Page 14 of Scoring Lessons

I rested my gloves briefly on the boards. “He needed to be set straight,” I commented, unapologetically.

She raised one of her perfectly sculpted brows, her elbows meeting the boards as she leaned forward with a low hum. “And that required a territorial standoff at center ice?”

“Territorial?” Please. It hadn’t been that bad.

Right?

Her mouth twitched. “You looked like two dogs trying to mark territory.”

“That’s insulting.”

A full-on smirk appeared in the corners of her mouth. “To dogs?”

I shot her a withering glare. “To me.”

Her laugh was soft, airy. Nothing like the Olivia she typically was.

I hated how much I liked the sound of it.

I pushed away from the boards. I needed to get away from her before the peaceful moment between us would turn into something sour.

“Try not to start a fight today,” Olivia called after me.

I looked over my shoulder, shooting her a cheeky grin. “No promises.”

FIVE

WESLEY

DO YOU WANT ME TO FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE?

Loud places were usually good for me.

The beats of the music and people’s chatter were a wonderful distraction. Being around the guys helped, too. They brought the best parts out of me and made it easy to take a step back and breathe for once. But they were also a curse disguised as a blessing—a constant reminder as to why I was desperate to get my contract with the Strikers extended.

Being at our usual favorite ’80s-looking dive bar—with its sticky wooden floors, cheap alcohol, faux-stained glass billiard lights that hung over the green pool tables, and that distinctive smell of fried foods—after our first week of training camp was over wasn’t enough to quiet the voices in my head. They hovered over me like persistent ghosts, whispering doubts I couldn’t quiet no matter how hard I tried.

I took a sip of my lukewarm beer, letting the bitter malt coat my tongue and wash down my throat. I’d been nursing the same drink all night, because the last thing I needed was to get on Coach’s bad side by showing up hungover during training. I knew when to push the envelope when it came to having fun, but this year was different. Everything was on the line.

We were going to find out the new roster for the upcoming season soon. I’d been playing next to Anderson and Donovan for a few years now, but that didn’t guarantee me a spot.

It didn’t matter if we’d won the Cup—if there was better talent, changes were not only a possibility, they were a certainty. Especially now, more than ever, because every single team was trying to catch up to us. They were eager to beat the reigning champions.

A heavy rock settled in the pit of my stomach.

If there was no offer on the table, did that mean I was one of those inevitable changes?

I tried to push the thought away, but there it was…front and center. I’d been kicking myself more than usual. It was like my body craved this dread that spread inside me like poison. It wanted to lie in the what-ifs, to let the uncertainty linger and essentially ruin my fucking life like a pest.

The worst part of it all was the self-awareness. But once my brain chained itself to these thoughts, there wasn’t anything I could do.

Parker approached me with an arm draped over a blonde. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

I nodded without a word and forced a smile, hoping one of these days I could mean what my face showed.

“You should join us,” a redhead—who I assumed was the blonde’s friend—said with a sultry voice as she twirled a strand of hair around her index finger.

Parker settled me with a look I knew well. He needed me to be his wingman, to distract the friend while he took the other one home. Any other night, I would have done it without hesitation. We had our wing game down pat, it was like second nature. We worked well together.