The Not-Outcast(20)

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say, but I was feeling things. I was doing all sorts of feeling. My heart was starting to pound in my chest. My hands got clammy.

He wanted to still see me?

I didn’t know how I felt. A wave of relief, but nerves all jumbled together.

Cut: You are the one who rolled out of my bed.

A fourth sigh.

Me: Fine. When for dinner?

Cut: Thursday night. We’re away, then volunteer at your place Wednesday and Thursday. I can do that night and I’m on the road again this weekend.

My stomach started doing somersaults because whoa. I’d get to see him three times this week. A group of them were volunteering for the brunch shift, and they had a home game on Thursday.

Cut: After the game that night.

Then that would most likely be drinks, not dinner. I guess he ate late, probably needing the calories after his game.

I already knew what I was going to say, hence the sweaty palms and the hitch that turned into a wheeze in my breathing, and I could’ve pulled my own hair out from the nerves. So. Many. Feelings! It was almost too much and this was just over texting. Hence, why I rolled and ran that morning.

Me: Fine.

Cut: You’ll be at the game? Or that last game was a fluke?

Me: Yes. I’ll be there. Same seats.

Cut: Get a ride there. I’ll drive us after.

Just like that, I had a date.

My hands were now shaking and sweaty.





8





Cut





I had something extra in me at our away game.

Feeling the chill from the ice, how it felt fucking flying over it, easing in and around my opponents, all of that and more. There was just more happening tonight.

The smack talk wasn’t affecting me one bit. I was in a zone.

My stick was a part of me. The puck too.

Hendrix lined up, but I knew his read. It was in our play, and I skated up into place. His wrist moved. The puck came to me, and I was there, ready for it, and it flicked past two opponents, past the goalie, and swish. I went Top Shelf. The puck hit the net.

This shit never got old. Ever.

I completed the turn, rounding past the goalie, and Hendrix was on the other side to meet me.

One done.

More to go.

This would not be a one and done. Not for damn sure.

Then, the call came, and we switched up. Second line was out, and we were on the bench. I got some pats on my pads, my helmet. The coach gave me a nod, and Franklin banged against the box. He was still doing some time. We’d all been there before, it was just part of the play.

Sitting, taking a breather, I got a water and towel handed to me. That felt good, but I wanted back out there.

“Your family came tonight?”

It took a second for the question from Hendrix to penetrate.

We weren’t far from where I first grew up.

“Yeah. My brothers too. We’re doing dinner after. You want to come?”

He nodded. “You know it. I like Mama Alice.”

I smirked. Everyone liked Mama Alice, and all hockey fans loved Killer Mama Alice at our games.

“Ryder.”

I looked at Coach. He motioned to the ice. “Get out there.”

It wasn’t unusual to switch up the lines, but hell yeah, I was ready.

We waited, then made the switch. Alex skated in and I jumped off, moving into position.

I pushed forward, meeting up against the other team’s defender, and it was then that I got it. He was fast. I knew he was fast. Everyone knew he was fast, but going against him, Alex wasn’t as fast.

Thirty seconds later, Hendrix moved next to me.

We changed lines.

Changed again.

It was the end of the first period when we got the puck back, when I faked at shooting, gave it to Hendrix, and he got it in.

Lines changed up. I got a breather, and like last time, Coach sent me out for Alex once more.

This guy on the other team was good. He was winding up, but I moved in.

He slapped it to his teammate. Franklin was moving in. He intersected and we weaved around each other, then back into position.

We were holding it.

The other team was good. They’d held us off for most of the first period, but we had two goals in.

I should’ve been ready. A part of me was ready, but Franklin hit the puck to me.

I got it and bam!

I was shoved down, blindsided and looking up—their fucking enforcer.

His check was legal, barely, and he flew past me with a smirk on his face. “Two more to go, Ryder.”

I glared, feeling a spike in my blood. The magical spell of the game had been interrupted, but I knew that was why he was targeting me. He wanted in my head. Well, welcome to the shitshow and walk your ass right in. Enforcers didn’t work on me how they worked on most players. They brought an edge to the game, knowing you’re targeted, and I welcomed that edge. I used that edge to up my speed, up my adrenaline, up everything, and the more aggressive he got against me, the more aggressive I got against his teammates.

He just didn’t know that yet.





*



It was in the second period when he made his move.

He swung in.

I saw him coming, moved the puck to Franklin, and I turned to meet him.

Okay, asshole.