Page 41 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“I love visiting Colorado Springs,” Daphne says, “but being over a mile above sea level with the thinner air is rough. No matter how fit our Devil Birds are, it’s always a challenge to play here.”

“Does the Colorado team have an advantage at lower altitudes? More stamina?” I munch on the handful of popcorn I grabbed out of the communal tub we’re sharing. Daphne mixed in colorful chocolates and peanut butter candies, and the combination of flavors is making my taste buds happy. I’m glad Daphne mentioned the altitude. I thought I was being lazy, getting tired while working on movements for our dance this week. I’m relieved to know it’s normal.

She shrugs. “Maybe a slight advantage in conditioning, but not enough to make a difference. Being at sea level isn’t as much of an advantage for the high-altitude teams, especially with everyone being so highly conditioned in general. And since everyone is a shifter, they acclimate more quickly anyway. They don’t need days like a human does before exerting themselves. Just staying overnight seems to be enough for them to be good to go.”

“Does altitude affect avian shifters like Bridget or Logan?” The Devil Birds’ goalie is a goose shifter, but that’s not common knowledge, and Daphne’s husband is an eagle shifter. I’ve always been curious about that, but I grew up surrounded by wolf shifters and didn’t have anyone to ask.

“No, they acclimate easily. Of course, Logan is used to traveling, so things like altitude and time zones don’t affect him that much. How is Trevor doing? I’m glad they aren’t playing him tonight. All the healing he has to do, plus the altitude? I don’t know how he’d get through a full game. He’d be like a limping deer hunted by a ravenous pack of wolves.” She grimaces and shoots me an apologetic glance. “No offense.”

I chuckle. “None taken.”

The last thing I want is for Trevor to not be able to perform at full strength and speed. Playing hurt is risking greater injury, and we can’t have that. Glancing over my shoulder at Trevor, I watch him nod while listening earnestly to Jake, who’s pointing at something on the ice. Trevor’s brow furrows as he shakes his head. I hear the word “trade,” but nothing else of their conversation because they’re speaking quietly and the Cryptids’ arena is loud.

Grabbing Miranda’s arm, I nervously ask, “Trevor isn’t getting traded, is he?”

It would devastate him to leave the team. I’m not sure he’d play for another one. As much as he loves playing professional hockey, he loves playing in his hometown and working with his friends. I’ll dance anywhere to achieve my goals, but Trevor is more selective. His goals stretch far beyond playing hockey. Dance is all I have.

Miranda shakes her head emphatically. “No! Why would you think that? Has Trevor said anything about wanting to play elsewhere?” It’s her turn to glance over her shoulder to where Trevor and Jake are seated.

“No, we haven’t talked about the trade deadline at all. But I know it’s coming up and it’s been on everyone’s mind. Will anyone be traded from the team?”

Miranda chews on her cheek. “I can’t say anything. There have been discussions, and maybe there will be some new faces in the locker room and folks moving on, but nothing is definite, and it wouldn’t be anyone at the barn. I can’t say anything more than that. I shouldn’t have even said that much.”

We settle in to watch the game. Declan’s playing Trevor’s usual position and is doing a fine job. The team seems to be working well together. It’s a physical game but not to the level it has been recently, and no one player seems to be targeted like Trevor has been. It’s almost like there’s a bounty on his head. I’m even more glad he’s sitting this game out. The team heads off the ice after a scoreless first period, and I join Trevor. He’s scrolling through his phone and gives me the briefest glance when I rest my hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.” I lean into him.

He stiffens and leans away, shrugging his shoulder to dislodge my hand. “There could be cameras.”

I look around. The box is visible from around the arena, but I don’t notice anyone paying any particular attention to us. The announcers are across the ice from us, but they’re chatting with each other for their intermission report.

“So? We’re on camera all the time.”

“For dancing, yeah, but if they see us cuddling up here, that’ll fan the flames of the rumors that we’re dating.”

I know we’re not public, but I didn’t realize we were a secret.

“Right. Sorry.” I step away and dodge his hand when he reaches out for me.

“Soph…” he says on a sigh. “I’m sorry. The hockey blogs are saying you’re the reason my game has been crap and the team has been losing. I know that’s not true. The team knows it’s not true. But I don’t want to give anyone ammunition to talk crap about you. I can’t stand it.”

I swallow down the lump that’s clogging my throat. “No worries, Trevor. I get it. You all need to be focused on getting the playoffs and not dealing with ridiculous rumors about us being in a relationship. In three weeks, I’ll be gone, and all the drama stirred up will be proven false. It’s all good.”

I keep my spine straight as I walk to the bathroom conveniently located in our box. Resting my back against the locked door, I allow myself the indulgence of a few tears before I lock down my heart, take care of business, and prepare to emerge like I don’t have a concern in the world. I’m a dancer and an actress. If I was able to carry a tune, I could market myself as a triple threat. But I can’t, so I better make sure I stay focused on being the best dancer I can be.

16

TREVOR

The Devil Birds won.I didn’t play, and they won. Mac had a hat trick. Alvarez was great on the first line. The guy brought up from the Demon Geese got an assist to earn his first point in the PHL. Everyone had a great game. Because I wasn’t on the ice. I wasn’t a distraction. No one had to step up to prevent me from becoming roadkill, so they could focus on getting the puck in the net.

Am I being selfish wanting to play professional hockey? Maybe I’d help the team more by not being on the roster.

“Stop it,” Mac says in his deep Scottish brogue. We’re sitting together on the flight home from Colorado. Sophie and Randi are huddled together across the aisle, giggling over something Randi has pulled up on her phone.

“Stop what?” I ask, looking first at him and then across the table to Bedard and Stone. We’re playing the card game Uno and Bedard just hit Stone with a draw two card.

“Thinking you’re not good enough and shouldn’t be on the team. Don’t be daft. You’re necessary. You belong. You not being on the ice didn’t help us win tonight. Our losses aren’t because of you. Hockey is a team sport.”

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