Page 24 of Misconduct Zone

My heart soars as if the two of us are an obvious conclusion, but realistically, Dylon could change his mind. He was upset about his family last night, and I am his source of comfort. In truth, my heart has to slow down for survival more than the impact of Dylon’s issues. I trust him, not me.

I would never take advantage of him and tried to remove myself from his room. Although every cell in my body ached to kiss him, I never would have kissed him first. This has to be his decision every step of the way.

The past has taught me to learn from my mistakes. I would rip my heart out with my bare hands before harming his recovery or pressuring him before he’s ready.

Most of my clothes are packed, and I remember to grab the suit from yesterday out of the closet. Dylon isn’t on the bus when I drop into a window seat to save a place for him. I check my watch, and my anxiety spikes as the driver boards the bus. We’re about to leave.

“Where’s your boy?” Gray asks from the aisle seat across from me.

“He should be here.” I debate texting or calling him, but that will only slow him down.

“Did he oversleep?” Gray presses.

I shrug because if Ace didn’t tell Gray I was in Dylon’s room, it is not my duty to explain. The fewer people who know, the better for Dylon until he is sure about us.

My shoulders fall in relief as he runs out of the hotel in his wrinkled suit with his ball cap on backward. He has to ask the driver to reopen the undercarriage to stow his luggage.

“Dude.” Benz laughs as Dylon huffs down the aisle. “You look like you just ran out of a puck bunny’s room and threw on the same suit.”

“Funny,” he retorts without his usual comeback, but he offers me a shy smile.

No one thinks it’s odd that Dylon is wearing yesterday’s suit. He has done it in the past, and that takes the pressure off him to make up an excuse. We don’t talk as the bus pulls away from the hotel.

I do not regret last night and have hope for the future for us, but I fear I’m not doing the right thing. My therapist would offer advice, but because of our extended road trip, I am missing my appointment this week. We couldn’t coordinate a time. Therapy has helped me process my loss, and I am dedicated to it, but I will not do a session where the team can hear.

Dylon slouches in his seat and spreads his legs so he’s pressed against me. When he leans over, his hand squeezes my calf, branding me with his touch.

We don’t get a private moment to talk all day, but he’s chipper and cannot stop grinning. In a stolen moment, I explain what Ace saw this morning. We agree that spending the night together on the road is risky, especially since we live together.

I hate the separation but need some space to talk my heart into a neutral response. Dylon has never been in a relationship with a man. He understands the logistics of men having sex, but being a participant is different. Kissing and grinding on each other cannot prepare him for what will come if he decides.

During our pregame ritual, the team atmosphere has improved since Detroit. We enjoyed a team lunch outside on a sunny Tampa restaurant patio. Sunshine can lift the darkest souls and shift a hockey player’s mindset.

At the rink, Ace stands on a bench in the middle of the team. “Listen up. It’s a new day and a new game. Play how I know you can, and we’ll come away with a W.”

“He means keep your head out of your asses.” Liska pounds his stick on the floor.

As we skate onto the ice for warm-ups, we’re met with deafening boos. It fires me up, and when I glance at Dylon, he grins ear to ear. We love to shut up hometown fans.

The puck drops, and with tunnel vision, I pass it to Ace, who streaks down the ice. Our passes are crisp, and the defense is a step behind us. Dylon’s shot hits the pipe, the goalie gets his stick on it, and we’re racing to intercept the puck.

Our line gets called in with no score, and the cycle repeats itself until the last second in the first period. Our defender pokes the puck away from the Tampa forward and skates against the clock. Griffin is ready for the pass and in scoring position, but our defender takes a shot and the lamp lights up as the buzzer ends the first period.

Coach is not happy that the team did not execute the set play but congratulates the defender on the goal. The message is clear: it worked out this time, but do not do it again. The team slaps his back, and Ace messes with his sweaty hair.

This time when the puck drops, I am half a second too slow, but Dylon gets his stick out to interrupt the pass. After chasing the puck, Tampa slams him intothe boards to gain control. My movements are second nature as I strip the puck, passing it to Ace while accidentally tangling with their center so he goes down. No trips or checking, only a barely perceptible hip twist so he eats ice.

We skate as a unit, and when Dylon passes to me, my wrist flick sends the puck into the goal. Our two-goal lead only lasts a few minutes. Everyone does their job, but Tampa fights like hell to win at home. The crowd stays involved, which makes us dial in, and the game gets physical. I never tolerate my teammates receiving unnecessary hits into the boards.

At the end of the second period, the score remains one to two in our favor.

“Watch out, the dragon’s on the ice tonight.” Liska taps my stick as I pour water down my throat.

“Looking out for my teammates,” I acknowledge with a nod. My reputation as the Enforcer of the Enforcers has been earned through hard hits and occasional fights. The nickname, the dragon, stuck, and I do not know if they realize it is part of the translation of my last name.

Richardson did not click with the second line and has not taken being demoted to the third line well. They don’t trust each other, and Coach severely limits their playing time. Richardson blames everyone else for their inability to score, but he is a cancer on the team. Coach should have traded him.

The third period has more aggressive hits, and one earns me time in the sinbin. I try to remain under the ref’s radar, but everyone is physical and I cannot retaliate for each hit. They tie the game up during the power play.

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