20. Traveling Games & Timeline Jumps
Chapter Twenty
Traveling Games & Timeline Jumps
MILES
The orange and green of the Tampa Barracudas was painted all over their arena.
I sat on the bench directly next to Coach Julian, who was shouting out at the guys on the ice.
It was a tough match and we were down by two points, but the star players had just been swapped back into the game, so I had faith we’d see this turn around.
One of those star players was Dylan. He skated across the ice like he’d been born with blades on his feet.
He was much more focused and in the game than he’d been the last couple times I watched him play.
He successfully managed two stealing swipes and nearly sank the puck but was blocked at the last second by their goalie.
I was close enough to hear the chirps, the shit talking, the grunts, the groans, and the cracks as bodies slammed into bodies.
I internally winced when it was Dylan’s body getting shouldered against the boards. I knew he lived for that kind of rough play, but not only was I his athletic trainer, but I was also his fated mate, which meant my protective instincts were doubling down.
Fated mate…
That conversation had happened a few days ago and still swirled around my head, distracting me from worrying about my stalker.
It frustrated me that I didn’t feel the same physical explosion that he did, or the same sensations mentioned in the stories.
But there was also no denying that I had very intense feelings for Dyl.
They developed slowly, naturally, and were only growing stronger by the day.
Every text we sent, every cuddle, every joke, every fuck that left me panting with my legs shaking, everything pushed me further and further down the road that solely led to Dylan.
Dylan smacked the puck over to Gabriel. He took possession, swerved around an opponent, and then passed it back to Dyl. They worked like a singular mind. Gabe must have spotted the guy that was making a beeline toward Dyl. He shouldered him back, blocking him from stealing the puck.
Fuck yeah. Nice. You’ve got this, Dylan.
He was coming up on the goal with incredible speed and precise control. A white number seven outlined in baby blue marked the back of his jersey. He was so fucking attractive in his hockey gear. Made even hotter by the fact that I knew exactly how he looked underneath it.
I pictured his strong thighs flexing and twitching as they pushed him across the ice.
The cords of muscle in his shoulders as he guided the puck with his stick.
The tension in his calves as he slowed to line up the shot.
The curve of his biceps as he channeled all his power into sending the puck past the goalie.
The wide and bright smile underneath his helmet as the puck flew into the goal and against the net.
“Fuck yeah!” Coach Julian shouted as the rest of the bench broke into cheers. One more and we were tied. Only two minutes left of the entire game. We could do it.
“Think we got this?”
The sudden and slightly shrill voice made me jerk to the side.
George, the assistant coach, sat almost knee-to-knee with me.
There was plenty of space on the bench. I inched over to my left, giving us some breathing room.
“Tampa’s defense is good, but I think the guys spot some weaknesses. So yeah, yeah I think we’ve got it.”
“Same. Not a lot of injuries either, tonight. Makes your job much easier, huh?”
“It does,” I said, my attention drifting back to the ice.
Eli had the puck now. He was as agile as a fox out there.
If I hadn’t known, I would have thought he was a shifter like us.
We weren’t totally at an advantage when it came to playing against humans, but we did have some faster reflexes and sharper senses that helped with making split-second decisions.
Eli seemed to have all that and more, taking the puck past the red line and toward their goal again.
“You doing anything fun tonight? Exploring Tampa?” George asked as if there wasn’t one minute left on the clock.
“Hotel, I think. I’m tired.” I was being short but only because I didn’t want to miss what was happening.
Dylan had the puck. He was about to get body slammed but dodged it, sending the other guy into the boards behind him. The plexiglass rattled. The arena was loud, the cheering and chanting from both sides echoing through the space.
Dylan lined himself up again. It would be such a tough shot to make. Two of Tampa’s guys were almost on him. The goalie was primed and ready.
Dyl took his shot. I held my breath and nearly lost sight of the puck. I gasped, then broke into a cheer as the net shook and air horns blasted through the arena.
Overtime.
The guys took their spots on the ice. The energy in the arena was electric.
Music was blaring—a popular hip hop song that got everyone hyped up.
George was clapping his knees. He had a clipboard meant for taking notes that sat at his feet and appeared mostly empty, with a couple of random doodles in the corner.
