The Saints locker room is buzzing.
It’s our first game of the season against the Kelowna Wolves, and although I’ve never played against them, it’s common knowledge they are our biggest rival—making this game one of the most important this season.
I need to show our team and the opposing one that I’m a better hockey player than they already think I am. Just because I’m not captain of this team doesn’t mean I don’t have to play my best. I thrive best under pressure, and there’s no shortage of that tonight.
As I finish putting on all my gear and tie the last knot in my skates, Coach walks in and yells for everyone’s attention. We huddle around him, shoulder pads brushing and heavy breaths mixing. You could taste the nerves in the room right now.
Coach Garrison is a big guy—probably the biggest one in the room. With a bald head and stern brown eyes, he’s nothing short of intimidating. Playing under him is different than playing for Banner, but I’ve more than accepted the change.
“Tonight is big, you all know that. We need to show these guys that we’re coming out hot this season. Got it? We might have lost our captain, but that doesn’t mean we’re at a disadvantage. We have the number one goal scorer in the league.”
I flash a grin to the team when Coach turns his attention to me.
“Lowry and Bateman, keep Hutton clear. They’re going to be on him all night. Stay focused and keep it clean. Don’t fall for their shit. Beat them on the scoreboard, not in the penalty box. Now, go kick some Wolf ass.”
The team erupts into cheers and howls of excitement. Matt’s as serious as ever when I spot him through the crowd and make my way over to him.
“You good?” he asks, bumping my shoulder with his gloved hand.
“Good as ever. You? We need you on your A game tonight.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He falls in line behind me as we weave our way to the exit.
Screams, music, adrenaline.
There is nothing that comes close to this feeling—the one you get when you skate onto the ice on game day and hear your name and number being called into a full arena. It’s one of those surreal moments where you want to take a minute just to stand and soak it all in. But you never can. There’s never the time to.
As soon as my skates hit the ice, I’m focusing on the game by building a wall between the prospect of winning and any distraction that could possibly take the W from us. But when I finish my final warm-up lap, I feel that wall crumble just enough to spark a sliver of panic in my veins.
My eyes are drawn to her, to Ava and Morgan as they sit in the front row. Ava’s lips are spread in a wide grin, her eyes laser focused on me. It messes with me, and I nearly trip over my feet—something that hasn’t happened since I was a kid.
But as confusing as these feelings are, I have to admit there’s something almost addicting about having a beautiful girl smiling at me in the stands while sporting my team’s jersey. Whose number is she wearing? Nope. Doesn’t matter.
With a flashy wink, I bump my shoulder against the glass as I skate by her seat. That damn smile is branded in my mind as I head for the centreline.
Getting in position to take the first faceoff of the game, I look over at the two wingers beside me, Knoxville and White, and give them both a head nod. My heart pounds as the ref drops the puck on the ice and I scoop it up, taking off.
With thirteen minutes left to go in the game, we’re tied with three points each. Our team is exhausted from playing defense most of the game—thanks to our hotheaded defensemen not taking an ounce of smack talk from the opposing team without losing their calm.
It also doesn’t help that I’ve spent most of my remaining energy maneuvering around their killer blueliners while slapping useless shots at their goalie whenever I have a chance.
My helmet knocks against the boards when a defenseman hits my shoulder. A hiss of pain escapes my lips, and I struggle to regain my balance, shaking off the ache in my shoulder. I turn and give my missing cover man a death glare.
“Fuck sake, Braden,” I growl under my breath.
I see Matt in front of me as he stops the puck behind his net and gets ready to pass it off. I slap my stick against the ice to let him know that I’m open. I do a lap around our zone before skating toward the other end of the ice.
Matt passes the puck to me before the other team’s centreman reaches him. As soon as I hear it clap against my stick’s blade, I push off my feet, speeding up. I only make it a few feet ahead before another Wolves player heads straight in my direction.
Fortunately, this time Braden does his job and watches my back. He throws his body against the player—hard.
I skate past the pair and run straight into the second defenseman. Spinning around, I move around them and sneak a quick look behind me to see Braden lose his edge on his player.
It’s now or never. I wind up and slap the puck hard, successfully sending it five-hole. The red lamp goes off, and my teammates immediately tackle me in a fit of hugs and punches.
