminds me of my dad whenever I was caught trying to do shit that I wasn’t supposed to while growing up.
“Uh. . . “ Straightening in his chair, I can feel Jonah throw me a confused glance before directing his attention back at Coach, but I don’t look in his direction. Whatever this is, I don’t want to add fuel to the fire, so instead I remain silent, waiting. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“Who knew you two dipshits could actually get along? We may actually stand a chance at the playoffs if you can keep up whatever the fuck this is.”
While the comments from the rest of the guys have toned down since that last practice, thanks in no small part to a pointed lecture from Giovanni, Coach isn’t wrong.
Our last two away games we’ve played better than ever, falling into a smooth routine.
Our tentative truce off the ice has definitely translated into something that can’t quite be put into words.
I wouldn’t say we’ve become friends by any means, but through some sort of miracle we’ve fallen into a routine and I guess I’d have to say (albeit begrudgingly) that off the ice, we’ve come to understand each other, respect one another, even.
And on the ice? Well, that’s translated into better communication.
Hell, if nothing else we aren’t actively working against one another which has slowly closed some of the gaps in our plays that our animosity tore open at the start of the season.
“Can I expect more of this from the two of you moving forward?”
Jonah doesn’t respond, and I can’t say I blame him.
It’s not as if we’ve taken the time to hash out our differences.
Our focus has solely been on making sure Sutton is alright, and now that she’s gotten the ‘all clear’ from her doctor, that leaves a lot of uncertainty moving forward about what happens next.
I mean, the whole reason for our truce, the reason I’ve been crashing at their place, has officially been removed as of this morning’s appointment.
There’s no reason for me to stay now. No reason to pretend that he’s not still dating my girl.
Hell, for a short while, it was almost easier to pretend she really was ours.
And being completely honest with myself, that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach?
Well, I’m sure that’s the only reason why.
It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I no longer have a reason to stay, that we no longer have a reason to keep up whatever this is.
So what the hell does that mean for us as teammates?
Do we go back to actively hating one another?
Do I just pretend like it doesn’t kill me seeing him with her? I mean. . .seeing her with him?
“Yea-” My voice is thick and I have to pause, clearing my throat. “Yeah. Of course. We’re good.”
He doesn’t speak for a long moment, staring critically at the both of us.
“Right. Then go get changed. I’ll see you both out on the ice.”