Page 34 of Scarred

Kane finds an opening and whips it to Stone, who is ready and waiting for it as he scoops it up and stick handles like a pro down to the other side.

Easing up a bit on my stance, I take this slight reprieve to relax my guard, never fully, just enough to loosen my muscles a bit.

My mind, though, never falters as I study every move of the other team, looking for any telltale signs that will help me understand their movements. The more I know about each one of them and what they like to favor, the better I can stop them.

Foxx takes a shot at the net, but it’s deflected off the goalie’s stick, sending it back to their player. He skates quickly back toward center ice, and I’m already in position, keeping track of the puck as they pass it to one another.

I get low protecting the left side of the net with my leg pad as the puck bounces off, but they quickly recover with a rebound hit. I see the curve of the stick and the stance of the player at the last minute and know it’s going high. My glove shoots out in the upper right-hand corner, twisting my body for the reach on the opposite side of my net that I was protecting, catching it with a thud against my palm.

Holding on to it, the whistle blows signaling the save.

“Fuck,” I hear the player who just took the shot mutter.

“Easy save,” I grin, not being able to stop myself from getting a little dig in.

“You got lucky,” he bites back, before skating away.

“Damn, that was a good catch,” Stone grins, coming to a halt in front of me.

“Could have done it in my sleep,” I smirk, causing Stone to laugh.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he chuckles. “Ten minutes left. Let’s fucking leave Chicago’s asses with a loss.” He gloves my helmet in respect before skating to the faceoff.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” I mutter, giving the sides of the net a stick tap before bending my knees and securing my net with my body ready to move at any given second.

There’s not an ounce of me that won’t do whatever it takes to protect the area I swore at an early age I would do.

Chicago got lucky with the first one that slid by—there won’t be another.

Stripping down naked, I slide under the cool sheets of the hotel bed. After our win tonight, we hopped on a flight, arriving in New Jersey for our last away game this stretch before we head back home tomorrow night.

Coach rarely plays me back-to-back, so I’ll be benching it tomorrow night, saving me for our home game this weekend. It’s not easy sitting back whenever every part of me wants to be out there with my team, but having me overextend myself and getting an injury isn’t worth the risk.

The physical exertion from doing butterflies alone in a single game is not for the weak. It takes a lot out of you, and taking it easy the next day is crucial for muscle repair. It’s imperative to the team that I’m healthy and sharp for the long haul this season, so I suck it up on the bench when I have to.

Unable to sleep yet, I grab my phone from the nightstand, pulling up Mae’s text from earlier. I FaceTimed Scarlett before the game, like I always do, and it was nonstop excitement about dance class.

Apparently, Luna let her lead the class in a fairy leap line—whatever that is.

It’s hard to understand a two-and-a-half-year-old’s vocabulary sometimes.

Mae texted me after with a link to the class and a password that Luna gave to her before she left, so I could watch Scarlett’s class. I guess she records each class and keeps it up for a week before the new class tapes over it, allowing parents to watch it live-stream or, in my case, later because of work.

Settling against the headboard, I find Scar’s class and click on it.

Smiling, I watch Mae arrive and Scarlett running over to her new friends. It’s obvious, as I watch the way her face lights up, that she’s enjoying this dance class a lot. There’s no way I could change studios even if the selfish part of me knows it would be a hell of a lot easier if I just stayed far away from the one thing I can’t seem to let go of.

I watch Luna now as she talks to Mae, her smile brighter than any star I’ve ever seen. As hard as I tried, I haven’t stopped thinking about our last session. How easy it would have been to lean in closer and dive into what I know will ultimately destroy me.

The girls gather around her, hanging on her every word as she instructs them around the dance floor. Chuckling, I watch Scarlett do her best at a leap as she leads the girls around the room, each one attempting a ballet jump as they go.

When the class is finally over, Scarlett throws her arms around Luna’s waist before grabbing Mae’s hand to leave. The video ends abruptly, probably on some kind of timer. I click out of it, and I’m about to exit the app when I notice the live feed is on.

It probably was left on by mistake.

My thumb hovers over it as I hesitate briefly before finally clicking it.

Luna appears on the screen, grabbing my attention as I sit further up in bed.