Page 58 of Scoring Zone
“Let’s not hear that again.” I slap players’ pads and encourage everyone on the bench.
King and Griff connect to put us on the board, and that ramps the crowd up even more, rooting for their team.
I vault over the wall with Drake and Lucky, ready for battle. The crowd boos and hisses every time we have possession of the puck. This game is being played in the middle of the ice more than against the boards.
They are chirping and itching to fight. Drake keeps his cool, and our shift ends without a brawl but also no goal. Our defense breaks down again, and I hope we can fix our problems before the playoffs. Kenney stands out as fast and skilled, but he’s young, and we need a seasoned player to lead by example. We probably have two of the best goalies in the league, but we can’t expect them to save shot after shot.
The first period flies by, and we’ve kept out of the sin bin, so I’m calling that a win. On my next shift, I’m tripped and eat the ice, slow to get up. It knocked the wind out of me, but the game doesn’t stop, I decide not to ask for a sub.
By the time my line exits the ice, Grayson’s fury radiates off him as he assesses me.
“Got the wind knocked out of me. All good.” I catch his eye, but he frowns. “It’s true.”
Gray nods and moves down the bench to check in with Lucky and Drake.
During the next intermission, he drags me into the treatment room to inspect my ribs, pressing his fingers in and listening to my breathing.
“See. I’m fine.” I pull everything back into place.
“I knew when you went down, it was a bad hit.” He bites the scar on his lip.
“Thank you for looking out for me, but don’t go soft on me,” I joke and punch him in the arm.
Liska looms in the doorway, needing a quick treatment, so I join the team in the locker room. I’m torn between loving Gray’s attention and being nervous that he’s overreacting. It’s not his usual thing, and I didn’t see myself fall. Sometimes falls look worse than they are, and sometimes a small trip results in a tear needing surgery. I put his concerns behind me and focus on winning the game.
They’re ahead by one with only three minutes left, and Lucky fires me a pass in front of the goal while the tender is turned toward Drake. It’s an easy shot to slip in, but it hits the pipe and bounces back. A Dallas player gets his stick on it, and I race down the ice to catch him.
It isn’t our night. Dallas penetrates our defenses with precision and always finds our weakest link. We couldn’t keep up the retaliation scores and lose by one.
We’re still ahead in points, and it’s not a huge detriment to our goal of winning The Cup, but we’re better than how we played tonight.
Gray slings his arm around me in a buddy hug after the game. His combination of clean cotton and medicinal smell eases my tension. His presence has always calmed me. The worst games were the losses before he lived with me. I had a hard time decompressing. In hindsight, I should’ve realized he’s more than a friend. I foolishly wasted so much time we could’ve been together.
If I could get away with it, I’d skip the team dinner. It’s one of those nights I’d prefer solitude with Gray. My body’s sore, and I played a shit game. And as if he reads my mind, he tells the teamI need recovery time to play in LA and can’t attend the team dinner.
I’m so grateful, I zone out and let Gray call us a ride share back to the hotel. Having my best friend here is a luxury I don’t take for granted.
When Gray holds out his hand palm up, I’m not sure what he wants until I notice we’re standing outside of my room. I fish out the keycard and slide it into his hand. He grins, knowing I could easily open the door, but I’m letting him take charge.
The door closes behind us. “You’re only one man on the team. There were lots of missed shots. In fact, the team missed thirty-two shots, which is an all-time high for this season.” He cups my face so I have to look him in the eyes. “The loss was not your fault, and even if you had made that shot, it was not a guaranteed win.” He walks me backward to the bed and nudges me to sit.
“Get out of my head.” I wrestle him onto the bed next to me.
“You like me here.” He knocks on my head. “What do you need?” Gray searches my eyes.
“I need my Sunshine,” I say, and although it’s the truth, I’m unsure how to get back in a positive headspace.
“I’m here. You up for a little play? I have an idea.”
I’m suddenly invigorated. Without a word, Gray undresses me and examines my torso and extremities to double-check I’m fine for whatever he has planned. I watch him undress and rifle through my duffel. I’m shocked when he comes to bed with the flogger.
“I snuck it in your bag,” he answers my unasked question. “You are in no condition to receive blows, but it’s the perfect way to get you out of your head and make me come my brains out. You in?”
I swallow my nerves and take his mouth. He tastes of peppermint and home. “So in.”
“If you haven’t noticed, it turns me on when you’re unrestrained, unleashed, and out of your head. How do you want me?” He leans back to search my eyes and then gives me an encouraging kiss on my forehead.
“Hands and knees. But I’m starting slow.” My words are more for me than him. Gray somehow takes away my fear before I know it’s there. The man in pure perfection. He presents his glorious ass to me, and I drag the flogger over his curves. He shudders and pushes his ass back. My hand follows the flogger.
