Torn Apart (Torn and Bound Duet 1)

My eyes land on Brayden, whose head is down, refusing to look at me. After I sent him home Monday, he returned Tuesday with a vengeance. His attitude didn’t get any better, but he kept his mouth shut and practiced hard. The problem is, I know Brayden leads this team and I need him to do just that today: lead.

“Today, when you go out there, you’re in control of what happens. Every play, every move, is on you. Whether you win or lose is in your control. This first game is going to set the precedence for the rest of the season. Other teams are going to watch this game, study it, and when they do, we want them to watch in fear. We know the other team is going to come out hard, but I know you guys will come at them even harder. Because who are we?”

The team stays quiet, and I worry they aren’t going to participate in their pregame ritual. Coach Garrison told me about it and I’m hoping if I can get them to do it, it will pump them up.

Brayden’s head pops up and we make eye contact. Right here, right now, will determine if he’s the true leader of the team. If he can put our shit aside for the sake of the game.

“Because who are we?” I repeat, my eyes never leaving Brayden’s.

“We’re the Ice Hawks,” he barks.

Everyone looks up, shocked that he’s speaking.

“And what do Ice Hawks do?” I prompt.

This time all the guys answer. “We fly, we soar, we hunt our prey, and then we tear them apart, limb by limb,” they chant in unison.

“Damn right!” I yell. “Now, who’s ready to play some hockey?”

The team whoops and hollers, and when Brayden’s eyes meet mine, I nod subtly, thanking him. He didn’t have to do what he did, he could’ve stayed stubborn, holding his grudge, but he did what a true leader does and put his team first.

After going over the positions and who’s starting, the guys make their way onto the ice. The arena is full of fans chanting their names. I’m watching Brayden warm up, when he skates over to the glass where Mia and Ashton are sitting. I don’t know what is said, but when he skates away Ashton looks pissed and Mia looked worried. About ten minutes later, he’s back over there. This time when he skates back, I call him over.

“You need to be focusing on your upcoming game, not girls.”

Brayden smirks. “How about I do both? The game now, and Mia afterward when I take her out on a date.”

I scoff, letting Brayden get to me when I know better. “Will be hard to do since we’re going to dinner afterward.” I don’t mention Ashton will also be going.

Brayden’s nostrils flare with challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

The buzzer goes off, indicating the game is about to start, and Brayden skates away.

The first two periods of the game fly by, and at the end of the second period, we’re tied at zero. Both teams are playing aggressively, giving it all they’ve got. I can see Brayden is getting frustrated. He’s playing a perfect game, but their goalie is blocking everything he shoots, just like ours is.

At five minutes left of the third period, the score is still zero for both teams. The last thing we want is to go into overtime. I can tell Brayden is fuming. He’s getting blocked left and right. I’m about to call a time-out, when Brayden and a guy from the opposing team get into each other’s faces. Unlike the NHL, in college hockey, if you fight, you’re automatically disqualified from the game as well as the next.

Brayden’s teammates grab him, pulling him away from the guy as the coach from the other team calls a time-out.

“Murphy, you’re out,” I yell. “Holden, you’re in.”

“What?” Brayden shouts.

“You heard me. Sit down.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dying nine different ways right now.

“Fuck this,” he barks, falling onto the bench.

“Keep it up and you won’t have to worry about being disqualified from the next game, because I won’t play you.”

He tears his helmet off and drops it next to him, glaring my way.

The clock starts back up and the game continues. Derek Holden is good, but he’s definitely no Brayden. With less than a minute left and still tied at zero, I have a choice to make. The stubborn part of me wants to keep Brayden on the bench, but if we have any shot at winning, he’s going to be it.

“Murphy,” I bark. “You’re in.”

Brayden smirks like the cocky bastard he is before he pushes his helmet over his face and skates off, determined.

The clock ticks down as the two teams scramble to take control. Wexler gets control of the puck, but before he can get near the net, he’s taken down.