Page 139 of My Pucking Crush

“Let The Ace take your shift,” Coach suggests the second shift D-man, who even I’m a little afraid of, take my place. No one knows his real name. The back of his jersey just says The Ace.

“What? Why? No.” I shake my head.

“You think I can’t tell when a player is injured after doing this for so many years? That’s a fucking insult.” He looks me up and down. “I might have initially bought that our enemy would kidnap you and not hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” I admit, even if my lies insult him. The team needsme.

“It’s actually my call, you know that right?” Coachcanbench me. “Just a few rounds. I want to see something.”

“See what?” I ask, intrigued.

“How Richmond plays when you’re not on the ice. Get it on film how they’re targeting you.”

“Fuck, that’s smart,” I say, shaking my head.

I agree to forfeit playing with my usual line. I don’t mind avoiding Jake for twenty minutes, but my absence on the ice seems to have made him angrier.

And that’s when it happens.

He goes after Damien Carter.

Uh oh.

They can be wearing the same uniform. Jake is all over Carter. Chirping in his ear, looking like he wants to kiss him. What the hell?

I pull aside Roarke Keegan, a new winger called up. He skated close enough to hear them on the last shift. “What the hell is Quinn saying to Carter?” I ask.

They’re not even supposed to be tangled up like that, given their positions.

“He’s calling him a fucking faggot,” Keegan says, his voice even.

I shoot to my feet. “What?”

“Let it go,” Coach yells, hearing us. “Carter can handle a minor-leaguer like Jake Quinn.”

Beck doesn’t know about Jake and me.

Richmond’s other winger, Jensen, gets in The Ace’s face so their forward can take a shot. It bounces off the goal, but Carter gets it, and with Madison on his flank, they race back across to Richmond’s zone.

The Ace digs in to follow, but Jensen is relentless. I watch for any foul plays, when I hear a collective gasp from the crowd. Even Jensen looks surprised. I see Jake grab Carter by the nuts and punch him with a right hook.

What. The. Fuck?

Coach screams from the bench to call a penalty, but the gasps turns to cheers when Carter blows it off and steals the puck.

He shoots, he scores!

Forgetting everything else, they all huddle and hug. I fight being jealous, but they have to learn how to win without me.

I tell Coach the break helped, so I’m back to my usual shift.

Then the game getsreallyugly.

SEVENTY-FIVE

Max

What happens during the second period will be talked about and watched in replays for years to come.

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