Page 14 of Arrogant Puck

By the time I’m off the ice, my shirt’s stuck to my back and my hip’s barking from that cheap shot in the second drill. I don’t say anything about it.

Coach says, “Hard head, go into that room over there.”

I glance over my shoulder. He keeps pressuring me to get checked but I refuse.

“Even if you’re not going to admit it, I can see it. Go into that room, Slater. Right now.”

I nod to Coach, toss my helmet into the bin, and head to the trainers’ room.

It’s not my first injury, and it won’t be my last.

Inside, it smells like antiseptic and sweat.

There’s that new girl at the taping table. Dark ponytail. Calm hands. Doesn’t look up when I walk in, which earns her a point.

Most of them get wide-eyed when they see me. They want something—attention, validation, a good fuck. She just keeps taping a forward’s ankle, like I’m another body passing through.

I sit on the edge of the exam table and start peeling off my pads.

Riley, the head trainer, walks over. “You need eval?”

I shrug. “Hip took a hit. It’ll settle.”

“Is that your professional opinion?”

“It’s the one I’m using.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t push. Riley knows better. He’s been patching me up for years.

“You need a stretch?” he asks.

“I’ll do it at home.”

“Bullshit, but fine.”

“Clear me for tomorrow.”

He shakes his head but agrees anyway.

I catch the new girl watching from the corner of her eye.

Curious. Not interested.

Another point.

I shower fast and head out through the back lot. My car’s an old matte-black Defender I shipped up from my off-season place. It’s loud, overbuilt, and stupid-expensive. Which is exactly why I like it.

The ride home takes twenty minutes. I live in a gated house just outside the city—quiet street, long driveway, one neighbor close enough to make noise complaints but too scared to.

It’s big. Open. Clean because I pay someone to clean it. Empty because I like it that way. After my dad left and my mom went off the deep end, I went to college, and the only thing that helped was silence.

I pull on my sweats. Microwave leftover pasta. Eat it standing up while the game replays in the background.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out.

Lexi: You in town this weekend?

Lexi: Bringing a friend x

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