Chapter 8
Willow Rogers
“ W ho’s afraid of little old me? You should be,”
The lyrics pound in my ears as my calloused fingers play with the hemline of my jersey. Thirteen–my favourite number–stitched into the front and back. Wearing a different jersey after years of donning the same colours feels weird, yet I find solace in it.
The Lakewood Hawks’ jersey is predominantly white, while the numbers are red with a black outline.
My pre-game routine hasn’t changed, despite, playing for a new team. Taylor Swift filtering through my ears, along with other upbeat power anthems to set the mood.
Nerves can grab hold of me before games, causing nausea to rule my body. It’s a terrible feeling and the more intense it grows, harder to becomes to shake.
I breathe in, inhaling the sweat and a tinge of my lavender perfume. The latter of which won’t last after I hit the ice. Everyone is sitting in their wooden cubby in the locker room, with many of my teammates fixing their equipment. I’m doing the same, tightening the laces on my skates.
The team migrates toward the middle of the room, forming an open circle in front of the coaches.
“Here we are, at the first game of the season. I know there are some nerves and excitement, but I believe in every single one of you.” Coach West says. “There is a long road ahead, so let’s take this game on and sort out our new combinations.”
Coach Harris takes over to inform us who is in the first line. “Toby: goalkeeper, Jayden: centre, Hayes: left defence, Conner: right defence, Aiden: left wing and Willow: right wing.”
Shivers shoot up my spine, a smile forming on my lips. I fight the urge to jump up and down with fucking joy. I’m starting during my first game for Lakewood. I didn’t see this coming, thinking I would be part of the second line.
Jayden did say during training that I was a chance to start but I didn’t believe him. Sam stands across from me with a bright smile. My brows furrow. Why is he happy that I stole his starting spot?
We grab our sticks on the way out of the locker room, walking through the tunnel and into Lakewood Arena. I’m third in line, behind Aiden and Jayden, who as captain leads us onto the ice.
The arena is packed, our home crowd coming out to support us in spades. Only three rows behind our bench sits Jaz, Theo and Cami. My best friend and sister jump to their feet, waving and yelling my name like crazy people.
I laugh, enjoying the happiness that settles throughout my body. In Nevada, I hated home games. With no one to support me, the sport can become lonely.
A continuous whistle draws my attention to the ice. All of us who are starting take our places, I’m on the right of Jayden and standing on the edge of the blue circle. Aiden mirrors my spot on the left side of the ice.
A yellow jersey appears in my peripheral vision, forcing me to look up. We are playing the Michigan Ravens, who narrowly lost their regional semi-final last season.
They will be a tough opponent but I watched some of their games yesterday and it seems they go out hard and fast but tire towards the end.
I look around the ice to see the final players from Michigan taking their spots, ready for the face-off. I suck in a deep breath, gripping my stick harder. I steady myself, anticipation nipping at my heart as I wait for the puck to drop.
The puck clatters against the ice, everyone acts instantly. Bodies collide, winning the puck being the priority. The opposing centre taps the puck and it speeds across the ice to his winger.
Hayes is into the action straight away, stealing the puck.
I skate behind the goal we are defending, drawing defenders with me.
Aiden glides past me and I quickly offload to him, confusing our opposition for a moment.
That split second is crucial, providing Aiden the chance to pass the puck to Jayden.
I move up the left side of the ice with a Raven’s player following me. My gaze falls onto Jayden, who is about to be body checked. He shoots the puck toward goal, despite the pressure.
With the opposition shadowing me, I push myself harder and reach the puck first. Number six from the Raven checks me, a dull ache forming in my shoulder but that doesn’t stop me. Without deviating, I flick the puck and watch it slide straight into the goal.
Jayden skates to me. “Good goal, Rogers. Ready to go again?”
I smirk. “Always.”
***
T he buzzer echoes in the arena as Toby blocks the Raven’s last-ditch attempt to score.
My chest rises, elation coursing through my tired and incredibly sore body. Everyone on the ice skates over to our goalie, congratulating him on the save. Winning the first game four to one is the perfect start to a season.
I skate off the ice, following the boys down the wide corridor and into the locker. Once our helmets are off, I can fully appreciate the smiles plastered on everyone’s face.
Winning is intoxicating–I strive to have this feeling invade me whenever I take the ice. I’m a true competitor, so winning is always the cherry on top.
I ditch my hockey sticks and gloves, before I pull skates off. Placing them into my duffle bag, I turn my attention back to Coach West. He has what I could only call a proud fatherly smile lighting up his face.
“Well done, everyone. Although there are a couple things we need to work on, it was a great game for being the first game of the season and our first time with Willow.” Coach West says.
Coach West and Harris continue to debrief the game, highlighting our strengths but also the moments we could have been better in. Eventually, he dismisses us to the showers.
“Great game, Willow,” Sam says in his usual cheery tone. “Your backhand shot was incredible.”
My heart strings tug at the compliment, heat rushing to my face. “Thank you, I’ve worked on it a lot.”
Sam and I continue chatting until we arrive in the showers. My eyes immediately catch the stall at the end of the room. I pick up my pace until I’m standing in front of a boxed off shower.
