57. Game Misconduct
I can”t believeit”s been 2 weeks since that first night with Lily. When she could barely walk the next morning, I teased her without mercy. Maybe a night with four orgasms will do that to a woman. But now, we”ve done so many things in so many ways that my dick is sore twenty-four hours a day. I cleared the browser history on my phone this morning so no one could see that I searched ”broken dick emergency” last night. But somehow the big guy still wants more. Every time I see Lily, it stirs, and since she”s spent almost every night of the last two weeks with me, it”s done more stirring than a kitchen spoon.
Tonight, though, starts a four game road trip that will last six nights. Six nights of not being able to see the look on my girl”s face as I drive her over that limit again and again. Six nights of not being able to fill her the way she deserves every night. Six nights of my hand being very fucking busy as I lie in a lonely hotel bed and stare at the nude picture she sent me last night. But before any of that, we have to get through the Squall.
Even before the team made the inexcusable decision to trade Milo, we”ve all had this Denver game marked on our calendars. For the last week, I”ve had a reminder set to go off every morning to make sure it”s the second thing I think about, right after I give thanks for waking up next to Lily. It”s only the middle of January, but we”re just four points behind Denver in our division. That means every game until the playoffs start is going to be important. Especially a game when we can earn two points while keeping Denver from getting any. We have two games left against them, so if we can win both of them in regulation, that turns our four point deficit into a tie.
And that”s not even factoring in the pride that”s on the line tonight. Trades are part of life as a professional hockey player, but that doesn”t mean their effects don”t hang around. Neumann is shaping up to be a great teammate, but I know he sees how much we miss Milo. So he wants to prove to us that he”s worth it, and he wants to prove to Denver that they made a mistake getting rid of him. The same goes for Milo. I know firsthand what it”s like to walk into a dressing room after a team traded away one of the top ten scorers in the league to acquire you. You”re aware of every goal that player wracks up through the rest of the season, and if you don”t make at least one exceptional save for each of those, then you feel like a failure.
Then there”s me. All through rehab, I was determined to do whatever I needed to regain my starting spot, and even though I didn”t admit it, it ripped at me when Coach announced Milo and I would be splitting the duties. But I got used to it, got used to cheering the person who should have been my rival. Now, though, I”m thrust back into that starring role, and I have to prove I can handle it. And after last time, I have to prove I can handle Asher. I know he”s got this game marked too. But knowing him, the only point he”s concerned about is the one he wants to make to me.
I shake my head to clear away all the extra thoughts as I slide my hand into my blocker. I only have room for one thing in my mind as we head out onto the ice to face our rivals and eighteen-thousand of their screaming fans. Neumann asked to be first on the ice tonight, so he”s still in the dressing room with me and the other starters. The look on his face tells me that he”s not sure what to expect. Usually fans love players like him even after they”ve been traded. They realize it”s not the player”s fault. But Denver supporters aren”t always the most rational. ”You ready for this?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and I think I see a little of the hurt that has to be there peek through. He covers it with a grin before anyone else notices. ”But I”ll do it anyway. And we will show them that a furious snowstorm is no match for a little bee.”
”The mascots are very inequitable,” Kayden says.
I roll my eyes. ”So close, but that”s not quite the right word. Bonus points for even knowing it, though.”
”Try not to be jealous that I”m so erudite.”
”Erudite? You”ve used two words longer than six letters. You”re on fire tonight. Hope that carries through onto the ice.”
He claps me on the shoulder, and his eyes light up. ”You know it will, my friend.”
I nod. ”We”ve got this.” I look around at the players gathered around me. ”We are going into their house, and we are going to make them?—”
”Don”t say it,” Kayden interrupts. ”That”s sexist and offensive.”
”I was going to say we”ll make them see that we”re the better team.”
”Oh. Carry on then.”
I wave him off. ”Too late now. The moment is gone. Let”s get out there.”
”And kick ass,” Neumann growls.
I clap him on the shoulder pads. ”What the man said.” He turns and half jogs down the tunnel. The players who aren”t starting are lining the walls, and they hold out their gloved hands to slap ours as we head to the ice.
”Hey.” A soft voice stops me as I fall to the back of the line. ”Have a good game.”
The visitor”s dressing room in this stadium is a maze, so I haven”t had a chance to see Lily since we all arrived a few hours ago. I take my mask off and walk over to her. ”We got this.”
