Page 40 of Revenge Puck

“Seriously?” he asks, blinking at me in surprise. “Are you just saying that shit to get me to lower my guard so you can hit me?”

“No. Although, your face came close to meeting my fist when you called me a jackass.”

“I get why you’re the way you are, man,” Spencer remarks. “You want us to all to play our best. That’s what we want too. But it’s damn hard to find the determination to do that if all we hear is how much we suck or are riding the bench because you knocked us on our asses.”

I’m suddenly reminded of what Elle said earlier, about how it takes a dozen positive comments to negate one negative one, and realize I may be the jackass Spencer thinks I am.

Coach Ramsey can be a hardnosed jackass, making us bust our asses, but he always gives two compliments for every criticism, like, “Nice check, Lawrence, but let’s try to keep our men’s brains all in their heads. God knows they need every bit of it. Drive your shoulder into our opponents’ backs with that kind of momentum, and the fuckers will leave the puck to run in the other direction the next time you come barreling into them.”

“Thanks for the feedback,” I tell Spencer who lifts his brow in shock. “Keep it up, since you’re the only one who isn’t afraid to get shit off your chest.”

“Yeah. Okay,” he replies, swallowing so hard it’s audible.

“And don’t give up on starting. Keep practicing. It won’t necessarily be an injury that takes Vincent out of the game. His reflexes could slow.”

“Great, so I should hope for my teammate’s injury or failure in order to get a shot?”

“Not hope for it. Just be prepared to step up if either of those things happen, and not be a shit goalie.”

“Right. Okay.”

I turn around to leave, but add over my shoulder add, “Don’t tell Vincent what I said. I don’t want him getting the y-i-p-s when we’re so close to the trophy.”

“Get the hell out of here with that godforsaken word! It’s fucked up to even spell it out loud, man! You fucking know that!” Spencer says as he shoos me out of his room before I jinx our goalie with the Y-word. “And find yourself some joy, Pres, from something other than hockey. Like that hot blonde…”

“Don’t even start,” I growl the warning at him before I walk out into the hallway. “You don’t talk about her, and I won’t use the Y-word ever again.”

“Deal,” he says with a grin when he sticks his head out as I walk to my hotel room. “It was awesome seeing Riley flail last night. He looked like a terrified little rookie instead of a hot shot MVP.”

“He was definitely off his game. Here’s hoping he doesn’t find his balls before game four,” I reply.

12

Elle

“Have you seen the video?” Audrey asks me as soon as Mrs. Waverly is sitting under the loud dryer.

“What video?”

“Oh, just the one everyone in the world is talking about!” When I continue staring at her blankly, she scoffs, “You haven’t seen the video Preston posted online?”

“Preston posted a video?”

“Yep.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“Me?” I exclaim. “Show me. My phone’s on the charger in the back.”

“Then you probably have a ton of notifications on it. Here,” she turns the screen around and presses the button on the side of the phone to increase the volume. Then Preston’s deep, gruff voice fills the room, and I am left stunned.

“Well?” Audrey asks once it’s over.

Throwing my arms up in the air, I say, “I can’t believe he did that. Now there will be even more haters and trolls.”

“You think so? Because I don’t. Who would go against anything that scary dude says?”

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