Page 6 of Play Maker

There was nothing like the smell of a hockey locker room; a combination of musky jocks, funky pits, and ripe feet, along with the hit of ammonia that lingered from the cleaning crew. To some people, it’s intense, even gag-inducing. To me, it was a reminder that no matter how shitty things got, this was home.

Hockey wasn’t just a game to me; it was my destiny. That might sound dramatic, but it was true. I was eight years old when my aunt gifted me a hockey jersey with the number to match, along with a pair of secondhand skates. There was trepidation but mostly elation when I stepped out onto the ice for the first time, like a wobbly newborn deer discovering how to walk. But it didn’t take me long to get my footing. Soon, I was outskating every kid in my town and on my team, and I didn’t look back.

For a guy like me, whose professional league dream was just within reach, it wasn’t a matter of doing what I love, but needingit, like a drug. Everything in my life up to this point was a fight to get here.

And I always played to win.

According to my aunt Josie, I’d been born scrappy, a preemie with a tiny body but a huge set of lungs. And nothing had changed in twenty years. I was still loud and determined to beat the odds.

My first year at Sutton U had felt like a dream and after every game I pinched myself. This was my life. And now, more than halfway through my second year, my goal was to secure the coveted center spot. Coach Banning hadn’t decided yet and it was chafing my balls. I was the highest scorer on the team and ranked fourth in the national college standings. That spot was fucking mine. I knew it as sure as I knew every inch of ice that we played on.

But there was a problem with my plan. A problem named Axel Lund.

He was a new forward, but an old reminder of the life I’d left behind. Axel wasn’t just a teammate; he was also my ex-boyfriend’s best friend. My stomach roiled at the thought of my last semester of high school and everything that had happened with Preston. I thought I’d put it all behind me but having Axel here brought back shit I didn’t want to face.

But I’d survived tougher enemies than Axel. I could handle it.

Iwashandling it. Sort of.

This past fall was nothing but me and Axel circling each other with wary glances and sharp comments. The tension was undeniable, but given that we barely spoke to each other, we kept it contained. But we couldn’t maintain this distance forever. I was dying to ask him questions. Like, what the fuck was he doing here at Sutton anyway? Why would Axel transfer from the top-ranked team in the country? Did he miss his mark as Langston’s play maker? The guy didn’t score as much as me lastseason, but he sure as shit had more assists, so the nickname suited. And I knew that he was also vying for the same spot.

He was close, too close, and now my competition for everything I’d been busting ass for.

And here we were, in late January, ready to ramp up again. And it wasn’t just hockey that had my gut churning and my nerves riding high. I’d recently come out to the team. I’d known I was bisexual since high school but living in a small town stuck in the nineties didn’t exactly encourage me to tell people. Axel already knew, of course he did, and I was surprised he didn’t tell everyone the moment he landed here, since he hated my guts. But he didn’t. As to why, I still didn’t know.

More questions whizzed around in my brain like a puck bouncing off the boards, and my pregame anxiety turned to full-on panic. I fought hard against the urge to run to the bathroom.

“Jace!” a familiar voice shouted, snapping me out of my doomsday headspace.

I looked up to find my friend, and the captain of the Cougars, Dane St. Pierre, standing at the doorway to the locker room.

“You coming or what? We need our best forward if we want to smash this fucking game,” Dane teased with a big grin on his face.

I could always count on Dane to cheer me on, and I couldn’t lie; I was a total praise slut. Hey, I was a hockey player, we all have big egos that need stroking on the regular.

“Yeah, I’m coming already,” I fired back and popped to my feet.

Grabbing my stick from the stall, I followed my friend as we made our way out of the locker room and down the chute to the rink. The closer we got to the ice, the faster my pulse thrummed. My stomach flipped over again but it was more about excitement.

As long as I kept moving, my intrusive thoughts wouldn’t win.

“Everything okay?” Dane asked.

I glanced at my friend and nodded. Now wasn’t the time to unload all the shit I’d been working on in my head since high school.

“Just school stuff.”

Dane’s eyes surveyed my face, and he shook his head. “Not buying it.”

I rolled my eyes and playfully smacked his padded chest with my gloved hand.

“Later, okay. We’ve got the game to worry about first.”

Dane smiled. “Jackson’s got the whole crew here today to make noise.”

I wasn’t the only one who came out recently. Dane told the team about his boyfriend—and dormmate—Jackson. They’d dated secretly in high school and reconnected here at Sutton. Since Jackson was a member of the rowing crew, he always had a group of friends with him to help cheer on our home games. Their antics were loud and sometimes crazy, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“There’s nothing like the buzz of playing for a home crowd,” I replied as we shuffled down the chute, the noise around us getting louder and louder. “I swear, I could live off of this feeling for weeks.”

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