Page 14 of One Shot

“We are going to have a hell of a season, and those girls are going to showcase us as the stars or the assholes we are. Don’t fuck around and find out what happens if you don’t get your shit together before the season starts.”

I linger in front of Mitchell and his cronies, ensuring they get the message.

“We need to build an even better reputation. This season is an important one. Not just for some of us, but for all of us.”

Someone whispers, “Is she related to Bellinger?”

“Yeah. Don’t make it a big deal but, Lauren Bellinger is Nick Bellinger’s sister.” Chills skitter down my spine as the words leave my mouth, but I’m not sure why.

“If you didn’t get to know him, it’s your loss.”

I find Mitchell again, looking him dead in the eyes before continuing to move through the locker room.

“You treat Lauren with respect. More respect than most of you show your mothers. Because I know Nick would kill any of you who disrespected his sister, especially in his locker room, no matter if you're his best friend or a newbie to this team. Liam and I will do the same.”

I intentionally seek out Mitchell to give him a final glare. He knows I am about to take this out on him once we are on the ice, and he’ll be in pain the rest of the week.

Being on the ice feels like home to me. The second I step onto it, the only things that matter are the feeling of gliding across the ice, my stick gripped tightly in my hand, and the game I am devoted to. No matter what’s going on in the rest of my life, the ice is my escape, my sanctuary. But not today. Lauren Bellinger still lingers in the back of my mind.

I force the team to run skating drills, hoping to quiet my mind. As we start passing drills, Coach calls me over.

“What’s going on, Donato?”

“What do you mean Coach?” Can he sense that my mind isn’t dedicated to the ice? Am I off my game?

“Just seems like your head might be elsewhere.”

“No, Coach, just needing to blow off some steam.”

Coach Andres taps the top of my helmet before instructing the team it’s time to scrimmage.

Liam skates over to me, offering me a fist bump to check in on me. Exhaling deeply, I signal to him I’m good with my gloved fist bump back before we skate into position and dominate our mock opponents.

After ten minutes into the scrimmage, my mind starts to focus but my emotions linger.

What would Nick Bellinger do?

Fueling my power with anger, I check Mitchell hard against the boards. I’m not someone who fights or antagonizes, but I am a captain who will make sure to teach players a lesson when they need it. Mitchell is a bad seed, and he needs a hell of a lot of lessons.

A minute later, I do it again, only this time I warn him in a low voice, “Get your act together. I won’t warn you again, Mitchell. Do not fuck with Lauren Bellinger.”

Chapter eight

Laur

The blaring alarm jolts me awake. Two early days in a row. My warm, cozy bed is calling to me to crawl back in and sleep longer. I am going to have to get used to this whole early morning routine.

After meeting with the coach and the team, Bren told Suz and me we would meet for an early lunch today. She suggested we come to our lunch meeting with fundraiser ideas and story ideas for newbies on the team and our Sexy Seven. She mentioned we’d also discuss divvying up responsibility for articles and content around the seven featured players throughout the season. That means I’m about to be close with two or three of them. I pray Tyler is one, and I pray even harder that Captain Lucas Donato is not.

I’m debating if I want to squeeze a run in before diving into a brainstorming session, so I have something to share during the meeting. Nick would always talk about running in the mornings on campus. Despite my lack of enthusiasm about running more than a mile at a time, I toughen up and decided to give it a go. Maybe it will make me feel closer to Nick. He swore after six miles he always got a runner’s high. I never believed him.

I’ve usually found running the opposite of peaceful. Today is no exception. It didn’t take my mind off anything. Instead it gave me time to think about literally all the things I didn’t want to think about: Nick not being here; the pressure from being part of the Wyverns’ Student Marketing Team; finding myself again; the four classes I need to get books for and one that somehow already has an assignment; the delicious V I got a glimpse of on Lucas’ body in thelocker room.

I only hit four miles. Maybe I don’t run far enough to get a runner’s high and escape the world. Or maybe my mind races faster than my feet and I’ll never reach that anxiety-free euphoric high no matter how far I go.

After I grab a quick breakfast and shower, I dig through my room to find one of my many planners and notebooks, needing to jot down some ideas to take with me to the WSMP meeting—Wyverns’ Student Marketing Program, but Bren usually just calls it “the gals’ hockey meeting.” I finally find them shoved in a box in my closet. I guess I didn’t do as great of a job unpacking and organizing as I thought.

I spot a small, plain black, leather notebook in the box. This notebook is one hundred percent, not mine. If I was going to have a black notebook, it would have shiny gold or silver foiled letters and decals. I open it and slam it shut immediately, throwing the book. On the inside front cover, in the sloppiest male handwriting I have ever seen, it says “Nick Bellinger.”

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