Page 83 of Fake Out Hearts

“It’s nothing compared to mine, apparently,” Grant grumbles, but it has the opposite effect from what he probably wanted because the team refocuses their attention on him.

“Who pissed in your Wheaties today anyway?” Sawyer asks with a punch at Grant’s arm.

“I was fine until you two started up.”

“Please, you’ve been acting like Eeyore since you walked in here today,” Reese challenges. Grant rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath, but I can’t hear it over Noah clapping to get everyone’s focus.

“Alright, alright, leave the poor guy alone, yeah?” Noah chides. “Besides, we’ve got bigger things to worry about, like winning a game against the Prowlers.”

That gets an eager whoop from the entire team, and in an instant, we’re all in game mode. I’m glad, because I want nothing more than to kick the ever-loving shit out of Kaplan and his team tonight. Nothing would make me happier, especially after what happened the last time he and I squared off on the ice when he got that cheap ass check that cost us the game.

That won’t happen again. Tonight, or ever.

Noah gives a speech to fire us up, but I’m barely listening because I’m already chomping at the bit to get out there and pound the Prowlers into the fucking ice. I don’t just want to win tonight—I want to destroy them. So, they aren’t gonna know what hit them from the second I get out there.

By the time Noah finishes, I’m all geared up along with the rest of the team, so we head out onto the ice together for warm-ups like we always do. We start by doing a few laps to get our muscles working and blood pumping, then take turns running drills shooting against Grant while the seats continue to fill up with fans of both teams. He’s not as distracted as he was in the locker room, but I still sink my shot like it’s nothing.

When it’s time to let the Prowlers take their turn, I find Becca in her usual seat in the front row and skate over to press my gloved hand against the glass. She beams and waves at me, and even though she can’t get close enough to press her hand against the glass too, I feel like she’s right next to me anyway.

But then her expression falls, so I turn to follow her gaze and see Kaplan standing and scowling at us from center ice. Good. Let his sorry ass see exactly what he missed out on, and how much better off Becca is with me.

I turn back to Becca and pound on the glass to catch her attention. Her eyes drift down to mine, so I kiss my glove and smash it against the glass.

“Fuck him,” I mouth, and she laughs and nods. But the buzzer sounds to announce it’s time to clear the ice so the resurfacer can run to keep it nice and smooth for us.

“You good?” Noah shouts in my ear as we pile off the ice into our team bench, but I can’t take my eyes off Kaplan, who’s sitting almost directly across from me on the Prowler’s bench. Noah laughs and claps me on the back. “I should’ve known that’s what this was about. Don’t worry, we’re gonna fucking wreck them tonight.”

“You’re damn right we are.”

Noah flashes me a pleased smile. “There’s the old Theo I remember. You keep that fire burning and they won’t stand a chance,” he says as the resurfacer passes us, temporarily breaking my stare down with Kaplan. But as soon as it’s gone, I find Kaplan’s eyes boring into mine again. He smirks at me, which makes me want to punch him more than I usually do, but I blow it off. I know he’s just trying to get me worked up so he can knock me off my game.

It’s not going to work.

It feels like it takes an hour for the resurfacer to finish its work, but when it’s finally done, we head back out onto the ice and form up to get ready for the puck drop. I take my place on the right wing, ready to support Noah and any of the other guys on my side—and hopefully steal a goal as soon as possible. If we can get an early lead, that will just corner the Prowlers.

The referee skates into the center, and the crowd roars as he gets ready to drop the puck. I stay laser focused on it, ready to pounce as soon as the black disc leaves his hand. The ref slots a whistle into his mouth, and I tense like a panther, every muscle in my body screaming to spring.

All the noise in the arena fades into a distant buzz, almost like I’ve dipped my head underwater, but the screech of the whistle pierces it and I attack the ice with my skates as the puck tumbles out of the ref’s hand. My stick connects with it just as it hits the ice and I’m flying toward the Prowler’s wide-eyed goalie before everyone else can even get their bearings.

Just like I said, they didn’t know what hit them. I sprint down the ice with all the power I can muster, then wind back and slap the puck away. The goalie sails through the air to try and intercept it, but it blazes past his left ear to collide with the net behind him.

The crowd goes insane, making the goal buzzer barely audible over all the noise they’re making. All the lights and sound pump me up even more as we all square up for the next face off. But the Prowlers seem to be waking up to the fact that I’m not fucking around, because Kaplan lines up across me. I hate to say it, but he’s their best player, so the fact they want him on me is almost a compliment. Almost.

“Don’t get used to scoring, Camden,” he shouts over the noise in the arena, but I know he’s just trying to bait me, so I pay him no mind and get ready to leap for the puck again. He can talk all the shit he wants, but when we’re up two to nothing within the first five minutes of the game, we’ll see how cocky he is.

The ref tosses the puck and even though I’m fast, Kaplan is unfortunately faster. He bats it away before I can and cuts through the throng of players, but I’m on him. He makes it three quarters of the way down the ice toward Grant before I intercept him. He tries to juke left, but I’m on to his usual tricks and anticipate it by juking with him.

That catches him off-guard long enough for me to swipe the puck away and pass to Noah before Kaplan even puts two and two together. A roar swells in the crowd again from the reversal, giving me all the encouragement I need. I keep Noah in my peripheral as I bolt down the ice with him, ready to catch a pass if he makes it.

The Prowlers’ center is blocking his shot, but he somehow manages to shoot the puck right through the guy’s legs to me, which makes the crowd lose it. I’m already winding up to take the shot before the puck reaches me, and when my stick slaps against it, I hear it whiz through the air, hovering just above the ice.

The goalie drops to his knees, trying to block the shot with his super padded legs, but he misjudges the angle, and the puck clips his shoulder before bouncing into the net. The arena eruptsinto cheers and buzzing, and the entire Aces team flies over to dog pile on me, pounding on my helmet and cheering with the crowd.

But as everyone hurries to their positions, Kaplan skids to a halt in front of me. “Pretty good shot for someone who’s content with sloppy seconds.”

Rage boils in my veins as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Kaplan shrugs. “I’m just surprised you’d want to marry someone who’s damaged goods. I thought you were better than that. I mean, Becca might be fun, but she’s not really the type you put a ring on.”

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