27. Lucas
Chapter twenty-seven
Lucas
W alking up to Laur’s house, I notice small little things poking out from the grass. When I take a closer look, I realize they are broken plastic forks. Someone forked their house. How fucking weird.
The front door opens with a creak, Laur mentioned she’d leave it open for me when I asked if I could come say ‘Hi’ before I head to practice.
“Laur,” I call walking into the empty kitchen.
My eyes flicker with surprise when I hear the ice rattle in my coffee from my hand shaking.
My nerves are in full force today with the announcement of alternate captains after practice.
I thought seeing Laur would help calm me, but based on how jittery I am, I doubt anything will.
“Good morning!” Laur warmly greets me as she sprints down the stairs. The second she walks into the kitchen, she throws her arms around my neck and presses her lips to mine fervently.
“You might not be that happy to see me once I tell you what’s outside your house,” I mumble against her soft lips.
A crease forms between her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”
A heavy sigh slips out. Hoping to soften the news, I hand her the iced coffee. “Laur, your house has been forked.”
Confusion still lingers on her face. “What do you mean forked?”
Running my hand through my hair, I elaborate, "Someone put plastic forks in it and broke off the handles so they are hard to get out. It’s just a stupid prank. It doesn’t harm the lawn. ”
Her eyes widen, and she puts her head in her hands, “This is the second time this week someone’s done something to our house.”
Waiting on her to explain, I take her coffee off the counter and take a sip.
“We got egged,” she mumbles into her hands, her voice hushed.
“Seriously?” My jaw tightens with frustration. Why didn’t she tell me when it happened? And who the hell would egg her house.
As if reading my mind, she adds, “We don’t know who it was and cleaned it up right away.”
“If something else happens, you should call the police,” I suggest.
Laur looks up at me, taking the coffee straight from my hand, “That’s not something I feel like dealing with.” She takes a long sip of coffee. “I have enough on my plate. The new girls will be here tomorrow.”
“Just tell me if anything else happens at least?” I pull her into a hug, hoping to ease her tension despite my anxiety probably being twenty times worse than hers. Today might be the first day in a long time that I don’t want to go to practice.
Her head nods against my chest.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she mumbles into my chest.
“I’ve got to get to practice.” I kiss her forehead before pulling away. “Some of the guys and I can help clean up the forks later tonight.”
“Hey.” She grabs my hand to stop me from leaving. “At the end of the day, Coach Andres made the decision, not you.” She places her hands on either side of my face. “The team votes also backed up Blaine, don’t be so stressed.”
“You got this, Captain.” She smiles at me, before planting a soft kiss on my lips and letting go of my face. “Try to enjoy practice.”
Like always, she’s right. On the plus side, I don’t have to make the announcement myself; Coach will do it.
When I’m about a few blocks away from the arena, I veer off into a side street to find a bench or quiet place to try to meditate and clear my mind. Our house was rowdy this morning and I couldn’t concentrate with the noise of the boys chirping at each other.
Finally finding a bench, I sit down, closing my eyes lightly, breathing in deeply and letting out a massive sigh full of my anxiety. Thumbing through my phone, I find my free mediation app and press play. Calming chimes and a peaceful voice take over the music in my headphones.
Closing my eyes again, I try to focus only on the guide’s soothing voice and let the world melt away.
Someone rapidly taps on my shoulder. My eyes open to Tyler’s narrowed gaze and knitted brow starting down at me. Fucking great. The last person I want to see right now. Is he going to avoid me at all costs once he finds out he isn’t alternate captain?
“Dude, what are you doing?” Tyler asks.
Flustered, I mutter something about a voicemail, abruptly getting up.
“I’ll deal with it later,” I mumble and walk off towards the arena.
Tyler quickly catches up to me, but I keep my headphones in. We silently walk side by side to the arena. Guess I won’t get in my meditation before practice, and I really needed it today more than I have in a while.
The locker room buzzes with conversation when we enter.
“Donato, could have used your pressure on the ice before practice,” Mitchell calls to me. “Mind if we grab some time next week?”
Since my stomach has been doing flips since Coach solidified his decision and knowing he would announce captains today, I didn’t come to practice early for once.