”I know.”
”And I got this.” I point at her before giving her a soft kiss. ”For luck.”
Her eyes dart all around us before she relaxes into a smile. ”Isn”t the girl the one who”s supposed to do that?”
”Don”t let Kayden hear you say that, or he”ll call you sexist. I hope your phone”s charged because I plan on FaceTiming you all night once we”re back at the hotel.”
”Some of us don”t get private suites. I have a roommate, remember?”
”Just Megan. We both know how she spends her evenings on road trips. Be ready. And naked.”
She shakes her head and puts a hand on her hip. ”Ha ha.”
”We”ll see.” I hold my palms up as I walk backwards to the tunnel. I like to think that I look handsome right now, but walking backwards in skates while every inch of me is padded means I probably look more like a video of a waddling penguin played in reverse. But when she blows me a kiss, I don”t care if I look like a shaky baby antelope. I blow it right back to her and turn toward the tunnel. The rest of the team is already on the ice, and as I get closer, the boos of the crowd grow deafening. But it”s going to take more than that to wipe this goofy ass grin from my face.
The way we play in the first period just makes it even bigger. We only have one goal—a deflection off Poppy”s stick that barely snuck between Milo and the post—but we”ve spent at least two-thirds of the period in the O-zone. And the crowd that was so loud I swear I felt the ice shake at the opening face-off is so quiet now I can hear my own breaths. Milo has fought off every shot on goal so far except the one, and as we head off the ice after the horn sounds, I give him a quick salute. I know that even that one goal is bothering him, but he smiles at me.
Behind him, I notice Asher sneering at me. ”Problem Sorenson?”
”Just when you think you know someone...” He skates a circle that takes him past his team”s gate and within a few feet of me. ”Serenity told me she”s not surprised, though. Said she always thought you seemed like the type. She”s in a suite watching tonight, by the way.”
”What the fuck are you talking about?”
He casts me a smirk over his shoulder and then goes down his tunnel. I shake him off. He”s just trying to get into my head.
As I step into the tunnel that will take me to the visitor”s dressing room, I realize that I have no desire to turn around and find out if Serenity really is here or if he”s just talking shit to me. Since she left, I wondered how I would react being in the same space as her again. The answer is, I just don”t care. Nice fucking try, Sorenson, I think to myself. But you have to try harder if you want to get to me.
The intermission passes quickly. Those are the best kinds. When things are going well, I don”t want to be away from the ice any longer than I have to be. I don”t want to give too much time for a hot streak to go cold. Unfortunately, it doesn”t take much time for that to happen today.
The start of the second is almost a mirror of the first. The Squall control the puck in our end for what feels like an eternity, and I see the exhaustion spread through our team. Our defense is getting slack. They aren”t bodying their men the way they should. And I tense, knowing that trouble is going to come any second.
I see the passing lane open just a fraction of a second before the Denver player sees it. If he sends it across the ice, and if Asher can snap it on goal quick enough, he does have an angle. As soon as the Denver player”s stick rises, I slide to my left to close off any opening that might have been there. Princeling is tied up in front of the net. Denver is using him as a screen, but I know exactly where the puck is coming from. I raise my glove just as it whistles past Princeling”s back. Asher dives towards the crease to stick back his own rebound if there is one, but I make sure to glove it so he won”t have the chance.
”No worries, Morrison.” he pats me on the top of my helmet when he sees I”m holding on to the puck. ”I still have plenty of time to score against you.” He”s drawn the attention of some of my teammates, including Kayden who skates up beside us, ready to defend me if Sorenson turns out to be stupider than I think he is. ”Maybe I”ll catch you daydreaming about that cute little boyfriend of yours.”
My cheeks flare and I grip the handle of my stick so tight it presses into my palm even through my glove. ”What are you talking about?” I bark the words at him, even though I know it”s exactly what he wants. Before he can say anything, the ref ushers him and Kayden toward the face-off circle on my left. Kayden skates backward, looking at me, rolling a shoulder to ask what that was all about, but I shake him off. It”s nothing.
Kayden wins the face-off and clears the puck out of our zone. Thankfully. I was so distracted I didn”t even notice the ref drop the puck. He”s just trying to get to me. Block it out. I inhale a long breath and blow it out slowly. Both teams work a long overdue line change as Milo handles the puck behind his net.
