Chapter 18
Morning Skate
Radar
The water taxi chugged towards Boston, but I kept my eye trained on our building. Somewhere in there, Ella was busy hating my guts.
And even if I wasn't happy with her little stunt at breakfast, I knew why she'd done it. I'd made her lie. The one thing she built her personal code around … and I'd made her trash it. Just for me.
I wished I didn't have to go to morning skate. I wished I could call in sick, but that never goes over well with your teammates or your coaches. All I wanted more than anything right now was to be back in that building. Alone with Ella, so I could really try to … I dunno. Talk about last night? Explain myself?
But what else is there to explain? You tried to do the right thing—you didn't even fuck her! Besides, she's covering for you and now you guys won't get caught. Nothing to worry about. The end.
But if all that was true, then why did I still feel so rotten?
Lance elbowed my side. “You alright, man?” he asked.
“Huh? Yeah, why?”
“You're all quiet and moody today. Never seen you like this.” He elbowed my side. “You didn't go falling for that girl last night, did you?”
If he had any idea the girl he was talking about was his little sister—
“What? No way,” I panted.
“Good. Because the Brawlers can't have you going all soft on us.” He leered at me. “You sure you didn't fall for her? Sounds like she was a real wild one. Maybe that's what you've been looking for all this time.”
“I don't wanna talk about it, Lance,” I groaned.
“Okay. Whatever, man.”
Lance was right. I was quiet and moody. The rest of the way to the arena, I didn't say a word. I felt so damn conflicted about everything.
Ella's taste still lingered on my tongue. Every so often, I'd get a whiff of her musk, and memories from last night flooded my mind. Me, between her thighs, holding her legs apart. Her dress hastily bunched up around her waist. The way her eyes fluttered, how she bit her lip, the expressions on her face, God, her screams! …
Everything about her drove me wild. Just thinking about last night made me hard. She took off her dress, climbed into my bed, and—somehow, somehow, I managed to do the right thing and turn that beautiful girl down.
And now she hated my guts.
***
I was a disaster in our morning skate. I flubbed pucks left and right. I whiffed on passes. I turned one-timers that should've been goals into duds that sailed ten feet wide. I lost an edge and took a spill to the ice more than once.
I might as well have been Ryan Ryder from four years ago—the player who couldn't hold a steady roster spot in the NHL, who didn't have the confidence that he belonged on NHL ice.
“The hell's wrong with you today?” Shea barked at me.
I shook my head. “Dunno.”
Lance glided by and announced with a shit-eating grin, “Radar had a lady friend last night.”
“Oh, another pair of panties for the collection, huh.” Shea wasn't amused. He blasted a heavy slap-shot at the goalie and turned to me. “If your social life is starting to become a problem on the ice, it's time to grow the hell up and knock that shit off, Radar.”
Bitterly, I swallowed the captain's sage advice with a reluctant nod. “Thanks, Shea.”
This can't be over soon enough.
***
After practice, I sat at my stall like a zombie while Lance recounted Ella's version of last night to all the boys in the dressing room.
“… yep, she literally said, the girl screamed like a thousand wolves being burned alive. … I know! I know! … Hell, she'll hang out with us after the game tonight, I'm sure. You can ask her yourself …”
“It's not true,” I grumbled at last. “None of it is true.”
“What?” Lance chuckled. “You're going to just deny it?”
“Yes. It's not true.”
“What about it isn't true, then?”
I stared at Lance. I couldn't possibly tell him Ella made the whole thing up, or he'd ask why. And then that'd only make him more suspicious. I was trapped.
“ … Nevermind.”
The boys all laughed uproariously. Yep, surely, I was just all bent out of shape because Lance's sister caught me in the act. Ha ha ha. Oh, boy. What a riot. I even left her panties in the living room—talk about a smoking gun.
Our coach came in and interrupted the chuckle-head session. He said some of us didn't look like we came ready to play, so we'd better pull our heads out of our asses before the game tonight and come ready to play. He didn't call anybody out by name, but we all knew exactly who he meant.
I couldn't wait to head home. We'd have a few hours to eat lunch, take a pre-game nap, and then it was time to head back to the rink for game time.
And, somewhere in there, I hoped I could talk with Ella to make myself feel better.