I was smashed up against the plexiglass, and threw an elbow back, pushing the guy off me. He grunted. “You’re toast, Styles. We gonna burn your ass up.” The ref hit his whistle, skating over, waving to the penalty box.
It was a good call, but the crowd booed.
“Whatever.”
“Penalty!” The ref went over to identify the actual call, but the guy, number 25, was already heading to the box.
Labrowski came over. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I turned to glare. It was our opposing team’s enforcer who’d come after me. He’d been going at me hard all night long, ever since Atwater went after their team’s lead scorer. Tit for tat, but I was getting sick of it.
“You good?” The ref came back, and I nodded, my ego more bruised than anything. He gave a nod and headed back to where he’d drop the puck. “Let’s play then.”
Labrowski patted my shoulder pad, nodding to the bench. “Line change.”
Fuck. It was early, but we headed over, jumping in as the others climbed over the wall and got onto the ice. The game was going a few seconds later. “Styles.” Atwater tossed me a water. I caught it as I sat down, squeezing the bottle, the water spraying through the cage and into my mouth.
The coach came over, leaning down. “How are you doing?”
I eyed him, giving him a quick nod. “I’m fine.”
“He’s been going at you all night.”
I was aware. “I’m good, Coach.”
He gave another brisk nod before moving on, hitting me briefly on the shoulder with his coach’s tablet. Atwater sat in the space he just cleared out of and bent forward. “Don’t worry. Keys’ got your back.”
Our enforcer and his enforcer. They’d been trading their targets all night long. Sometimes we didn’t use our enforcer, but tonight was a different matter. The whole game was worse than the others, but Sacramento’s team was living up to their reputation. They were rough and liked to fight dirty.
Rules were stricter in college than in the NHL, but these refs didn’t seem aware of that. They were letting too much go.
We were in our third period. They were trying to go hard on me this first game, tire me out for the second game. I gritted my teeth, knowing I couldn’t let it work.
“Go!” It was time for another line change.
The third line went out. We had the fourth still, and then it’d be my turn.
A few minutes later, we were on the ice.
I didn’t wait around.
Skating over, I stole the puck and off I went. The harder they went at me, the harder I played. I needed to remind them of that fact.
Keys went to the left wing so I used his shield, moved around to their center. Around their center. Their defense was coming up, and I zipped around one, back through, and there was an opening.
Labrowski was behind me.
I deflected, hoping he’d catch this fast enough.
I feigned with my stick, but tapped the puck back with my skate, right to Labrowski, and GOAL!
He saw my pass, having seen it eighteen other times this season.
The goalie had moved with me, so the goal was wide open.
The light lit up, and as I was circling behind the net, their enforcer was glaring at me.
I glared right back.
Two minutes later, the end of the game sounded.
We’d won, by our teeth.
My phone rang as I was walking into the hotel. I’d stayed late for an extra soak and rubdown. I needed it. The coach told me to head in earlier the next morning for another one. I’d need that too, though the most I needed right now was sleep.
Still, I answered, going to the corner and sinking down in a chair. “Hey, Mom.”
“How are you feeling?” She was chirpy, but concerned.
I winced. “My body feels like a lump of blue cheese, all curdled up into one big bruise.”
“Blue cheese?”
I sank lower in my chair. “Blue cheese.”
“He really went after you tonight.”
“We’re nearing playoffs. It’s expected.”
“I watch your games, Cruz. The other teams aren’t like this one.”
I was just so tired. My head felt heavy, and I rested back, closing my eyes. “I know, but I can’t do anything except not let them win.”
“They’re trying to slow you down for tomorrow’s game.”
“Yeah.”
She was quiet on her end for a beat. “I can’t give you any advice, so I’m just going to tell you that I love you, Cruz. I have your back. Titi too.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you too. How’s Titi?”
She was quiet again.
I sat up, some of the tiredness starting to fade. “Mom?”
“Oh.” She laughed, a little abruptly and cut herself off. “Sorry. I–I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you or when to tell you, but–”
I sat farther up. “Mom? What’s going on with Titi?”