The next couple of minutes settle into a sloppy routine. Both teams turn up the forecheck pressure, so there”s not a real threat at either end. Not until Sorenson”s line comes back on the ice. As soon as he”s over the boards, he comes screaming toward me. Their defender, who was content to just control the puck in the neutral zone, flings it ahead toward him, but it”s a sloppy pass. It leads him just a little too far, and by the time he has control, I”ve shut down his angle and make an easy save. ”You can do better,” I call to him as he stops a couple of feet from me.
”Funny, I would have said the same thing to you. What”s his name? Oh yeah, Lily. I never really thought of you as a stickhandler.” He drags his eyes down my body, and it”s all I can do to not tackle him to the ice.
”What the fuck are you talking about, Asher?” Kayden sends a spray of ice toward Sorenson as he skates to a stop.
”Just talking about that tranny your buddy is fucking. I haven”t seen him, but I hear he”s quite pretty.”
Kayden”s eyes dart to me and then back to Sorenson. ”What?—”
”How the fuck would you know anything about who I”m with?”
At this point, the closest ref is sensing trouble, so he skates between the three of us. Asher doesn”t let that stop him, though. ”We have a little birdie on our team who saw the two of you together last time we played. Said it was pretty obvious that you like to play the D.”
”That”s enough, forty-seven.” The ref rests a hand on Sorenson”s shoulder and nudges him away.
”Lily?” Kayden asks. ”Is that who he”s talking about?”
I glare at Sorenson”s back as he skates away. Lily”s ex, Tyler. He saw the two of us in the arena last time, saw that I had her pressed against the wall. He has to be the one who told Asher, but what kind of asshole outs someone like that? He”d better hope I never see him again. I turn to Kayden, who”s still watching me. ”We”ll talk later. Shit. No, we won”t. It”s not my story to tell.” Fuck, Sorenson”s got me spinning.
Kayden nods. ”You know how we feel about her. Nothing”s going to change that.” Everyone in that dressing room has considered her family almost from her first day, and I suspected that this wouldn”t change anything. But it still feels like a weight is lifted away when I hear him say it. ”Now excuse me while I explain to this pile of vulture shit how we feel about our girl.”
I settle back into the crease as Kayden goes to the face-off dot. He”s lined up all wrong, and he slaps at the ice before the ref is even close to dropping the puck. So it”s not a surprise when the ref sends him out of the circle. What is a surprise, though, is when Kayden motions Princeling over toward him. The two have a brief conversation, and then Princeling enters the circle. He”s a defender. There”s a good chance that he hasn”t taken a face-off since early in Juniors. What the hell are they doing?
When the ref drops the puck, Princeling doesn”t even swipe at it. He just falls back into a defensive position. I could have taken a face-off better than that. I scan the ice to take stock of everyone, but mostly to find Sorenson. I have a feeling he”ll make sure whatever they run goes through him. I miss him at first because Kayden is sticking to him, and Kayden never defends Sorenson. Coach has specifically warned us against that. Kayden is a hell of a player on offense, but he”s only average on defense. On a good day.
Denver cycles the puck around the boards a couple of times until finally Sorenson has it on my left. He dekes a quick move to his right and then cuts toward the slot. We”ve all seen it a hundred times in our film sessions before this match. It”s his move, and very few defenders can stop him when he executes it well, and the fake he just laid on Kayden is damn near flawless. But Kayden doesn”t bite. Instead of moving closer to the boards, which is what Sorenson wants him to do, he dashes straight at Sorenson. Even from ten meters away, I see the smile on Asher”s face. Taking Sorenson head-on in this situation is the exact wrong thing to do. He”s too quick. He”ll just skate around anyone and then have a free lane toward the net. But Sorenson underestimates how fast Kayden is.
Before Sorenson can make a move, Kayden catches up and holy shit. He fucking obliterates him. Asher flies backwards to the ice, the puck still at his feet. Everyone seems frozen as we all just watch. Kayden glides to a stop beside Sorenson”s head and says something to him before turning away. In the corner of my eye, I see the ref”s hand raised. A penalty. Damn it.
