Page 89 of Broken Hearts
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Waiting outsideof the locker room, I can hear Coach Meyers’ voice bouncing off the walls inside. Silence finally falls and the head coach pushes out of the locker room. He lets out a breath, hands on hips, composing himself before he starts down the tunnel.
The team follows a minute later. The security guard that I begged to let me loiter in the tunnel, watches me closely. I smile at him again, giving him my best,I’m not a stalker or a serial killersmile that probably conveys the exact opposite.
Rhett appears and I push off the wall. “Rauthruss!”
His head lifts slowly and his brows scrunch together when he sees me. I stay put, as instructed by the guard and Rhett walks over.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, no, I just wanted to give you this.” I hold out my hand to give him the black rock his brother gave him yesterday and then took back this morning.
“How?”
“I sweet-talked a five-year-old boy, then bribed him with a foam finger. I’m not proud.” But I knew how important it was to him. I could see his disappointment this morning.
“Thank you.” His sweaty, heavily padded body steps forward and he hugs me.
“Now, go give someone a black eye.”
The security guard clears his throat.
“I was joking. It was a joke. He gave me a black eye—” I stop when the guard’s hard face remains impassive. I have not made a friend. I look back to Rhett who is still standing in front of me looking down at the rock in his hand like it’s a diamond. “Go,” I tell him.
“Thank you.” He smiles and jogs after his teammates.
I get back to my seat as the second period is about to begin.
“There you are,” Dakota says. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I take a seat and the four of us join hands. “They’ve got this, right?”
“They’ve got it,” Reagan says with more confidence than I feel.
But as the second period begins and then ends, it seems like our optimism was on point. Valley fought back and now leads three to one, thanks to two goals by Maverick and some impressive saves from Ketcham.
“I’m so sweaty.” Ginny fans her shirt away from her body. She looks to us. “Why am I the only one sweating?”
“You’ve been jumping up and down for the better part of two hours,” Dakota says.
“I want this for them so bad.” Ginny blows out a breath that puffs out her cheeks.
The third period is chaotic. Both teams are skating hard and hitting even harder. The coaches are red-faced, standing at their opposing benches shouting at their players. And every person in the arena is glued to the action on the ice.
It remains scoreless for the first fifteen minutes. Every time Watervillle has the puck, I hold my breath and hope they don’t score. It’s been close too many times and Ketcham deserves a freaking medal for the number of saves he makes.
At the two-minute mark, his luck runs out and the red and black shirts stand and cheer around the arena.
“It’s just one goal. We’re still ahead,” Reagan says. “We’ve got this.”
The words barely leave her mouth before Waterville gets a breakaway and scores again.
“Oh fuck,” Reagan mutters. Her sudden worry and lack of conviction that we’ve still got this makes my chest ache.
“Should I take off the shirt?” Dakota asks. “Maybe I cursed them.”
“You didn’t curse them. They’ve got this,” I say in my most convincing voice.
