Page 23 of Pucker Up
“Not you, Bailey.”
Over my shoulder, Coach directed Gideon to the right-wing position.
My morning had gone from bad to worse. He was going to make me run the drill with Gideon. “Sorry, Coach. I heard Bailey.”
Coach rubbed his chin. “I can see how that would confuse you. From now on, you’re Ace.” He pointed to the far side of the ice. “Bailey, get into position.”
Gideon got to keep the Bailey name. I took a deep breath. My brother and I had been practicing drills since we could walk. From playing with mini-sticks in the hallway of our country bungalow, to playfully body-checking each other into the snowbanks of our community’s backyard rink, there was no other player that I knew better. Since our falling out, I hadn’t done any one-on-one work with him. We’d been on separate teams, and were rarely on the ice at the same time, that is, until we were traded to the Tigers.
The whistle sounded. The arena went silent except for the sound of my skates cutting through the ice. The ruts Holmes and I had created with our multiple attempts seemed to melt into a clean sheet. Out of the corner of my eye, the flash of orange told me that Gideon was exactly where he needed to be. I knew how he accepted the puck, and he knew how I hit it. We executed the play like we had written the damn thing—perfectly.
Our paths crossed behind the net, but I kept my gaze focused on one of the advertisements deep in the corner, hoping that he didn’t see the tears in my eyes.
We both came to a stop on either side of Coach Swanson. He glided backwards and gave a satisfied nod. “That was beautiful.”
Gideon grunted and I shrugged.
“You two need to sort out your shit. This team is like a ship, and you two are fucking cannons, blowing holes in its hull.”
“Are you calling the team a sinking ship?” Gideon’s voice was low.
“I am.” Coach turned to face my brother. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“That’s usually the captain’s fault.” The captain of the team was Harrison Banks, but we both knew that Gideon wasn’t referring tothatcaptain.
Gideon’s blatant criticism seemed to catch both Coach and me off guard. He was the strong, silent type. Coach looked like he’d been slapped. Redness traveled from the collar of his jacket all the way up to his ears. “Bailey, as the captain ofthissinking ship, I’m pulling you from the lineup on Saturday.”
“Wait. What?” Gideon had been resting his chin on the knob of his hockey stick. “You just said that it’s time for the team to sink or swim, or sail, or whatever the fuck metaphor you used.”
“It is.” Coach skated away.
The door to the home team’s bench clattered as Coach disappeared, leaving Gideon and me alone for the first time in months.
“Did that just happen?” I spoke, more to myself than to Gideon, staring at the spot where Coach had left the ice. “What is he doing?”
Even though we were losing, Gideon led the team in scoring, and not just by a little. He was also a cornerstone in most of the plays.
I hadn’t expected Gideon to reply, and he didn’t. He took off his helmet and skated away. Then he did something I’d never seen him do. He sat on the bench and held his face in his gloves. Skating slowly toward the bench, I felt like I was watching a movie—one where I didn’t recognize the star. “Are you all right?” Was Gideon crying?
The door to the bench creaked as I stepped through it and onto the rubberized flooring.
Gideon looked up and his icy eyes met mine. His completely dry eyes. As much as I wanted to see my robot brother get upset about something, the thought of tears in his eyes was unnerving.
“I’m fine.” He squinted. “It’s these damn headaches.”
I grabbed one of the water bottles and handed it to him. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
He shook his head and smacked the bottle out of my hand. “I’m not the one who was out drinking all night. Save the electrolytes for your sorry ass.”
I bit my lip so hard it seared with pain. I took a step away, but then stopped. “No.” I had apologized to Gideon for something that I didn’t do, and he had spent the last year being a dick to me. I was done. “Coach is right. You’re like mold on a ship.”
“What?” His dark brow shifted into a v-shaped anger wrinkle.
“I mean, your shitty attitude is poisoning this team. Get over yourself.”
For a big guy, Gideon was lighting fast on the ice, but he was even faster on land. His fist crunched into my jaw so fast I hadn’t even registered the fact that he’d dropped his gloves. Totally unprepared for the punch, I staggered backwards and stepped on a water bottle. I crashed to the ground, my body saved by my protective padding.
Gideon flew from the bench and landed on me. He straddled my body with his knees on either side of me. His arm reared high above his head for a punch. On the ground with my arms pinned, I was helpless and winced, waiting for the strike.
