Page 50 of Stick It
I read the note again before glancing around. Did Lucas leave this for me to find? It’s the kind of thing the person he pretended to be would do. Is this just another way for him to fuck with me?
But…it doesn’t fit.
Looking back down at it, the handwriting, although messy as if written in a hurry, isn’t familiar.
So if it wasn’t Lucas, then who?
Bear might rain down praise on me but he’d do it to my face, not in a cryptic note. And anyone else on the team…they might be looking at me with a newfound respect after that goal, but that doesn’t mean they’re about to blow smoke up my ass.
“You coming?” Jax asks.
I look up, startled. He’s standing a few steps ahead, waitingon me. Casting a final glance over my shoulder, I stuff the note in my pocket and jog to catch up to him. “Yeah, I’m coming.”
We fall into step, the fluorescent lights humming overhead as we make our way through the arena halls.
“If you don’t hang out with the team, what do you do after a loss?” I ask as we step outside, Jax barely fitting through the door with both our bags slung over his shoulders. The crowd from the game has already dissipated, with only a few stragglers hanging around in front of the building.
“Same thing I do after a win,” he responds with a shrug. “Go home, decompress, play some video games.”
“The violent kind where you pretend you’re shooting the opposing team, or like the racing, sports kind?”
I catch a flash of his straight white teeth before he says, “Depends on how badly we lost.”
“Losing the first game of the year, I’d say that’s a pretty bad one.”
“Yeah, but it was only an exhibition game.”
“I’m not sure everyone else on the team will see it that way.”
“Unlikely. Ethan’s probably replaying every minute, trying to figure out what we could have done differently. Finn will be itching to get to the bar to down a few beers before hooking up with the first girl who hits on him and forget about the loss.” Thankfully Jax doesn’t notice when my face involuntarily scrunches at that image. “And Reed…” He cuts himself off, grimacing. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I wave him away as we walk through the campus gates and onto the sidewalk toward Athletes Row. “We both know Reed is most likely blaming me and making sure everyone else knows it’s my fault, too.”
He sighs, the sound heavy in the otherwise still night. “Kyle’s always a dick at the start of the year when fresh meat comes along. He’ll ease up as the season gets underway.”
I arch a brow at him. “I bet none of thatfresh meatever beat him out for his spot.”
Jax’s lips practically disappear, he flattens them so hard.
“That’s what I thought.” I nod, silence falling between us. The only noise is the sound of our footsteps against the ground and the mewling of a cat nearby.
“Look,” I sigh. “I don’t care. I’m plenty used to being hated.” I catch the dipping of Jax’s eyebrows but push on before he can ask any probing questions. “But I earned my spot fair and square. I proved tonight that I can handle myself against bigger, tougher opponents, and I’ll keep proving it. If the Steelhawks don’t make it to the Frozen Four, it won’t be because you hada girl on the team. Just like the reason the Glaciers didn’t make it the past two years wasn’t because of me. I was a convenient scapegoat for them to dump all their blame and frustration on, but I know the truth.” In a smaller, softer voice, I add, “With time, I hope you all will too.”
Jax doesn’t say anything until we turn onto Athletes Row.
“You never told me how you unwind after a game.”
I’m taken aback by the change in subject, but truthfully, I’m grateful for it. I shrug, knowing he’s going to make fun of me. Still, I admit, “I work out. Or if I’m beat, I fall into Ethan’s camp. I search for footage of the game online, then replay it, mentally changing plays and seeing what outcome that might have provided instead.”
“Of course you do,” Jax drolls, shaking his head, before glancing at me from the corner of his eye as we climb the porch steps of the house. “Can I ask you a question?” He pauses at the front door, turning to face me instead of heading inside.
“Uh, sure.”
“Do you ever give yourself a night off?”
My lips part, but no answer forms.
I used to. I used to take time off to do non-hockey-relatedthings with my parents. Or, most likely, hockey-related activities that didn’t revolve around me or developing my skills and ensuring I’m the best.
