Fifty-Six
GAME
“Last call to check your phones, boys. You’ve got five minutes, and then I want ‘em all in the bucket. We’ve got a game to fucking win!
” Jake yells over the locker room noise as I finish up texting Alvi.
He’s in the stands, sitting in the family section with Ed, and they should be there with my sister, Red, Drew, and Davis.
Alv dropped by the house this morning with a cardboard box of fucking coffee, bagels for the boys, and a dozen donuts that Ed immediately claimed. He also came up with options for tonight.
I made it clear that I was going through with it. The money they’d make, and the loss we’d take, doesn’t mean shit to me. It’s fucking worthless in the grand scheme of shit. Reality is, Ed will always be worth more.
Her debt being wiped clean and her peace of mind are priceless.
And if the price tag is throwing this fucking game, then so be it.
Any of my boys who have plans to go pro are already making moves.
Tonight won’t matter or affect them the next time that they lace up their skates.
The way I see it, every team’s season ends at some point, and tonight it’s ours.
What they don’t know won’t hurt them. It’s what I decided on after I spent all night thinking about it. It’ll legit just add complications if I tell them what’s going on. Plus, this is for me to carry, not them.
This is how I make shit right on my own for once. It’s my reset for all the shit that I’ve caused up to this point. I need a clean slate, too. From the shit with parents, fucking high school bullshit, my sister’s attacks, fucking college drama, all of it. Even hockey.
After the game, this fucking shit with her cousin and his boy will be over. All I want is that fucking body-cam footage. They try any shit or go back on their word, then I’m gonna be the one catching a charge.
Alvi knows whatsup, and he’s not fucking around. From what he said, the neighborhood’s not having it, and neither am I. There’s an opportunity for this shit to roll out smoothly, and I even threw in my own bet to support the cause. I owe Maxy boy fifty and threw that in too.
Alv:
You good?
Me:
Yeah, u?
Alv:
Just stick to the plan.
Me:
Bet.
Watch my girl.
Alv:
She’s fine.
You know she can beat your ass, right?
“Fucker,” I mumble to myself and close out his text. I know he’s got my back, and I know he’s not gonna let Ed out of his fucking sight.
I’ve already texted Drew, and I know that he’s on it as well. He’s always been good like that. He’s watched over my sister and Red when they come to our games. Davis is alright as well. Fucking QB1.
I also texted my sister to make sure that the three girls stick together, especially if they fucking go to the bathroom or something.
I don’t want Ed freaking out and being alone.
Everything’s gonna be a big fucking group effort.
I don’t give a single fuck, my girl’s gonna have her own security detail when I’m not able to be by her side.
Me:
All good?
B:
Stop worrying, she’s fine! She’s eating cheese fries.
And wearing your chain ??
My sister sends me a pic of my demon girl, and she’s stuffing a fork full of food into her mouth. Even with the photo catching Ed mid bite, I can tell by her glossy eyes that she’s fucking nervous.
She’s got her black jacket pulled over the hoodie that she picked out, and I clock my gold chain popping out. She’s got the hood up, her beanie on, and her hair must be buried behind her back. It’s like she’s trying to hide in plain sight, and now I fucking feel bad.
Earlier, I had insisted that she wear my jersey or one of my sweatshirts that had my name and number on the back.
I couldn’t get her to do any of that shit.
I should’ve fucking known when she pulled one of my plain black hoodies out that she wasn’t trying to be a fucking menace for once, she was just trying to be comfortable in an already overwhelming situation.
Fucking hell. My heart is literally squeezing inside my chest. I’m sorry, baby.
Me:
I just sent you a Venmo. Take her and Alvi up to the team store.
Make sure she’s taken care of, B.
I appreciate you.
B:
You’re a good boyfriend, A ??
No, no, I’m not. I’m also not a good brother.
I click over to Amazon and find Evie’s wishlist. She made one of these for each of us for our birthdays.
Looking through the books she’s got on here, I go with the top three that she’s got on her list: Runaways by Elle Mitchell, Ink just a terrible feeling that’s being intensified by the “boos” that are being shouted all around me. ?Ay, diosas, wey!
“Damn, your boyfriend missed again,” he comments, shaking his head in disappointment. My man used his stick to hit the black thing toward the net, and it’s ‘gone wide’ every time.
According to Alvi, he’s having an off night.’ I know this is all a part of the plan. He told me before we left what to expect. Pero, just because I know what’s about to happen doesn’t mean that I like it. I don’t feel right about it at all.
I literalmente begged him not to do this, and we got into a big ass argument. I told him we’d figure it out and that I wouldn’t run, but he wouldn’t fucking listen.
I was so mad that I locked his ass out of his own room and pulled my oracle deck out from the bottom of my bag, making him knock on his door and sit outside. Good. Fuck you, Hunter.
I’ve never cared about someone like this before, and knowing that his dumbass is putting himself at risk for me is as idiotic as it gets. He’s also thick-headed and not listening to anything I say. I fucking hate that shit! ?Pinche pendejo!
I needed a fucking three-card spread, a joint, and some fucking Nutella to calm down. ?Qué mala! Solo tenía dos de las tres. Too bad I only had two of the three.
I sat cross-legged on the bed and was so fucking heated that I shuffled the deck so hard that three cards fell out into my lap.
The first one; Trust and Hold my vision, instructed me to have faith in my plans and remain steadfast in my resolve.
The second one said to; Take time to breathe out, encouraging me to release tension and trust life rather than rushing into new actions, which was fucking hard to do when the easiest answer was to run away.
The third and final card told me that the path forward is clearing and events are unfolding as they should.
I asked these cards for guidance, so I know that I should trust them, but even having their answers didn’t make the bad feeling in my stomach go away; if anything, it’s getting worse as this stupid game goes on. He said something about innings, but how fucking long are they?
And regardless of what Sloane’s brother thinks, it’s not the cheese fries that’s giving me indigestion, no, the pit of my belly is bubbling because being in the same room with Princess Payton always has a way of making my fucking stomach turn.
And this bitch just took a seat with Gabe and that baboso Dylan one section over.
“WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY WON’T YOU PASS TO ME? THREE FUCKING TIMES YOU GOT GREEDY AND THREE FUCKING TIMES YOU WENT WIDE!” my brother yells from the stall next to mine after the second period. “Stop fucking around! Play like you wanna fucking win!” he adds after taking a seat and a breath.
I’m playing like shit, and if anyone out there were to catch on, it’d be him. He knows and can anticipate my every move out on the ice. We complement each other’s styles so well that any pro team would be fucking bat-shit crazy to separate us.