Page 5 of Heart of Ice

“Of course.” I limped off to the locker room and tried not to show how much fucking pain I was actually in now that the adrenaline was wearing off. That puck to the face had rung my bell and I had a pounding headache to go with the pain that tore through my knee which almost made me forget all the other painful areas—almost.

“Max, I need to speak to you,” Coach said as soon as I entered the room.

“Sure, can I shower first?”

“Not yet. This will only take a minute then I want you to get everything checked out. You took some pretty good hits out there. How are you feeling?” he asked as he started leading me back to his office.

“I’m okay,” I lied.

He turned to me with a smirk as he opened his door. “Have a seat. I wanted to ask you how serious you are about staying with the team. I know we’re new and most of the guys we have will probably move on as soon as they get a better offer. But I want to keep a good lineup.” He sat in his seat and folded his hands on the desk as he waited for me to answer.

Ignoring the fact I was sitting in a chair that was way too small for all my equipment, I forced myself not to squirm. “I didn’t join the team with the intent to leave anytime soon. I like playing where I live, and I haven’t been able to do that for a while.” Playing out of state had been a great experience, but I was ready to be home.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I know Dexter spoke to you. I want to move him up to be an assistant coach position. He’s earned it, and he’s more than qualified. How do you feel about moving up to the second position?”

“I hadn’t thought about it at all. Are you sure that’s what’s best for the team?” I asked because I didn’t want to be the new guy that fucked everything up for everyone.

“After how you played tonight, I have no doubt we picked the right guy for the job. Vanel still needs more time to heal and until then you’re our guy. I’m going to put out some feelers for a third-string just in case. I don’t like to not be prepared.”

I sat there, not sure if I should go or stay, when he stood and held his hand out. “I’ll have them change the terms of your contract and you’ll want someone to look at it to be sure all the terms are acceptable. Now, go get checked out, and we have a tradition of going out as a team after every home game. Tonight is more special since it’s the first night in the arena and because we kicked some Canadian ass. I’d love for you to join everyone.”

“I guess. I don’t usually drink before a game, and since we’re playing again tomorrow, I’d be happy to stay for dinner but then I’ll probably take off early.”

“That’s fine. It’s important to get to know all the players off the ice too,” he said and escorted me to the door. “Can you send Dexter in? I need to speak to him.” I nodded and walked back out into the locker room.

Dexter stood talking to Randall who was covered in sweat and blood. When he noticed me, his eyes followed me as I walked over to them. “Hey, Coach said he wants to speak to you.”

“Thanks. Hey, go have Doc look at you,” he said to Randall before walking off in the direction I’d just come.

“I think he means you,” Randall said with a crooked grin. His brow was split, and he’d probably have a black eye, but he was amped up and excited.

“You look worse than I do,” I said.

“Have you looked in the mirror?” he said just as the doctor walked into the locker room looking overwhelmed but still hot. I didn’t typically like long hair but his dark curls and green eyes just worked.

“That puck must have hit me harder than I thought,” I grumbled to myself before shaking my head. I glanced in the mirror and Randall was right, I did look at least as bad as he did. But then I glanced at the doctor again, and yep, he was hot.

Six

Ruben

The locker room wasloud with the sound of players celebrating and staff yelling at them to get cleaned up. “Doc, I’ll send them to your office as they’re ready,” one of the trainers said to me and I didn’t wait to be told twice; I left the room more than ready to get away from the chaos.

“Hey, can you look at this?” the goalie asked, and I reminded myself I needed to get to know their names.

He held his helmet, and I realized this was the first time I’d actually seen him. His dark hair was plastered to his head and the way he moved told me he was hurting. “Sure, come over here.” I led him to the medical area and tried to ignore how muscular he was when he stripped off what was left of his jersey leaving a tighter fitting long-sleeved undershirt. “That was quite a brawl,” I said and guided him onto an exam table.

“Yeah, they had it in for us,” he said and grimaced.

“What’s your name?”

“Hofstedder, Max,” he said and held his hand out. I stared at it a moment before shaking it and he once again grimaced at the movement.

“How much pain are you in?” I asked and started to examine the multitude of bruises that were already starting to appear.

“It’s not bad,” he said.

“Really? How’s the knee?” He slid his sock down and without even touching it I could see it was swollen. I was right, the stick had caught him just between his pads and there was a dark hematoma that had to be the point of contact.

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