Kayden doesn”t waste time pleading his case. He skates over to the penalty box before the referee even gets to center ice to announce it. As he does, he turns to me and makes a heart with his hands. I shake my head but can”t help my laugh. ”Love you too, man,” I call out to him. On the other side of the ice, Sorenson is on his feet and heading to the bench. He looks shaken, but not hurt. As much as I hate that prick, I”m glad he”s not. That could have easily crossed the line into a 5-minute major if Sorenson would have just played it up a little more. And five minutes without our best player on the ice would be hell.
As it is, the two minutes are rough enough, and I blow out a long sigh when we finally clear the zone at the end of it. Asher is still on the bench with a trainer examining him, but he doesn”t stay there long. The next time his line is due out on to the ice, he comes barreling off the bench with them. His cocky grin aimed right at me. Apparently he hasn”t had enough.
Sorenson loops around their end of the ice to build up momentum, and then he flies toward me. Just as he crosses the blue line, they pass the puck to him. This time catching him in stride. Princeling tries to slow him down, but he doesn”t stand a chance. Sorenson skates around him like he”s a cone set up for an agility drill. Good. I want this fucker.
I press toward the front of the crease and coil my muscles, ready to spring whenever he shoots. My eyes are on the puck as he moves his stick from side-to-side. He”s coming deep this time. No quick wrister trying to catch me napping. He gets almost to the goal line—I have every angle closed off—but he cuts hard on his edge and drags the puck across the front of the crease. Fuck. I don”t have time to stick it away. I push to the other side. I throw my right leg in front of me to cover the bottom of the net, and I dive forward with my upper body to cover the rest. There”s no way I”m letting him score against me. I don”t care if I tear every ligament in both of my knees. Not happening.
He sweeps the puck across his body as he coils for the shot. His window is tiny, so he has to do it now. And we both know it. He brings the stick down. It slaps square against the edge of the puck. But I”m locked on to it. Not today, you soggy asswipe. I reach out with my blocker and knock the puck down in front of my pads. He sees the rebound a fraction of a second too late, and by the time he can bring his stick down to try for the put-back, I dive over it. I don”t look up until I hear the whistle stopping the play.
Asher shakes his head in disbelief and stares at the puck as I stand. I”m taller than he is, and I rise to every centimeter I can now. ”That one was good,” I say. ”I”m still better, though.” His glare moves up to my face, and he looks like he”s trying to murder me with his eyes. ”What is your problem with me? Do you think you have to prove you”re worthy of taking Serenity from me? Because you really don”t. I don”t care who she”s with. I wish you both the best.”
”How does that work when you”re with that boy of yours?” He tries to sound detached, but his voice is still angry under the forced monotone. ”Who does the fucking?”
I”ve never believed that a person can lose their vision from anger, but right now white is spreading in from the corners of my eyes, leaving only Asher Sorenson. His mouth is still moving. He”s saying something, and that arrogant sneer is on his lips. But I can only hear the blood roaring in my ears. I rip my blocker and glove off, and before he can even react, I swing. Something pops under the blow. I”m not sure if it”s my fist or his face. I don”t care. The feeling is so satisfying. Almost as satisfying as seeing his head whip to the side, lining up perfectly for me to slam my left fist into his nose. This time I know it”s not my knuckles that I feel crunch.
I”ve played hockey for twenty-seven years, and somehow I made it until this moment without ever fighting. Partly because I”ve been a goalie almost that entire time, but I”m also not a violent person. It takes a lot to make me angry, and I”ve never let anyone push me to the point where I wanted to hit them. But now? This feels fucking great. Asher shakes off his gloves and raises a hand to deflect one of my blows. Then he throws a punch at me. I might not be a fighter, but I am a professional blocker. It doesn”t even come close to hitting me. Unlike the jab that I hurl at his already broken nose. ”No one talks about her like that, got it? Please tell me no, because I would love to fucking beat the lesson into you all day.”
He takes one more swing at me, but he”s so dazed it throws him off balance. With his body twisted, I shove him and he crumples to the ice. The anger is still roiling through me, but I force myself to skate back until the crossbar of the net pushes into me. That”s when I notice the other ref and the linesperson moving between me and Sorenson. Another breath, and I can see the players from both teams gathered halfway between us and the benches. Another breath, and I can hear the crowd booing and whistling down on me.
I skate toward the bench, already knowing what comes next. Vaguely, I”m aware of a referee announcing a game misconduct penalty. I”m ejected from a game for the first time in my life. And I do not regret it at all.