Chapter Three
Ryan
Holdingthe puck with the blade of my stick behind the goal, I watch as my forwards get in place. One of the Commodores’ forwards watches me like a hawk, trying to pick me off, but I won’t let that happen. With my eyes on him and on my forwards, I see my line partner, Moon, come off the bench, tapping the ice for the puck. I rocket it to him, and he redirects it at our winger, who takes off.
Before I can even make it halfway up the ice, though, Reilly scores. A beautiful five-holer that brings the crowd to their feet. As we wrap up for a team hug, I am just astonished at how talented Reilly is. He came out of nowhere from Kentucky, which is crazy since hockey isn’t that big there. He’s a freshman this year, but he won’t be here long. Scouts are on him like bears on honey. Not like with me. With me, it’s a bit different. Scouts look at me because I’m Shea Adler’s nephew. As a favor. I feel like I’m the opposite of honey. Vinegar, if you will.
No, they look at you because you’re fucking amazing.
I say that like I hear my uncle in my head saying it. I have to stay confident. There are plenty of hockey players who don’t go into the draft until their senior year. Smart ones, too, so they can get their education. I’m good. I’m fine. I’ve got this.
Going over the boards, all of us pretty freaking happy with our four to zip lead, I drop my gaze to the spot where my family always sits. My mom couldn’t come tonight; she had an event, and Shea and Elli had things to do tonight too. I’m not upset they aren’t there. They all have lives and have been to every single one of my earlier games. Plus, our student body fills the stands. But Amelia is there, and surprisingly, alone. She told me she was bringing a friend since I didn’t want her sitting by herself. Not that I think she cares. She cheers along with the crowd, waving her teal and black pompom in the air.
A smile pulls at my lips as I sit down between Moon and Radford. Tapping his glove to mine, Moon grins over at me with his crooked teeth. “Great pass. Like a rocket.”
I nod, but before I can say anything, Coach Moore has me by the back of my jersey. “Justice, I need those passes to be quicker and cleaner. Dude almost picked you off.”
I make a face. “He did?”
“Yeah, and for the fact that you didn’t realize that, you owe me laps.”
I groan inwardly but nod quickly. “Yes, sir.”
When Coach is out of earshot, Moon says, “I thought it was clean. It hit my tape perfect.”
I shrug, pretty disappointed in myself. I thought the same, but then, what do I know? I kind of wish Shea were here; he would tell me what I could have done better. I thought it was a damn good pass, but Coach, he’s hard on me because he knows what my goals are. We’ve talked about them a lot, and his goal is to make mine a reality.
“Always room for improvement.”
“I guess.”
“Great redirect, though.”
“Thanks, man.”
I watch as my team dominates in the Commodores’ zone. After two more uneventful shifts on my part, a few hits and one block that I’m sure will bruise later, the game is over and we’ve won. Shutting them out and starting the season strong with a win. I love it. I love my team, but damn it, I want more.
Once we are all in the locker room, I lean back in my locker, an ice towel across my lap to both cover my tight boxers and cool me off. Coach stands in the middle of the room holding the game puck in his hand as he points to McNeil, our awesome goalie, for a damn good shutout.
“It was a team effort, but you all but stood on your head out there, Neilly.”
We all agree, cheering him on as he takes the puck, shaking Coach’s hand. Coach talks a bit more about how great we did but what we could do better. Our defense is a major issue.
“We’ll have a defensemen’s clinic all next week. Five a.m. sharp with Baylor.”
A collective groan moves through the locker room, making Coach grin. His daughter is hard-core insane. The only female to ever make it into the NHL and play her ass off, with a twenty-two-goal season before getting injured? Yeah, she is tough, but I like her. Everyone else hates her. Especially early mornings with her, because she is usually in a shit mood.
“Oh yes, she’s ready to whip you boys into shape. So defense, we’ll see you starting Monday morning. Forwards, don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re the following week.”
More groans before Coach claps his hands and heads out of the locker room. Leaning forward, I reach for another cold towel before wrapping it around my neck.
“That sucks. I have a seven a.m. class.”
I nod, glancing to Moon as I lean back again in my locker. “Me too, on Tuesday and Thursday.”
But I’m not worried. Those classes are for my athletic training major, which I’m killing at. Apparently not Moon, though. He groans for me as he matches my position, both of us just relaxing for a moment. I know Amelia is waiting for me, but I need a minute. I’m still pissed I fucked up that pass, and I don’t want her to worry for me. Closing my eyes, I replay the play, but again, I see nothing wrong. I guess I’ll have to talk to Coach about it, or maybe Shea. Even though he didn’t see it, sometimes I just need to talk to Shea to feel better.
“Dude, let it go. The game is over.”
Moon and I walk toward the rink’s common room. I’m wet from the shower I took, but even in the cool rink, I’m burning up. “It sucks. I felt good about it.”
“It’s over. Leave it on the ice, bro. Ya know that.”
He’s right. “Yeah. I’ll see ya back at the house.”
His bushy brows pull in. “Why?”
“My sister came. I’m gonna make sure she gets back to her place safe.”
He waggles his brows at me. “Your hot sister?”
“My baby sister,” I remind him, and his lips snap shut. He’s a good guy, but there is no way in hell I would be okay with him dating my sister. She’s a baby. No. No way.
As I turn to head toward her, I look up at the wall that holds photos of all fourteen of our Bullies’ brothers who have made it into the NHL. There are some greats. The Sinclair brothers, going into the draft one after another and all going first round. Some other guys I really don’t know, but then one I do. My buddy Aiden Brooks. He’s the newest to be added. He didn’t even finish his first full year here before they decided he was going into the draft as soon as possible, and he was picked number one to the Islanders. It was insane, but we were all super proud of him.
Looking at each of their faces, I can’t help but smile.
I want to be number fifteen.
But that won’t happen if my passing sucks.
Fuck.
Rolling my eyes, I go to the spot where my family always waits. In the corner of the hall, Amelia has her phone out, taking pictures as she does various duck-lip poses.
It’s pathetic, but I love her.