“If you want to hang out after, let me know,” George said loudly over the music. “I’m thinking of hitting up a couple bars. Maybe karaoke if you’re into that.”
I could tell George really wanted to be friends with me, maybe even something more than that. I didn’t mind making new friends—although I wasn’t exactly the best at it and did prefer focusing my energy elsewhere in my life. I also didn’t want to do much after the game anyway.
Except maybe hang out with Dylan.
I’d been dreaming about him giving me another massage since that last time. I’d wake up with my sheets wet from how much pre-cum he’d draw out of me, even in my damn sleep. And watching him play tonight… it was lighting my blood on fire.
“Maybe we can hang when we get back to Burlington?” I suggested, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to bed early tonight.”
“Yeah, perfect, that sounds good.”
The airhorn blasted and the puck dropped as the overtime round began. Coach hadn’t swapped out any of the guys. I watched as Dyl lined up with Emmy at the center and Gabe as the right winger.
The guys on the ice exploded into action. Skates kicked up clouds of ice as they cut across the rink, everyone fighting to gain control of the puck. Sticks were slapped, mothers cursed out, and one of the Tampa guys went sliding backward on his ass after a shoulder from Dylan.
But then the Tampa guys stole the puck away from Gabe. The bench around me got deathly quiet. Only Coach was shouting, encouraging, pushing.
Dyl was trying to catch up but it was Emmy who was the closest. He went for a steal but couldn’t manage. Soren was at the goal. I could see the fire in his eyes from underneath his helmet. Two burning dark sparks trained only on the puck.
The Tampa player aimed, took his shot. Emmy crossed its path. The puck went rogue and lifted off the ice. It bounced off his stick and ricocheted upward.
Directly under his helmet.
I could almost hear the sickening crunch from over the unified groan of the crowd.
The referee whistled. The game paused as blood poured from under his helmet.
Welp. So much for no injuries. I shot to my feet.
This was my job, after all. Even though I knew Emmy would be just fine in a few minutes, the majority of the people watching would be thinking the worst. Dylan and Eli helped him skate to the bench.
Before I knew it, his sister had appeared, surprising me as she leaped over the barrier to check on him.
Coach didn’t say anything. “Are you okay?” she asked him, as I helped him sit down on the bench. The bleeding had already stopped. I gently lifted off his helmet and handed him a Gatorade bottle while I got a warm, wet cloth to clean his face.
“I’ll be fine,” Emmy said. “Send in Chris, Coach. He’s got this.”
Chris, who had come to stand near me in concern, looked to his alpha.
I noticed a brief flicker of hesitation in his expression.
Emmy nodded his reassurance. Coach valued Emmy’s opinion as the captain and didn’t object.
The ice was quickly cleaned and Chris jumped over the barrier and onto the ice, taking Emmy’s spot as center.
As high as the stakes in the game were, I knew I had a job to do. And I certainly loved my job. Even more than the game itself, which was saying something. I enjoyed helping people heal and making them feel better, even when their bodies had it under control already.
The puck had hit right underneath Emmy’s chin.
I was sure there’d been some kind of fracture or break, but while gently feeling around the area, I could tell his shifter genetics were swiftly mending the damage.
I cleaned it up and placed a bandage there just for appearances as the skin had already stitched itself closed.
Anyone else would have needed to go to the hospital for at least twenty to thirty stitches, as well as be concerned about blood loss.
“You’re so good at your job,” Macie said next to me, her back to the game, her wide green eyes full of worry for her older brother. She knew he was a shifter but I guessed that sibling worry overrode logic.
“I didn’t even realize you’d be here,” Emmy said.
“I was going to surprise you after the game. I guess I ruined the surprise.” She played with her ponytail, twirling it between anxious fingers.
I noticed she had on a similar bracelet to mine.
Brushed gold with that beautiful marbling effect to it.
Emmy must have gifted it to her. She looked to me and the concern appeared to be replaced with sadness.
“I wanted to take you both to dinner. Kind of like how it used to be when we were younger. When we’d eat at Chili’s or something. I’ve been reminiscing a lot lately.”
Those were nice memories, for sure, but I hadn’t really been craving that kind of interaction tonight.