Chapter 10 - Aleksey
The arena above us roared, but the only thing cutting through was Coach Corby’s voice.
He blocked my path in the tunnel, chewing the inside of his cheek.
My muscles were still coiled tight from the back of the van last night.
Every time the memory surfaced, a cold dread settled low in my stomach. I shoved it down.
Corby cleared his throat. “Kid, you were a millimeter away from watching this final from the stands.”
I kept my face blank. “I know.”
“Scouts saw the tape from yesterday. They saw you lose your head out there. Even the tournament director wanted you suspended.” He crossed his arms. “I had to go to bat for you. Told them it was a clean fight. Told them you’re a passionate player who simply needs to rein it in. I’m sticking my neck out.”
A slow nod was all I gave him.
“But if you do that shit on my ice again, you don’t simply get benched. You’re just done,” he said, sighing. “I can’t salvage your draft chances if you aren’t playing.”
A cold knot formed in my gut. Hockey was my only ticket out. Going back home to my mother with nothing was not an option.
Coach dropped his hands and patted my shoulder.
“The only reason I tolerate your attitude is the fact that you’re a good player.
Officially, I’m angry at you.” He stepped back.
“Unofficially... I’m glad this team has you looking out for them.
Taking out dirty players means they’ll think twice next time. ”
“Understood, Coach.”
He thought I was just looking out for the guys. I nodded and kept my mouth shut. My mind flashed to the previous game, to Karter hitting the boards. The violence that followed had been automatic. I didn’t beat that guy up for the team.
I did it because of Karter.
Stepping out of the tunnel and onto the ice felt like waking up. The cold air hit my lungs. I skated to my position and let the noise of the crowd fade out. Karter was on my shift. I tracked his jersey by pure instinct. He skated with a fluid, easy speed.
Every time an opposing defenseman got too close to him, my grip tightened on my stick. I could not put my hands on Karter out here. I could not shove him against a wall like I did in the van. So I took my frustrations out on the other team.
I turned the game ugly. I hit people strictly to feel the impact in my own bones. Every time I drove a guy into the glass, it was an excuse to burn off the desperate energy I had bottled up since last night. And while I stayed just shy of a penalty, I made sure the other team felt every single hit.
When the final buzzer sounded, the scoreboard flashed our win.
The arena erupted. Guys spilled over the boards to celebrate.
I grabbed Perez and joined the pile, searching the crowd of helmets until I spotted Karter.
By the time we dragged ourselves off the ice and headed for the back, my body was exhausted.
Noise bounced off the concrete walls as my teammates celebrated the tournament win all around me. I dropped onto the bench and tried to clear my head. Yet it was impossible when Karter was sitting just a few stalls away.
He kept worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he worked the laces of his skates loose. Eventually, I had to look away before I stared too long, pulling the sweaty tape off my hands just to keep them busy.
Perez stepped up to me, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Man, what a game, eh? You were a terror out there.”
“I did my job.”
“Your job.” Perez snorted. He chewed his gum twice, fast, then pointed at my shoulder with his chin. “That hit on their center in the second period was a felony. Pretty sure he’s still picking himself up.”
“He was in my lane.”
“You weren’t even on his side of the rink, bro. You skated across two lines just to lay him out.”
“Somebody had to.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been...” Perez tapped his chin. “What’s the word? Extra. You’ve been extra all weekend. Like someone pissed in your cereal right before every shift.”
I chuckled. “Maybe I just like hitting people.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, still bouncing on his toes. “I’ve seen you like hitting people. This was different. This was personal.” A grin spread wide across his face. “You got a girl you’re trying to impress or something?”
“Just focused.”
“Focused,” Perez repeated the word like he was tasting it. “Right. Focused.” He stopped bouncing.
His gaze dropped to my open palm before I could curl my fingers inward. The tape I’d wrapped around my hand had loosened during the game, and the gauze underneath had shifted.
Perez pointed, still grinning. “Woah. Is that from a puck or a girl?”
The teeth marks had scabbed over, a messy crescent of broken skin already fading at the edges. Karter had left it there on the bus.
My face remained blank. “Hooked up with a chick at that bar. She got a bit rough.”
