44. Devon

Devon

I slam my body into the defender, smashing him against the wall, and watch as his head bounces in his helmet, one of his teeth flying through his guard and skittering across the ice. The ref blows his whistle, sentencing me to more time in the penalty box. But I don't care.

We're barely holding on to this game. Somehow, the Rangers are off their game, too, and have struggled to get the puck in the net. Right now, we're tied at nothing. I sit in the penalty box, my blood feeling like it's boiling.

Every time I appear on the ice, the fans boo. Apparently, everyone has been really invested in our "relationship." Now, it looks like I dumped Lola right after it was announced that she was pregnant. I still have no idea who made the announcement and why they made it look like Lola and I wanted to share that information.

I still haven't heard from her about whether it's even true, but it must be, based on the fact that she won't even open the door for me. The worst part of being in that fucking hallway was that I could hear her sniffling on the other side of the door.

Getting through this game is the most important thing. Then, I can go back to her apartment and break down the fucking door if I have to.

As soon as I'm out of the penalty box, Grey pulls me aside, and I slump onto the bench.

"This is fucked," Grey mutters defeatedly. "We are so fucked."

"No," someone says, and we both turn to see Brett appearing in his full gear. "We're not."

"Brett, what the fuck?" Grey says, waving his hand at him dismissively. "You aren't cleared for a few weeks."

Brett digs into his pocket, producing a paper and thrusting it at Grey, who takes it skeptically and looks it over.

"What the hell?" he states, looking up at Brett, his eyebrow raised. "How the hell did you heal so quickly? You're cleared already?"

"Found a really good physical therapist," Brett says, shrugging. "Now, are you going to put me on the ice or not?"

Grey glances at me and Brett. Then, he grabs our shoulder pads and pulls us in close to him, his eyes sharp and unforgiving.

"Listen to me. I'm winning this fucking game. Devon, you have to get your head out of your ass and think about your teammates. Brett, no fucking around on the ice, you got it? Use your head. Make smart decisions. Now, go."

We hit the ice, and immediately, the dynamic changes. Brett is still a little fresh, so I take the lead, but his passing skills elevate our offense in a way that's been seriously lacking since the beginning of the season.

The truth of our situation falls away for the first time since I saw the broadcast about Lola. Right now, all I see is the ice, my stick, the puck, and my teammates.

We steal the puck and break away. There's a pass to Brett, who passes to me, and then I bury the puck in the back of the net.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Sammy shouts, clapping me on the shoulder. "Fuck yeah!"

The rest of the game goes by in a blur. Our energy seems to wake the Rangers up, and they come back. We trade points back and forth until the end of the game, when Brett rockets the puck to the other side of the ice and manages to slip it past the goalie, giving us a two-point lead and the win.

"Alright!" Grey says, smiling ear-to-ear when we get off the ice. "Great job, guys."

The locker room is boisterous, loud, and celebratory. We're that much closer to the Stanley Cup, but I don't feel it. The numbness has descended again, and all I can think about is getting back to Lola.

When I leave the locker room and see Melissa waiting for me, I almost turn on my heel and walk away.

"Oh, no, you don't," she snaps, catching my arm and turning me around. She's furious, her hair in loose waves around her face and bags under her eyes. "Devon fucking Chambers. I can't believe I trusted you to keep your stupid dick in your pants. I think it goes without saying that you've lost the camp."

"Yeah," I snap back, yanking my arm away. "It goes without saying. Fucking dump all over me later. I'm going—"

"Devon," she grits, the word hissing through her teeth. "Management is talking about pulling you from the team."

"What?!"

"With the negative PR being worse than it's ever been and your overt violence on the rink today, they think you're a loose cannon. Do you know how hard it is trying to defend you when you've gone and taken advantage of that poor woman? And now, you're clearly taking everything out on your opponents, which is fine, until the fans start to think you're just playing dirty."

"I'm not—"

"Listen to me, Devon. Don't even step foot near Lola, okay? Let things die down, and for the love of god, stop acting like a heathen on the ice. I mean, casual violence is one thing, but people can tell you're out for blood. And it's not a good look, especially when you're just recovering from the negative perception you held at the beginning of the season."

"Melissa," I sigh, taking a deep breath and shaking my head. "You don't understand. I love her."

We stand there in silence for a moment, and then Melissa brings her hand to her face, pinching her nose.

"I should have known better." She laughs humorlessly, shaking her head. "I've seen rom-coms before. I know what happens when people enter into fake relationships. Except I thought this would be more like Hollywood, where you can pull it off without catching feelings. Celebrities do this kind of thing all the time to promote movies. But, of course, Devon Chambers had to go and fall in love."

"Yes, I am known for my loving qualities," I reply sarcastically.

It hits me that any man forced to spend time with Lola would fall in love with her, not just me. Fake dating her is really just dating her, only with more sexual tension and temptation because you're being told you can't be intimate.

"Just be careful, Devon," Melissa warns, catching my arm again when I turn to go.