Page 6 of Power Move
We came so close last season, only to lose in game seven of the finals. Tension tightens within me, and I increase my speed around the obstacles. Our core group of guys won’t be together forever. The injuries this season haven’t helped. Our shot at redemption is fading.
“I can’t believe I get to play with you.” Yanni passes me the puck, then hops over the next cone. “I’m looking forward to learning from you and hope it helps improve my game.”
At twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight years old, I feel so old compared to him, but I remember being that young and hungry to soak up every scrap of hockey knowledge I could. “I’ll probably learn something from you too.”
“You think?”
“Sure. From what I saw of the videos earlier, you read the ice really well.” If I can help him this week, I will.
Beaming at me, he skates backward, riding the blue line. “Thanks.”
The coaches divide the team into two for a half speed scrimmage, focusing on breakouts and forechecks. Soren Lindstrom is in goal behind me. Gio Richetti and Phil Nguyen are the D-pair at the other end of the ice, behind Sage and Morgan’s line.
Play begins. I get so caught up watching Sage move across the ice, his speed and skill, that I have to scramble to defend against him. Carrying the puck across the blue line, he streaks in fast. I fail to strip him of the puck, but Soren blocks it from ending up in the back of the net. The goalie gives me a knowing grin as he flips it off his stick.
All I can do is shrug and smile, and remind myself to focus. But with Sage drawing me like a beacon, that seems almost impossible.
“Hey, Rhys. Wanna have lunch with us?” Sage closes his locker, a few down from mine. The chatter from his teammates and the clangs of lockers slamming closed bounces off the walls as guys head out.
My first practice is over, and I’m starving. I grab my coat and check that I’ve pocketed my phone and wallet. “Sure. Where’re you headed?”
Drawing on the long, puffy coat he wore the other night, he steps over the bench seat. “Our house. Remy cooked some kind of chicken thing.”
“Way to sell it.” Morgan bats him on the arm. Then laughs. “I don’t know what it’s called either, but it’s good.”
“I’m in. It’ll be nice having someone to eat with. Jonas went away for a few days. We usually eat together since he lives in my building.”
Sage hands me his phone. “Add yourself to my contacts, and I’ll text you the address.”
The coat could fit two of him inside, and he looks quite cozy. Our hands brush together. Heat rushes into me from that tiny connection.
Soren, Gio, and Phil join us. “Ready to go?” Phil asks.
I enter my info and pass his phone back. “Did you all drive here together?”
“Nope. Two cars. Early squad,” Soren points to himself, Gio, and Phil. “And the late boys,” he points at Sage and Morgan.
“We’re neverlate.” Sage scoffs, typing into his phone. “We’re just not here at the crack of dawn.”
My phone chimes. I check the notification. Sage has sent the address and included a link to directions.
“Eight AM is not the crack of dawn.”
Morgan shifts to stand beside Sage, a united front against the goalie. “Might as well be.”
“I’m starving.” Gio nudges Soren forward. “We’ll see you at home.”
Sage smirks at Soren’s retreat before shouldering his bag and turning to me. “The drive takes about fifteen minutes, mostly on I-94. You can park behind us in the driveway.”
We walk outside together. The cold air stings my face and hands. Bracing against the breath-stealing wind, I speed walk to my car. Sage and Morgan climb into Sage’s SUV. Traffic isn’t bad as we drive across Saint Paul. I’m able to keep them in sight the entire way.
Their house is much bigger than I expected. A three-story Victorian with lots of windows, a few balconies, and a turret. Pulling into the driveway behind Sage’s car, I wave at Morgan, jogging up the path.
Sage waits for me outside his car, his hair ruffled by the wind, and big coat flapping open. Together, we hurry up the brick lined path.
He opens the door and gestures for me to enter ahead of him. Heat envelopes me like a hug as I walk inside. The entryway has dark wood and white walls. The rooms flanking it continue the style. A piano, I’m guessing Remy’s, sits in one.
The stained glass window in the door catches the light as Sage closes, then locks it. “Here, I’ll take your coat.”