“A bit rough?” Perez grabbed my wrist and tilted my hand toward the fluorescent lights, squinting at the mark. “Bro, this looks like she tried to take a chunk out of you. What did you even say to her?”
I grinned. “Nothing she didn’t like.”
Perez let out a short laugh, but the sound died fast. He stopped bouncing. Those sharp eyes drifted across the noisy room, past the row of stalls, and landed on Karter. The stare held a second too long.
Turning back to me, his grin had thinned to almost nothing. “Yeah, I mean... just make sure it doesn’t get too rough, man.”
His tone put me instantly on edge.
My muscles tightened with a sudden rush of anger at the implication, because I did not need Perez monitoring me or trying to figure out my personal shit.
I glared at the floor and fought the urge to snap at him. I couldn’t read his mind to know if he was suspicious or just making a bad joke, but the idea of anyone watching me that closely made my skin crawl.
I grabbed my clothes and got dressed as fast as possible to escape the tension. The hallway outside the locker room was freezing, and the strap of my bag dug into my shoulder.
Fans were still cheering upstairs over the win. The sound brought a wave of pure relief crashing over me. Earning a real pro salary and leaving my old life behind was within reach.
A guy in a tailored suit blocked my way to the parking lot. I shifted my weight and took him in with a quick scan.
He had a sharp gaze and the steady confidence of someone holding all the cards. His clipboard and lanyard marked him as being on official business. The AHC logo on that lanyard stood for the American Hockey Circuit, a minor league where guys actually got paid to play.
“Zotov,” the man said, offering his hand. “Gavin Phillips. Good game today.”
I shifted my bag and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“You play a tough game,” Phillips assessed me from head to toe. “And we like your physicality. You don’t back down from a hit. That’s exactly what we need on the roster.”
“That’s my job on the ice,” I said. I met his gaze head-on and braced myself.
“I will get straight to the point,” Phillips said. “We have a roster spot opening up on our Iowa affiliate next season. It comes with a standard entry-level AHC contract. We like your size and the aggressive game you play.”
An entry-level contract meant an actual salary. It meant pulling my mother out of her double shifts and finally getting out of Detroit. I forced my expression to stay blank and nodded. “I could be a good fit for Iowa.”
“You would,” Phillips agreed. “But we also saw the tape of your ejection yesterday.”
The fallout from my violent anger was already here. I played the role of the dedicated team guy perfectly and kept my voice even. “I was defending a teammate.”
“Well, we are willing to overlook it as a one-time thing,” Phillips said. “You protect your guys. I respect that. But we need players who can keep their noses clean.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Phillips leaned in a little closer. “I need you to hear me clearly. An entry-level contract is a trial run. If you step out of line again, on or off the rink, you are off our draft board entirely.”
“It will not happen again.”
“No scandals. Keep your head down, Zotov,” he said.
“You do not have to worry about me,” I told him.
Karter crossed through the hallway in the background right as Phillips finished speaking. My gaze snapped to him automatically. Seeing him out there looking so clean and unaffected messed with my head.
The memory of the team van resurfaced. Just twelve hours ago, I had him pinned beneath me. And I could still hear the desperate sounds he made while my fingers gripped his hair.
Phillips patted my arm, pulling my attention back. “See that you keep it that way. Have a good night.”
“Good night,” I said.
I watched Phillips disappear into the parking lot before the reality of his warning sank in.
A scandal with someone like Karter would kill my draft chances.
If even one rumor got out about what we did, that contract would be snatched away.
It was incredibly stupid to risk everything for a guy from a different world.
Panic tightened my chest and forced my legs to move.
I needed physical distance from Karter, so I pushed through the crowded hallway and stepped out into the cold night.
The team bus was already rumbling near the curb while the guys loaded their bags.
I hung back by the doors to watch the team file inside.
Karter boarded a few moments later with a guy I recognized as his freshman roommate trailing behind him.
I averted my gaze from him, waiting until he settled into the back rows before I climbed aboard and chose a seat three rows ahead of him.
The bus rumbled down the highway. I made sure to sit back and drape my arm over the empty seat. Keeping up a wall of swagger was the only way to hide my actual thoughts from the rest of the guys.
“Did you see their defense crumble in the third, man?” Perez asked.
“They stopped skating,” I told him casually. “That big defenseman completely gave up.”