Page 62 of Rush the Edge

The last thing I need is even more thoughts of Daisy in my head right now.

Malaki grins, and it takes every bit of maturity not to trip him with my stick before he skates off. He turns and calls over his shoulder. “By the way, she just showed up.”

I spin on my skates.

With that eye-catching shimmer on her cheeks, Daisy takes the ice with those foam tridents again. Only, this time, she manages to throw them up and over the glass to the fans without needing help from anyone.

Twenty-Three

DAISY

I spent the day napping,tending to my plants, which always eases my stress, and avoiding my brother, who can’t help but dote on me when he knows I’m struggling.

Refusing to let my fatigue win, I pumped myself full of all the natural remedies I could manage in a day before slipping into my devil’s costume and showing up for the game.

I waited until the very last second before making an appearance because I’m a big ol’ chicken. I read through the texts between River and Kane that were left on my phone, and I’m happy to know that, for the first time in his life, River didn’t betray my trust when it came to his best friend.

Take that, Kane.

Of course, it ended with a lecture from River that I should tell Kane about my diagnosis because he could tell that he was worried. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his best friend actually holds a grudge against me and that he only wants to know because he wants something to hold over my head.

Once the final period starts, I slip away and rest against a wall. Peppermint fills my senses, blocking out the smell of ice and sweaty hockey players, as I rub some more cream on my achy joints. There’s a TV off in the corner, displaying the game, so I stand back and watch the Blue Devils put in the work.

By the time the game is nearing the end, my hands are sweating, and my pulse is racing. It’s tied with two minutes to go. I pace back and forth, watching the second line jump over the wall and take the ice. Our goalie heads for the bench, pulling another player onto the ice to make it six on five.

Unable to watch from afar with the crowd roaring in the background, I anxiously rush toward the wall beside the bench. There are managers and security nearby, but with my devil’s costume on, I stand in between them without question.

My bottom lip is raw from nibbling nervously on it.

The clock is rapidly ticking away.

The puck ping-pongs between the Blue Devils. Back and forth. Back and forth. And then, it flies in the air toward our net.

“No!” I shout.

The security guard glances at me for a second before we’re both laser-focused on the ice again.

A hero comes out of nowhere in a blue jersey to snag the puck out of thin air with his gloved hand.

Number 3. Barlow.

He drops it down and skates viciously toward the other net, passing it back and forth.

“Come on, Kane!” I whisper-shout.

His stick winds backward, and just when I think he’s going to send it into the net, he surprises me and the rest of the arena by tricking the other team. He passes it to the left to Crew Hart, and into the net it goes.

The goal buzzer sounds, and I shout along with the rest of the crowd.

I’d forgotten how exhilarating it is to watch hockey, especially when you’re invested in it.

I’m invested because it’s my job, though.

There is no other reason than that.

I quickly move out of the way when the rest of the team takes the ice to celebrate.

Two hands grip my shoulders, and I spin around quickly. Cindy is standing there with a huge smile on her face before she crushes me to her chest to give me a hug. “What a game!” she shouts into my ear.

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