After a few pats on the back, I push myself over the boards and sit down on the bench beside Adam. I spot Ava and Morgan standing in their seats, cheering loudly, and smile to myself.
The game ends quickly after that, with no other goals being scored. We win by one, but that’s good enough for me.
“Good game, man,” Matt tells me once we reach the locker room.
“Thanks. You kept us in it, though,” I reply.
With his helmet already off and put away, he shoots me a grin and pulls off his jersey, throwing it into his bag. Braden brushes past him and throws his arm around me. I crinkle my nose when I get a big whiff of him.
“Get off me. You smell like a donkey’s ass,” I say, pushing at him. The guy barely moves.
He scowls and smells me obnoxiously. “Like you smell any better.”
Tyler collapses on the bench in front of us and snickers. “He’s not the one going around groping people.”
“Jealous?” Braden smirks and removes his arm from my shoulders, only to move toward Tyler in slow motion. “Come on. Give me a hug.”
Tyler’s eyes narrow. “Touch me and I’ll break your hands.”
“Tough love. What a shame,” Braden sighs.
“Hit the showers, Braden. I’m sure your fangirls are waiting for you.” Matt laughs.
“You make it sound like they’re a problem or something,” he replies, making quick work of discarding his gear and stripping to his underwear.
If it weren’t for our several requests that he doesn’t walk around the dressing room butt-ass naked all the time, I’m positive he would have already been tossing his junk in everyone’s face by now.
“Not a problem. Just annoying,” I grumble, shoving my gear back in my cubby and hanging my jersey on the hook.
“I understand Matt being a bitch about getting bunny pussy, but what’s your deal? You a virgin or something?” Braden asks me, his brows lifted.
“The fact you just referred to it as ‘getting bunny pussy’ is exactly why I’m not discussing this topic with you.”
He scoffs. “Oh, come on. Even Tyler sleeps around.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tyler grunts.
“You’re the most introverted person I’ve ever met. I would have expected you to be the virgin.”
Tyler shakes his head and grabs a stack of clothes and a bottle of body wash before disappearing toward the showers.
Braden shrugs. “Was it something I said?
Matt only laughs, and Braden takes that as a signal to shut up and let it drop. At least he knows better than to keep poking. He’s a big guy, but I don’t doubt I could send him on his ass.
We all make quick work of showering and getting dressed. Afterward, I say my goodbyes to the team and leave the dressing room, hoping to get out of the arena as fast as I can. I’m not only exhausted, but my shoulder aches something fierce.
Unfortunately, I don’t make it very far before I’m stopped by a tall, leggy blonde I’ve seen around the rink a few times.
“Hey, Oakley! You did amazing tonight. Are you going to the after-party?” she asks brightly.
I stop a few feet from her and offer a forced smile. “Hey. Yeah, I was planning on it.”
“Exciting! You’ll have to save me a dance.”
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer . . .” I trail off, coming up with nothing but empty thoughts when it comes to this girl’s name.
Her bottom lip juts out. “Cassie. My name is Cassie. You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?” I hope I look more apologetic than I sound. There’s no way I’ve spoken to this girl before.
She looks taken aback, and I’m about to apologize for not knowing who she is when a small arm slips around my waist. The tension in my shoulders evaporates when I breathe in the familiar smell of Ava’s perfume.
“Hey, babe. Ready to go? Everyone’s waiting,” Ava murmurs, peering up at me with mischievous green eyes. She runs her fingers up and down my chest, and my mind blanks. What is happening? Babe?
I frantically attempt to collect myself. “Yep, good to go. It was nice to meet you, Cassie.”
Grabbing Ava’s hand, I drag her out of the arena.
“Thank you,” I say once we make it outside. The night is warm, and I’m grateful I brought a change of clothes so I didn’t have to slip back into my heavy suit. “That was a bit uncomfortable.”
“Just repaying the favour for what you said the other day with David. I figured you probably got swarmed tonight. Being the star of the night and all.” She nudges me with her arm and laughs into the light breeze.
“Either way, I appreciate it.”
“Hurry up, Ava. Let’s go!” Morgan yells from the parking lot, half hanging out the unrolled window of her Jeep.
“That’s my cue. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Boy Scout. Unless you bail on us,” she teases while spinning on her heels and jogging down the cement stairs toward Morgan.
Shuffling my feet, I smile. I don’t think I could ever bail on her.
