Page 125 of Two Guys One Puck
“What does that mean?”
“Loosely.” I pause, trying to come up with the English word. “Fool.”
He shoves his hands into his hair. “This is my last shot at winning the Frozen Four and making myself stand out for the NHL, and with everything going on with my family, I have to make this count. I’m here instead of at my father’s bedside, and if I know anything, I know you’re in the same place. I feel guiltyfor wanting to win and preventing you from it. What will happen if we get more involved?”
“I think is already too late for that.”
“I know.” He grabs his dead phone and his shirt and walks out of the room.
THIRTY-EIGHT
KTYTOR
My hands are fucked, and I can’t play for shit. We lose our game. The Gods win theirs, so they are done for the weekend, and we have to play another game tomorrow. Coach is understandably irate and demands to know what happened to my hands.
I don’t have an excuse, so I shrug. “Didn’t I fight on the ice yesterday? Probably that.”
“The fuck? I don’t know. Go see the fucking trainer.”
“Sure thing. I go. I go.” I leave, going to the trainer just to not have to deal with anyone.
Happy follows, speaking as soon as we’re out of earshot. “You weren’t fighting? What are you talking about?”
“When all else fails, gaslight, gate keep, girl boss…or whatever you Americans say.” I grin.
“Are you okay? You didn’t come back last night.”
“What are you asking?”
Happy toes the ground. “And I might have went looking for you last night when you didn’t come back. I saw you with Seaborn.”
Shit.
“And?” What can I even say?
“Did you two fight?”
I breathe. He thinks we were fighting not fucking. Thank the gods. “You don’t have to worry about him.”
“Is that a good idea this close to playing them?”
“I fought with a wall. Not Seaborn.”
He smiles. “Oh, good. I was worried.”
“If my hands look like this and Seaborn is still able to play, we didn’t fight.”
Happy weighs that. “Okay, that’s fair. I’ve seen you fight.”
“I’ll play better tomorrow. Go get dinner.”
I go outside to smoke after seeing the trainer. He told me to alternate between heat and ice, which I’m already doing. Waste of time.
I walk around the corner, so no one notices me as they come out to the bus. Someone shoves out of a different set of doors further down, and I glance up only to meet Seaborn’s eyes.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Whatever this is, I don’t fucking need it.”
I hold up my hands. “You found me. I was here first, ?????.” I realize what I’ve said, but it’s too late.
