Chapter 27
KANE’S SHADOW
The Locker Room
Kane’s Shadow
I send it off hoping she’ll catch on to my role-play. It’s a minute before she responds.
Shadow: Shouldn’t your eyes be… oh I don’t know… on a puck?
I mean, yeah. I’d like to see the damn puck, but apparently, we needed a freaking light show during warmups tonight. So I could barely see a damn thing. And the one thing I wanted to see—is Isla in one of my seats.
Kane19: How can my eyes be anywhere else when I know you’re here?
Okay, so maybe that’s cheating. But I have to know if she’s here.
Shadow: Fine. I’m wearing jeans, a sweater. And a cocky smirk.
Kane19: Yeah about that, can I have it back?
Shadow: The smirk? It looks better on me.
Kane19: Probably true.
I wait a beat before asking…
Kane19: See you soon?
Shadow has left the locker room
I shake my head with a chuckle and stand, navigating back to the main page to watch the messages as they come through.
CandyKane: Sending eternal love.
Josh93: This’ll be a no brainer, Cap.
Puckgirl: Y’all always win in my heart.
KanesCrush: I’ll sign a prenup.
“Two minutes,” Coach calls, eyeing me. “Andrews, head in the game.”
I exhale.
Come on. Sunshine. You got this.
Messages on my fan page have slowed down a bit since there’s a misconception around campus that I’ve got a girlfriend now. It’s making Isla wary, and I’m afraid she’s close to asking me to stop hearting Shadow’s messages, since we’ve been seen together around campus.
But I refuse to live in fear because of what others think. And Shadow—I mean Isla, needs to come out of that too.
That…might be the biggest challenge of all.
Another message comes through. Then another. Neither from her.
My jaw locks and I swallow hard.
Why am I suddenly doubting her? Expecting her to disappoint me? To walk away from all this.
My vision blurs. I blink hard, drawing in a steady breath as another message lights up my screen.
My breath is knocked out of me.
Not because of what she says. But because she came through.
Shadow: Three for three, Captain.
I steal my smirk back, taking her message in for a moment.
Yeah. I can do that.
Glancing up I catch the last of my team hustle out of the room and drop my phone on my bag.
“Let’s move.”
I make it around the corner toward the tunnel behind the rest before I stop cold.
Shit. I forgot to heart it.
My palms press against the concrete wall, debating if I have enough time—or if I better let it wait until after first period.
My mother’s face comes to mind as she rolls her eyes. “Just a silly distraction from the game.”
Shit. She’s right. I’m the captain of my team and I’m considering being late for puck drop to heart a message.
I’m either out of my mind or obsessed.
Hell if I know the difference right now.
Hunter glances back and it’s almost in slow motion as he nods. Checking on me.
I step out onto the ice.
One breath.
Then another.
My pulse is too fast, and it isn’t the adrenaline.
It’s my mother. She’s in Isla’s seat. Granted, Isla’s yet to sit in it, but it’s still hers. Richard is next to her, clapping casually like this is a regular thing for him.
Nausea hits as I struggle to get it together.
I feel like I’ve let Shadow and my team down by not putting the game first.
When the whole damn reason for this app is to get me pumped for it.
Three for three, Captain.
A vision of Isla that first day I saw her in the stands flashes in my head. How far she’s come in the last month from racing toward the exit. To letting me know how many times she wants me to make her come tonight. And daring me to make it happen.
Two minutes later, the puck hits the ice and I win the draw cleanly.
Normally, that alone is enough to settle me when I’m feeling out of bounds.
Tonight, it’s just another thing my body does while I try to keep my head in the game.
Hunter rims it around the boards. Leman catches and sends it deep into the offensive zone. I chase it down, absorb a hit, kick the puck loose, and send it back to Hunter at the blue line.
Everything is happening exactly the way Coach drew it up…I just can’t seem to catch up.
A minute later, the puck skips over my stick. I race after it, but their defense beats me to the corner. “Dammit.”
Twenty-seven skates by wearing that same smug grin from warmups. “Your name just about all you get from Daddy?”
I don’t bite.
Because if I do, I’m getting two minutes in the sin bin.
But Cole does. Must’ve heard every word because he barrels in from my blind side, grabs a fistful of twenty-seven’s jersey, and drives a right hook straight into him. The guy stumbles back before dropping his gloves.
Too late buddy.
The linesmen are already between them, whistles screaming. Cole heads to the penalty box with a satisfied grin.
Hunter skates by with a chuckle. “That kid seriously scares me.”
Three shifts later, the opposing team scores.