Coach West was right when he said no one will be able to look inside. The white stall door starts from the floor and ends at least two feet above my head.
Tears pick the corner of my eyes, so I force myself inside the stall. I will not cry in front of these boys. Locking the door, I place my duffle bag on the wooden bench and strip my clothes off.
Usually, I would be racing out of the showers with my towel, but I don’t have to worry about that anymore.
I’ve been at Lakewood for two months, and it’s become more of a home than Nevada ever was.
I practically moan when the water hits my skin, the pressure hitting exactly where I need it.
The tension melts from my muscles as I scrub my body, wincing at the bruises on my arms and ribs.
When hockey season begins after a large break of no contact, I forget about the pain that comes with the game.
Turning off the shower, I dry off and change into my maroon coloured, game day suit. It’s more of a jumpsuit, but it fits me perfectly.
No one told me otherwise, but I know they had it made for me. In the past, I wore suits that were men’s size, which did not fit me at all.
I braid my hair, not wanting it to completely soak my shirt. I brace myself as I leave the locker room, expecting to see some very naked men. I’m frozen in place for a second, looking around to find I’m the only one left in the showers.
Weird, but I won’t complain about it. I head to the locker room, wanting to know what the suspicious looks between Cooper and Sam meant after the game. All they said was to meet in the locker room and the vague comment spiked my curiosity, so here I am.
“Finally!” Cooper says at my presence. “Okay, let’s go back home. Party at the Hockey House.”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m in. Our first win together deserves a celebration.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cooper says.
My eyes wander to Jayden, who looks less enthused than everyone else but he doesn’t say anything. I push him from my brain as we all leave the stadium. I want a night of fun with no thoughts of Jayden Allen.
***
I drown what I believe is my fifth shot of the night, slamming the glass back onto the table.
The alcohol burns my throat, but it eases the tension from the muscles in my body. Unlike other players, I don’t believe in limiting my alcohol intake to zero during the season.
I’m the type of person who needs to let myself lose control every once and a while, otherwise I tend to go off the rails. I’ve always been the wild child, but when men started to believe they could dominate me, I truly embraced the chaotic energy.
The only relationship I ever had was with a manipulative piece of shit. Apparently, I am attracted to red flags because that didn’t stop me from fucking one of my teammates either.
Argh. Even the thought of that asshole brings a bitter taste to my mouth. Music and cheers pound in my ears and I stumble slightly as I look for my cup. I thought I was holding it, maybe I put it down when I picked up my last shot?
I turn quickly, colliding with a hard chest. I sway on my feet as hands wrap around my wrists and drag me away from the kitchen. The music fades slightly, while I focus on the person in front of me.
Jayden.
“What the…hell?” I slur.
Okay. I'm way drunker than I thought I was.
“What the fuck are you doing, Willow?”
Jayden’s harsh tone forces me to rear back. My teeth grind against each other, nostrils flaring. I rip my hands away from Jayden, not wanting our skin to touch. The quick action causes the floor to shift beneath me and I come close to losing my footing but Jayden catches me again.
I look up, meeting his eyes and remember that I'm angry at him. “Me? Why did you drag me away?”
“You’re on your seventh vodka shot, plus drinking five of whatever was in your cup.”
The wide hallway is consumed by shadows, while purple and red flashing lights linger out the corner of my eye, stretching from the dining room. The porch light casts a beam over Jayden’s face, subjecting me to seeing his usual scowl and sculptured jaw.
Why do I find him attractive? It must be the alcohol.
“Caught your attention, did I? Well, I’m not interested, go find a girl who cares.”
“This isn’t going to fly for the whole season. You need to stop drinking. In fact, I’m cutting you off right now.”
Red blinds my vision, my lungs working overtime to suck in oxygen. Fuck him. And not in the fun way.
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?”
“I’m the fucking captain, so I can control what you do.”
Control. Control. Control.
That fucking word live rent free in my mind. I hate it. Sweat drips from every crevice of me, as I search for anything to keep me grounded. I can’t revisit the past. I don’t want his coercive words taunting my mind or running my life for longer than he already did.
My muscles tighten, Jayden’s words sinking in. Tears prick the corner of my eyes, the mask that conceals the wounds underneath my skin, slowly slips away. Fingertips press against my damp cheek and I flinch.
I step back. I need to…I. My lungs constrict and–
“Willow. What’s going on? You’re shaking.” Jayden’s whispers, concern lingering in his tone.
I link my fingers together, willing the shaking to stop. Why does he care? He yelled at me. I push past Jayden, sparing one last glance at him before bolting up the stairs. My name being yelled from the bottom floor is drowned out by the music playing on the other side of the house.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
The last person I need to see me like this– like I’m being pulled apart by the fucking seams is Jayden.
After entering my room, I slip into my pyjamas and wash my face. I stare in the mirror, unable to look away from my bloodshot eyes. My lethargic body doesn’t hold me up any longer, collapsing onto my bed. Sliding the covers over my body, I push Jayden and the past out of my mind.
I can't let their words get to me.