18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Leo

I step onto the ice as the Ravens' arena roars to life, a sea of black and purple jerseys filling the stands. The air crackles with tension, thick enough to choke on. While there are rivalries, this team is on another level. Their digs are personal, their play dangerous. They even love goading certain teammates of mine off the ice.

Wyatt skates up beside me, his jaw clenched tight. “Hate playing these assholes.”

I grunt, then pin him with a look. “Just don’t lose your head no matter what these assholes say. Virgin, I swear. I don’t want to see your name in the newspapers again.”

When we played the Ravens earlier in the season, their winger got under my friend’s skin, hit a sore spot and Wyatt ended up in a bar fight that made the news. It’s kind of how I ended up being forced to babysit him, aka the beginning of our friendship.

He waves me off as he skates toward center ice for the face-off. I hop over the boards, watching and praying under my breath he just keeps a level head. For some reason, the opposing team knows which of my friend’s trigger buttons to push.

The ref drops the puck, and Wyatt wins the draw, sending it back to Lund. We push up the ice, but the Ravens are on us like a pack of hyenas, relentless and playing dirty.

Roan gets checked into the boards, the puck nowhere near him, and I just know it’s going to be that type of game. Except Wyatt might not be the only one I need to keep an eye on because Lund passes the puck, then levels the winger who just hit Roan.

Refs blow the whistle for that one and we’re down a player as Lund heads for the penalty box. Fucking dammit. Hockey 101: stripes are always looking for the retaliation.

Wyatt joins me on the bench, shaking his head. “Stupid hit.”

I blink a few times, almost wanting to laugh. Where the fuck did this mature version of my friend come from? “Tell me about it. We need to win this one. Close the point gap.”

Out on the ice, we’re doing everything we can to keep the Ravens from scoring. Roan even slides to block a shot. And I owe Smitty a fucking steak dinner for all the blocks he’s making.

Regardless, with only ten seconds left on the penalty kill, the Ravens score. Taking a deep breath, I hop onto the ice. We lose the face-off, so I chase down their center. Smitty blocks another shot and I take control of the rebound, sending it up the ice to Mykyta.

He dekes around the defensemen and takes a shot that clangs off the bar. Petrov jostles with a Raven for control, and I tap my stick on the ice to let him know where I am.

The puck lands right on my tape but there’s no opening, so I skate to my left and pass to Petrov. He passes back to me, and I’m about to take a shot when Mykyta wraps around the net with no one by him.

I send the puck a bit hard, but he’s still able to control it enough to put it into the net. “Yes!”

“Nice pass, Cap.”

“Way to make yourself open.” I pat his helmet and we skate over to the bench, the next line coming onto the ice. The crowd's booing, but it's music to my ears. Fuck 'em all.

We score again and at the end of the period we are up by one. In the locker room, I scarf down a banana with some honey on it, trying to get my nerves under control as Coach talks to us.

But his voice fades and my mind drifts off, focusing on the fiery brunette currently living with me. The one taking care of my kids, the one I fucked like a savage beast until I came so hard I saw those twinkly spots.

And fuck do I want to do it again. And again.

Except the entire situation is nothing more than a ticking time bomb. This is just sex, but it’s happening under my roof where my kids might find out and with a person they have a relationship with.

Stella and Mason won’t understand what casual is. And what if—

“Hartman! Are you even listening?” Coach's sharp voice snaps me back.

“Yeah, Coach. Got it.” But I don't because I have no fucking clue what he just said.

The second period starts, and the Ravens come out swinging. They're hitting harder, skating faster and five minutes in, they score. The arena erupts, the noise a physical force.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My disappointment is short lived because Wyatt answers right back with a goal of his own, keeping our lead. I slap him on the shoulder as we pass one another during a line change. “Thanks for keeping us in this.”

He shoots me a wide smile. “Oh, I’m just getting started. Hoping to give us enough of a lead before I pound that piece of shit winger into the ground.”

“Virgin, what did I—”

He only smiles wider. “Just giving you the heads up, Sprinkles. That fucker is going down. And I’m not the only one he’s talking shit to.”

With a huff, I skate off, eyeing the bench. Roan is glaring—fucking glaring—at the Ravens’ bench.

Shit.

He’s never angry. Or at least he never shows it. Lately, he just seems lost. Maybe it would be good for him to take a go at someone, get out whatever he’s obviously burying down deep. But then again, the last thing we need is another penalty.

My shift goes well. We keep the puck in the offensive zone, taking lots of shots on net. Just nothing wants to go in. Part of it is how skilled the Ravens’ goalie is, and the other part . . . it's like the hockey gods just don’t want us to score.

The game continues that way all the way into the third. With a little more than two minutes left, Roan draws the attention of the winger who’s been harassing my teammates. But unlike Lund, Roan has a good head on his shoulders and takes whatever is being dished his way, drawing a penalty.

He nods as he passes. “Get ’em, Cap.”

With our power play line on the ice, we need to ensure we score. Not just to give ourselves a possible buffer to win, but also because we need the point if we want that wild card spot for playoffs.

“Let’s kick their asses.” Wyatt winks at me as he gets into position for the face-off.

“Always looking for a fight, huh, Clanton? Fuck, not sure why CPS hasn’t removed that kid from your care.” The Ravens’ winger sneers.

My fingers tighten around the butt end of my stick. “Keep running that mouth and you may lose a few more teeth.”

“Ah, what’re you, his Daddy now, Hartman?”

“You boys done yet?” The ref glares at us.

He drops the puck. We have possession and now it's a balance between running down the clock and scoring. And making sure these assholes don't score a shorthanded goal. My eyes are darting everywhere, tracking the puck, my teammates, the Ravens’ players.

Down in the corner, Wyatt ties the puck up with his skate, keeping it against the boards as the Ravens try to dig it loose. Luckily, Hudson’s able to sneak it away and we get into position, passing it around.

Time slows to a crawl when I gain possession again, thirty seconds left on the power play and forty-five left for the game. So, I fire off a shot, putting everything I have into it. The puck flies through the air, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think the goalie's got it.

But then the puck sneaks through, and the red light flashes.

Goal.

The arena goes silent for a split second before erupting in boos. But I don't hear them. All I can hear is the thundering of my own heart and the jubilant shouts of my teammates.

We hold on for the last few seconds and, just like that, the game's over. We've won.

In the locker room, the mood is a strange mix of relief and tension. Mykyta drops into the seat next to me, his usual grin plastered on his face. “Hell of a game, Cap. That last goal? Pure fucking poetry.”

I grunt in response, not in the mood for small talk. My mind's already racing ahead, thinking about our next game, our standings, the points we need to rack up.

“Aw, come on.” Mykyta nudges me. “We won! Smile a little, yeah?”

“One goal doesn't fix our standings.” I toss my gloves into my bag.

His grin falters a bit. “Yeah, but it's progress, right? We're moving in the right direction.”

“Moving's not enough. We need to be sprinting.”

Mykyta holds up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Just trying to keep things positive.”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “I know. Sorry. It's just. . .”

“A lot of pressure,” he finishes for me. “We get it, Cap. We're all feeling it. But you can't carry it all on your own, you know?”

These guys are my team, my responsibility. I should be lifting them up, not dragging them down with my mood.

“You're right. It was a good win. We'll build on it.”

Mykyta's grin returns full force. “That's more like it!”

I look around at the rest of my teammates. They're laughing, shoving each other, and being goofy idiots.

And, for a moment, I let myself believe. Believe that we can do this. Believe that we can make the playoffs.

Believe that maybe, just maybe, I can have more than just hockey in my life.