And all I can think about is that my three goals just got a lot harder.
Fuck.
A harmless-looking shot from the blue line catches Ronan’s skate in front of the net and flutters under Grey’s blocker.
The red light flashes and their student section erupts.
I tap my stick against the boards once before hopping over for the next line.
My teammates barely look my way.
“Where the fuck are you tonight, Andrews?” Coach growls.
With five minutes left in the period, I get another shift and fumble a routine play behind our net.
My heart pounds and my frustration grows.
“What the fuck man, I thought she sent it. What’s going on?” Hunter asks.
“It’s just a superstition. Focus on the game,” I call back.
“You’re telling me?”
The horn finally sounds. Fuck, I hate when it’s a relief.
I skate straight for the tunnel without looking toward the stands.
I reach for my phone as soon as I get to my stall in the locker room, immediately opening the messages waiting for me on the screen.
Isla: Bree says I’m not allowed to bring my book to games.
Isla: Glad I didn’t listen.
A rough laugh slips out. I type, erase, then type again.
Me: I want your eyes back on me in ten.
Isla: You want me to keep watching this?
Me: I didn’t heart Shadow’s message.
Isla: That’s what this is about?
Me: Partly.
Isla: Does the other part have to do with Cruella DeVille sitting in my seat?
This time my laugh is loud enough to catch Cole’s attention. He scowls again.
Me: It does. You alright otherwise?
Isla: I will be. Getting to the good part in my book.
Me: Text it to me.
My phone is dead silent for a long moment.
Me: I mean here. Not on the app, crazy.
Isla: Oh…umm…okay hold on.
She sends over a photo of an excerpt a moment later and I’m no fool. I know she went digging for it, not actively reading it.
I zoom in and quickly scan it. Daaamn. This is what she’s reading? I’ve never been a fan of porn—written or visual. It needs to be the real thing to turn me on. But I can totally get on board with this.
Especially when she’s giving me an idea of what she wants. And it makes me remember an earlier message from Shadow—before I even met her.
I’ve been a bad girl. Deal with it.
Shit. How did I miss that one up until now?
Me: Eh. I read one earlier I liked a whole lot better.
Isla: Prove it. And not with a heart, smartass.
Me: Sit where I can see you
The dots disappear.
For a second, I think I pushed too far.
Isla: Bossy
Me: Just you wait
Isla: Will there be something worth watching?
Me: Ouch.
Isla: Sorry. It’s the phone. You know how unfiltered it can make me.
Me: Nice try.
The funny thing is, it’s the truth. Isla is much more open behind her phone.
And if it takes all year, I’m going to crack that alter ego right out for everyone to meet. Because as much as I love having her all to myself, it wouldn’t be fair to the world.
Me: But yeah, I know.
Grey looks over. “There he is.”
“What?”
“You’re smiling.”
Cole pokes his head up, then shakes it. “Nah, that’s blushing.”
Isla: You’re still my favorite player.
It’s an absolute relief after Cole freaking Leman introduced himself, then laid down the locker room rule with the team when it comes to keeping her identity within these walls.
If I thought I could walk away without a scratch, I’d have leveled the guy afterward. But I’m not that brave.
I stare at my screen.
She has absolutely no idea.
No idea what she just did with a few snarky text messages.
As herself, not Shadow.
From wherever the hell she is in the crowd.
Coach claps his hands. “Heads up. They’ve got two goals.” He points toward the door. “We’ve got forty minutes. Get the fuck out there and use ‘em right.”
Second period starts in our favor. I cut hard toward the middle, pulling the defense with me. Hunter slips into the space I leave behind.
Perfect.
I swipe the puck across and he buries it.
Another pass and I nail it into the net, tying the game in the middle of third.
“Fuck yeah!”
The building comes alive.
Not because I scored.
Because I remembered who I am. And it’s not who someone keeps reminding me I’m not.
I skate by our section and hold up two fingers for her to see. It seems our student section is onto me because they cheer hard. Some holding up an index finger. Reminding me I’ve got one more.
Coach has me catching my breath after another long shift, and I’m slumped against the boards, one glove resting on the top of my stick while my heartbeat pounds.
I watch as Hunter takes the puck through the neutral zone, weaving between two defenders. One fake-out. A sharp cut inside. Their defense must be asleep.
He isn’t.
He winds his stick and snaps it past the goalie before anyone can blink.
The arena explodes.
My excitement is short-lived when I realize I’m one goal short and there’s three minutes left.
“Coach, I’m good.”
He nods and I get back on the ice.