Page 31 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“Just wait,” I said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RYDER
“Cassidy,” Coach bellowed from the bench. “Get your head in the game.”
I shook off a hit and raced after the Cleveland Monsters’ center. It fit, in some bizarre way, that they were our opponent tonight. I’d spent a good part of my career on their top line, trying to carve out a space for myself in the big leagues—theNHL.
A few call-ups later, and I was a bust.
Their hot-shot first-round pick deked around me before sliding the puck through the legs of our big Russian defender, Nikolai Mikhailov, and under Gonzo’s right arm. Nothing but net.
Wrongsport, but it still fit.
The goal light flickered on, and the Monsters celebrated. Play stopped, but it wasn’t our first extended stoppage. Our games were only streamed online, but even that came with commercials—advertisers needed their piece of the airspace.
I skated to the bench and stepped through the door, watching Huet take my place on the ice. Lifting my eyes to where I knew I’d find her, I spotted Sydney. She talked animatedly, a grin on her face, her entire body buzzing with energy.
At least someone was excited.
Teddy bumped my shoulder. “You okay, Cap?”
No, I wasn’t okay at all.
I followed his line of sight and realized he meant because Sam was here. At my game. Also Sullivan’s game, technically. For so many years, she’d sat in a similar spot and cheered for me. Only me.
“I’m fine,” I grunted. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Sam being here had barely registered. She wasn’t the reason I couldn’t focus. No, that honor went to my impending doom—the embarrassment I was about to unleash on myself because Sydney had dared me to consider it.
And once I had… Well, we had to get people in the building, didn’t we?
“Cassidy!” someone yelled from behind.
I turned to see my brother standing in the mouth of the tunnel, hands shoved deep into his suit pockets. He spent most games watching from up high, not on the bench. I tried to ignore him, to focus on the game, but he stepped up behind me.
“I’m…” He cleared his throat. “She begged me to come today.”
“Not my business.” It wasn’t. Over the last year, I’d had a fleeting thought about Sam not coming to a single game, but that was all it was—fleeting. Really, I tried not to think of them at all.
“She misses hockey.”
“So do I.” I pointed to the ice. “Gonna go back to watching my team, Coach.”
He sighed loud enough that the rest of the team probably heard, but no one reacted.
Teddy leaned closer. “Think Griff will care if I hit someone not in the game?”
Griff would probably say Sullie had it coming. When everything went down with Sam, Mr. Mac had warned Griff about the animosity between the Cassidy twins. Coach Griffin Grimshaw’s only take was that we needed to work our shit out, even if that meant physically.
Huet gathered the puck along the boards and took off toward the other end of the ice, two wingers trailing him. I stood with my teammates, waiting for that shot of his to tie the score.
Instead, Huet went sprawling forward, a stick wedged between his skates. Tripping.
A few of my teammates screamed at the Monsters’ players, at the refs. But I prepared myself.
What had I been thinking? I couldn’t do this. I, Ryder Cassidy, was an idiot. Each team skated to their respective benches as the ref led the Monsters’ player to the penalty box. We had a power play coming, but first, a break—a stoppage in play.
This was it.
