Page 92 of Hockey Player Seeking Fan

“No, Coach,” I say. “I’m sorry I’m late. It was a late night.”

“Fucking another bimbo?” Elliot says.

I just stare at him. “I’m not you. I was home. In bed.”

I look over at Coach.

“Coach, I’ve been on this team a long time. You know me. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to be late. Life is just... life-ing right now.”

His face twists for a second. “Is everything okay? Your mom? Your sisters?”

I nod. “They’re fine. There’s just... a lot going on right now.”

Which is true—but probably not in the way he thinks. He probably assumes something devastating is going on. But in fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s quite beautiful.

Not that I’m going to tell him that.

“Get on the ice. Guys—Tyler.” He looks at me. “Tomorrow’s game is important.” As if I don’t know.

“I know, Coach. It’s really important. I know. And I’m going to play the shit out of some hockey.”

I stare at him.

“You got my word.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I get on the ice, and I feel like a different man. I need to focus. I need to focus on the puck. I need to focus on the net. I need to?—

I can see Erica’s smile in my mind.

She’s so pretty. With her brown eyes and her long hair.

I just want to hold her.

I just want to pay attention?—

“Kane!” Coach shouts, just as Harrison comes crashing into me.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I skate away.

“They’re going to get you tomorrow,” Harrison says. He’s not happy that he was able to take me down so quickly. Normally, I evade him every single time. And if I’m not evading Harrison—who’s not even our best defenseman—then we’re in trouble.

“I got this.” I hold my hand up. “I got this, Coach. Don’t worry.”

Practice goes on for another thirty minutes, and I know I’m distracted. I just keep hearing Erica’s laugh. I keep hearing her telling me the things that make her happy. I keep hearing her talking about soulmates.

And then I think about how she said that I’d won the bet.

But I didn’t want to win the bet.

I wanted her to win the bet. I wanted her to be victorious—not just because I wanted her to win, but because if she won, it meant I was winning, as well.

“Let’s take a break,” Coach says. He doesn’t look at me.

As I skate off the ice and take a seat to drink some water, I know that he’s pissed. I know that he’s worried. And I know if I don’t get my act together, we’re not going to win the game tomorrow.

I close my eyes and rub my forehead.