Page 88 of Revenge Puck

I could ask her to come with me, but that’s unlikely since her family, her friends, and her salon are all in or near Greensboro.

Maybe I could suggest that she open up a second salon in California, like a franchise. I could give her the startup money. It could be great.

Another thought suddenly occurs to me.

Tonight’s game could be the last one I ever play in the Warhawks arena if we win it and game five in Greensboro. And isn’t that a kick in the nuts?

The city may not be my original hometown, but it’s been good to me the past three years. The fans pack the stadium, selling out every game to cheer on the team, even if I’m nobody’s favorite player.

I’ll miss this place, the familiar house I share every minute with my sister and nephew. I think that’s subconsciously the real reason I wanted to celebrate tonight. It’s the end of a chapter in my life.

In a few weeks, I’ll have to start over somewhere else all over again. And I’ll probably have to do it alone.

Whatever happens, I know I’ll always cherish these last few days with Elle, playing in the championships, having all the family I need coming out to support me.

While the team is getting dressed in the locker room, I slam my hand against my locker to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up!”

All conversations stop. The look on my teammates’ faces reminds me of when Finley gets caught sneaking cookies before dinner. It’s a mix of guilty and reluctant acceptance of the berating he knows his mom is going to give him.

Damn. Maybe I am a little harsher than I need to be with my critiques if that’s automatically what all the guys expect whenever I open my mouth.

“Tonight, after we win, getting one game closer to the trophy, there’s going to be a party at my house. I’ll have someone text the address to everyone.”

It’s so quiet I can hear the announcer testing the audio equipment all the way down the tunnel and out in the arena.Testing. Testing 1-2-3.

“That’s all,” I tell the men when they seem to be holding their breath, waiting for me to finish speaking.

“So…there’s a party tonight at your place?” Bryan repeats slowly.

“Yes.”

“And we’re all invited?” Vincent asks, pointing a finger at his chest, then the rest of the locker room.

“Yes. Bring some friends or significant others if you want. There should be plenty of beer and pizza. Maybe even cake,” I add with a grin. “We’ll have earned a night of a little junk food, right?”

I left the food and beverages for Maya and Elle to handle. The three of us spent some time straightening up the place earlier. We don’t have to worry about any breakable possessions since the house is always kid and giant-clumsy-uncle-proof.

Everyone continues to sit or stand so still and motionless that I feel like I’m in one of those creepy wax museums. “If there are no other questions, then get your asses on the ice for warmups.”

Finally, a few shoulders slump, breathing resumes, gaping mouths close.

Still, I’m not even a little surprised when Saul says, “A party at your place sounds cool and all, Pres, but what if we –” That’s all he gets out before the guys on either side of him slap both of their palms over his mouth.

“We’re winning this game tonight,” I assure my teammates. “How do I know? Because this is our fucking year to bring home the championship trophy. Forget the last game. Shit happens. Flush it and get off the pot. Tonight, just play like it’s the last game of your life because it very well could be. And we’re all a bunch of idiots if we take this opportunity for granted. We’re the goddamn Northern Conference champs and we’re only two games away from kissing the trophy that we’ve all dreamed about, the trophy every hockey player in the world dreams about from the moment they lace up their first pair of skates.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Coach Ramsey agrees when he walks into the center of the locker room. “You heard the man—get your asses out on the ice for warmups, then clinch that W tonight.”

He gives me a nod that I return before putting on my gloves and taking my own advice, heading out to the arena.

The first test of my new inner peace comes when the Bobcats skate out of the visitor’s tunnel. I remind my temper, my jealousy, that nothing I can do to Christian Riley will changeanything. He’ll still be a prick until the day he dies, and I’ll never forgive him for taking advantage of my little sister and then abandoning her when she needed him most.

After he sent the cash to Maya, I lost it, lost all respect for him for refusing to even talk to her about the pregnancy he caused.

I know it wasn’t Elle leaving the arena that caused me to play awful in the last game. I was so damn worried that Riley would see Maya and Finley in the stands and finally start asking questions. Maya isn’t on social media, and her and Finley didn’t travel for the two away games I got ejected from when playing Riley. Seeing them at game three in D.C. would have been the first time Riley could possibly realize that Maya didn’t terminate the pregnancy five years ago.

I waited for him to come up and ask all three periods. But I should’ve known that the idiot wouldn’t even bat an eye because he’s so self-centered.

His past with Elle is no different. He doesn’t care about her, never did. If he had, he wouldn’t have broken her heart. So, all the talk is nothing but him regretting letting her go and unintentionally sending her right into my arms.

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