Page 78 of Face Off
I watch him go, coffee warming my hands, and realise he’s right. I do.
Maybe he’s right, maybe I do finally belong somewhere.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
OLLIE
The locker room goes quiet the second I walk in. Not silent, exactly, there’s still the squeak of skates on the rubber floor, the snap of tape ripping, the thud of sticks into racks, but the air shifts, heavy in that way you can feel more than hear. Conversations cut short. A couple of the younger lads glance at me and then quickly look away.
Murphy, though? He doesn’t look away. He grins, sharp and mean, like he’s waiting for me to slip.
I drop my bag on the bench with more force than necessary, yank at my laces. Pretend I don’t notice. Pretend I can’t feel the eyes. But it follows me all the way onto the ice.
Drills start choppy, passes fumbling off sticks, nobody in rhythm. Coach’s whistle slices the air, short and furious. “Pick it up! You look like a bloody beer league!”
We reset for sprints, lungs burning before the first whistle even blows. The second I push off, Murphy’s there, stride for stride, breath hot against my ear.
“Bit slow today, Romeo. Legs worn out?” His laugh is sharp, carrying just far enough that the rookies snicker before catching themselves.
I grit my teeth, drive harder. He leans again, voice low and pointed. “Maybe try keeping your stick on the ice instead of in the showers, yeah?”
The words slam into me, bile rising. My stride stutters, just for a second. He notices, of course he notices, and his grin widens.
Next rep, he doesn’t let up. “Bet Coach loves knowing his winger’s head’s in his trousers instead of the game.”
Something in me snaps hot, but before I can whip around and make it worse, a puck whistles across the ice and clatters off Murphy’s shin pads.
“Eyes forward, Ollie!” Jacko yells, loud enough for Coach to hear. He’s already coasting past, stick cocked like he meant to bank that puck into Murphy all along.
The guys laugh, tension easing a notch, and I force myself to focus on the next sprint.
Practice doesn’t get better. Coach runs us into the ground, drills until my hip feels like it’s tearing in two. Murphy never stops yapping, calling me “lover boy,” telling rookies not to “catch whatever I’ve got.” Every barb digs in, festering. I ignore him until ignoring feels like bleeding out.
By the time we stumble off the ice, sweat dripping and lungs raw, I want nothing more than to peel my gear off and vanish. But Murphy isn’t done.
He slams his stick into the rack, eyes flicking at the rookies as he talks loud enough to fill the room. “We can’t afford distractions. Not with the standings this tight. Some of us care about the team more than our conquests.”
The silence is suffocating. No one names her, but Chloe’s there in every glance.
I slam my helmet onto the shelf, fingers trembling. I’m seconds from exploding when Jacko’s voice cuts clean through.
“Knock it off.” Calm, steady, no room for argument.
Murphy smirks. “What, you his babysitter?”
Jacko doesn’t blink. “I’m his mate. And I’m not sitting here while you poison the room because you can’t handle your own history. You’ve got a problem with him or Chloe? Take it up with Coach. But don’t drag the rest of us into it.”
The rookies shift uncomfortably. Dylan lifts his brows but stays quiet, Jonno shakes his head. Everyone’s waiting to see if Murphy swings. He doesn’t, not this time. Just mutters under his breath and slams his gear into his bag like the room insulted him personally.
The tension leaves me strung out, heart still hammering as if we’re mid-game. I sit heavy on the bench, hands shaking as I untape my stick. Jacko drops beside me, pressing a Tupperware box into my lap.
“Carrot cake muffins,” he says, like nothing happened. “Eat one before you combust.”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Sugar solves everything.” He pulls one out for himself, takes a massive bite, cheeks bulging. “See?”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Dylan grabs one too, then Jonno. Even a rookie sneaks one while Murphy storms out. Just like that, Jacko’s reclaimed the room.
