Page 15 of Power Move
“Took a bit to get the rust knocked off, but I’m back to my old self.”
The two games I played last week weren’t my best, as I got my timing back and adjusted to the faster pace of the game. I’m ready to make a difference again.
Jonas helps himself to a croissant. “We just get you back, and then we lose Linus.”
Sage pauses with his next bite of cinnamon roll halfway to his mouth. “What happened to Linus?”
“Tore his ACL at practice today.” Quinn forks up some of the frittata.
“Ouch.” With a wince, Sage eats another bite. After he swallows, he looks at me. “Didn’t he do the same thing two years ago? I remember something about that.”
I think being distracted by Linus is the reason I messed up the invite to lunch. “Yeah, he did. Had surgery. Worked hard at rehab. I feel bad for him.”
Maxim sips his coffee, then peers at me over the rim of his mug. “Other players have torn their ACL more than once and come back, playing for several more years.”
“I know. But he’ll be thirty-two. He’s out for the rest of the year, and probably half of next season. He might end up retiring.” I set another cinnamon roll on Sage’s plate. “Now, we’re down a good winger and teammate.”
Quinn pours himself more coffee. “Everyone else will need to step up. Like they did while you were out. Losing you for half a season was a blow to our blue line’s chances of creating offense. With you out, Pettersson and Orlov got more minutes, but they’re negative offense players.”
“Everyone needs to stop getting injured.” I stab a blueberry.
Jonas steals a strawberry off Maxim’s plate. “We haven’t tried wrapping everyone in bubble wrap yet. I’ll pick up some on the way in tonight.”
Maxim elbows Jonas then steals a slice of his bacon. “Please don’t. Because you’ll end up using it for some prank and that’ll set off another war. I’m still finding pieces of confetti in my car from the last one.”
As Jonas and Maxim fill Sage in on the silly team shenanigans, I turn to Quinn. “The three guys who’ve repeatedly been healthy scratches lately need to do more, or why are they even here? We should send them down to the Slash for conditioning assignments and bring up some of their players.”
Quinn nods. “It’s being addressed. Coach had them stick around for meetings this afternoon.”
“I’m not trying to take over. I’m just frustrated.”
“It’s fine. You want to win. We all do.” He reaches over and pats my arm. He’s a good team captain.
Beneath the island, Sage lays his hand on my thigh and lightly squeezes. “It’ll be okay.”
His encouragement helps. I cover his hand with mine, linking our fingers together. “Thanks.”
The conversation turns to our upcoming games, then Maxim and Sage talk guitars and playlists while Jonas, Quinn, and I debate which restaurant we should go to for dinner in Vegas tonight. I wish Sage was coming with us. He’s definitely playing better than the guys we have riding the bench, and deserves a chance to show our team what he has.
After my friends leave to get ready for the road trip, I give Sage a quick tour of the rest of the apartment, saving my bedroom for last because I still need to pack.
His gaze lingers on the bed, and my cock throbs at the thought of the two of us spending time here, and the many things I want to do with him. I subtly adjust my jeans. “Have a seat anywhere.”
Ignoring the chair by the window in favor of the bed, he sits with a bounce, testing the mattress. “This is like a cloud.”
He looks like he belongs there. I drag my smaller suitcase from where I left it in the closet after the away game in Chicago, my first one back with the team. “Good sleep’s too important, and my old mattress wasn’t cutting it, so I upgraded last year.”
“I have a hard time falling asleep, even on game days when I know I need to nap.” He stands and wanders to my closet, leaning on the doorframe, watching me choose a suit. “I like the blue one.”
My hand stops on the navy checkered suit I bought before the start of the season. “This one?”
“Yeah. And that light blue shirt closest to it. They make your eyes seem even bluer.”
I grab the hangers. “I need another shirt too, as a backup.”
Lips pressed together, he studies the row of shirts before choosing a pink button-down and holding it up to me. “Done.”
We bring them to the open suitcase on the bed. He sits again while I grab clothes for going out to dinner and the basics I’ll need for the next few days, his fingers playing with the zipper tab, flicking it back and forth. “An extra dress shirt is always a good idea. Most of my teammates travel light, but I tend to overpack. There are too manyjust in casescenarios.”