“Nothing like that. She’s–she’s perfect. She’s fine. But Sabrina Burford reached out.”
“What?” I clipped out. “She has no reason to be reaching out.”
“Well, that’s not totally true, Cruz.” My mom was speaking in her mom-voice, all authoritative. “She expressed that she wants to make amends to Titi.”
“She’s got no–” I growled.
“She does, Cruz. She was in the car too–”
I shoved up from my chair and began pacing. “Yeah. She was in the car. She didn’t stop–”
“You know how Sissy could be.”
“I don’t like this, Mom. I don’t want Burford anywhere near Titi. She–”
“Titi’s asked about her.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “What?”
This shit, right here.
I kept it separate. No one knew. Burford hadn’t talked when she came to college, but why would she? It wasn’t exactly a shining moment of glory for her, and the only other guy from our school was a science nerd but we’d never crossed paths. We didn’t come from a large town, though I knew there were others who might’ve known. If I got into the NHL, one day this would get out, but when they saw Titi, I hoped the sight of her would stop any reporter from going forward with the story.
“She saw her at your game, and she asked about Sissy’s friend. I…” A sob slipped out from her, her voice choking up. “I don’t have it in me to lie to her. No matter anything that’s happened, Titi still adores her big sister.”
My other sister. The reason Titi was in her wheelchair.
“Mom.” I sank back down to my chair, sitting on the edge. “I told Sabrina to stay away from both of you. She shouldn’t have reached out.”
“That’s not your place.”
“Mom–”
“Listen.”
I knew my mom. I didn’t need to see her to know that she was wiping the tears from her face as she forced out her take-charge Mom tone, a whole resolved look coming over her. What she said meant business, and I needed to pay attention.
She said further, “I’ve decided to let Titi see her, or let Sabrina see Titi. I talked to her on the phone. She is apologetic, but she always was back then. We–me–I couldn’t handle hearing her out back then. Not that I had any anger or blame for her, but the pain was too much to go through at the time. I’ve come a long ways now, and Titi is asking. I wanted you to know so you weren’t blindsided, but she’s driving here tomorrow. She’s going to have lunch with us.”
“Mom, don’t do this.”
“I think she just needs to apologize to Titi herself. The girl sounded tortured on the phone. I–I don’t want anyone to be like that.”
“Don’t–”
“Enough, Cruz. I’ve made up my mind.” She added quickly, softening, “I love you, honey. You played a great game tonight. I know you’ll do just as amazing tomorrow.”
“Mom–”
She ended the call. Goddammit.
Fucking Burford. I told her to stay away.
I went through my phone and hit Burford’s number.
It rang, then went straight to voicemail.
She’d declined my call.
A text came through a second later.
Burford: I know why you’re calling, but I’m going to see her. I want to do what I can to make things right.
Me: Stay the fuck away from my sister and my mom. They don’t need those doors opened back up. They don’t need to be hurt more. Stay the fuck away, Burford.
Burford: Your mom agreed. I’m going.
I tried sending another text, but she’d blocked me.
Fuuuuuck.
I couldn’t drive there myself.
I expelled a ragged breath and hit dial on Mara’s name.
She answered a second later, loud music blasting from her side. “Hey!”
God. She sounded happy.
“Hey.”
“Hold on. I can’t hear you. Let me find somewhere–one second.” She was at some party. Then, it went quiet and her voice came back louder. “Hey. Hi. Sorry. My roommates had people over to watch your game tonight. Please tell me you’re going to beat the shit out of that guy from their team? I wanted to knee him in the balls. Taz has been offering to call in favors from people she knows. Don’t ever ask her about those people. She’ll go on and on about them for hours.”
“You know–”
What was I doing here? Christ.
“Hey, what is it? You never call like this. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. For real. I’m–How are you?”
She didn’t answer right away. “I’m good, but are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing. Do you want to study on Sunday?”
“Sure.” She said it slowly. “We can do that.”
“Awesome. Talk to you then.”
I hung up before I said anything more. Mara wasn’t my girlfriend. I’d been about to treat her like she was. She had her own stuff, and I’d been about to lay even more on her.
Damn.