“Sure thing, Mitchell,” I reply with a curt nod, ready for practice to be over before it even started .
Mitchell gives me a wide grin. “Appreciate it.” He taps me on the back before exiting the locker room.
His dedication compared to last season is a complete one-eighty. But if it helps the team, I’m in no place to question it.
Thankfully, I only had some sips of Laur’s iced coffee for breakfast; my stomach knots deepen during drills. I almost lose my grip on my stick more than once from my clammy hands. I really need to pull it together before someone notices.
Before we start scrimmaging, Coach demands every player go back into the locker room.
“I know you are all chomping at the bit to know who the alternate captains are,” Coach Andres’ deep voice booms. My heartbeat races like a car around the tracks at Daytona. He isn’t supposed to make this announcement until the end of practice.
“The team and coaching staff all seemed to unanimously agree on the same two players.” He continues, his eyes falling on me. “Congratulations, Keith Hall and Blaine Mitchell.”
Cheers and praise fill the locker room. Finding Keith, I give him a firm handshake. Chuckling, Keith pulls me into a hug.
“You deserve it, brother.” I congratulate him, giving him an excited pat on the back.
The celebrations are short lived as Coach yells at everyone to hurry back to the ice. I can’t seem to find Mitchell to commend his success too. Looking around the almost empty locker room, my eyes fall on Tyler, his eyes outrageous slits.
“Look, Tyler,” I start toward him, but he furiously storms out of the locker room, hitting my shoulder with his.
Rubbing my shoulder, disappointment replaces the anxiety in my gut. Every time he makes a stupid decision, he just reassures me I made the right one recommending Blaine over him.
Once I’m back in the arena, I see Blaine already on the ice skating with Ryder. He catches my eye, and a smile beaming with pride takes over his face as he nods in thanks at me .
Our scrimmage starts off smoothly. Coach hasn’t switched up lines much, Ryder and Blaine always running the ice together. Blaine impressively wins almost every faceoff he takes, while Ryder swiftly finds his passes. But no goals are scored in the first portion.
“Donato,” Coach Andres calls, “Switch lines with Hardy, I want to see you play with Ryder and Blaine.”
Taking over the faceoff, I protect the puck and pass it back to Mitchell, who is ready and waiting.
He skates up the ice, making a flawless pass to Ryder, who’s wide open but quickly swarmed by the other team’s defense.
Panicking, Ryder snaps the puck back to me.
My heart races when my eyes find the opportunity to shoot.
Winding my stick back, my slap shot hits the puck but it’s deflected by Keith.
Blaine is quick on the deflection, taking control of the puck, skating behind the net and tipping the puck across the line with a beautiful wrist shot.
A blur comes at Blaine out of nowhere, knocking him to the ground.
“Tyler, what the fuck?” Ryder shouts, moving quickly to get Tyler off of Blaine. My skates carry me toward them, ready to intervene but Keith beats me to it, helping Ryder restrain Tyler.
Trickles of blood fall to the ice from Blaine’s now split lip.
“Barret, my office!” Coach barks. Each of his words is louder than the last. “Practice is over.”
In a protective stance, I stand in front of Blaine until Tyler is off the ice, then offer Blaine a hand to help him up.
“I’m good,” he mutters, touching his lip and inspecting the blood that comes away.
“He’s just pissed he’s not alternate captain,” Ryder says, skating up to him.
“Ryder’s right,” I murmur.
“It’s no big deal,” Blaine grumbles. “I’ve punched plenty of people. Probably my karma.”
He chuckles and skates off the ice with Ryder by his side.
Tyler has every right to be pissed, but taking it out on Blaine is a fucking stupid move. Even though he might be one of the strongest players, I can’t help but hope Coach benches him for at least two games.
I feel bad for Blaine. He doesn’t deserve Tyler’s wrath. Last year, no one tried to beat the shit out of anyone when alternates were announced. An unexpected thought comes to me.
“Party at my house tomorrow night to celebrate the new alternate captains,” I shout as soon as I walk through the locker room doors. I might not be a partier, but Keith and Blaine deserve a celebration.