Page 56 of Puck Fest
He strips the puck from me and feeds it to their center. The buzzer sounds before my brain processes what just happened.
Three to nothing.
My fault. Completely, totally, obviously my fault.
Coach pulls me. He doesn’t say a word, just points to the bench and turns his back.
I sit there the rest of the period, shoulder slumped, head in my hands, watching my team try to dig out of the hole I created.
They can’t.
In the locker room afterward, everyone is quiet. Frustrated as hell, I’m sure. I know I am. I fucking handed Edmonton that win.
I can’t get out of the locker room fast enough. Nobody will outright blame me, that’s not how things work with us. But they’re all thinking it, and the silence chokes me. I shower fast, throw on jeans and a hoodie, and rush out, desperate to put this night behind me.
Because what I did just proved what the press has been saying…that I’m exactly the reckless asshole everyone thought I was.
The parking garage is nearly empty when I get there, and I’m halfway to my truck when I see him.
Alex. Leaning against a pillar, typing on his phone.
He looks up. Smiles. Smug fucking bastard.
“Tough game.”
I keep walking, my lips pulled tight together.
“Seemed like you had trouble focusing. Not like you,” he says, following me.
“Not in the mood.”
“Fair enough. It’s been a long night.” He speeds up to catch me. “I saw you took a penalty for roughing. That’s usually Noah’s job, right? Keeping you from taking stupid penalties?”
I stop. “What the fuck are you getting at?”
Alex shrugs. “Nothing. Just observing.” He tilts his head. “You’ve been playing clean for weeks. Tonight you looked distracted. Makes me wonder what might have changed.”
“Nothing changed.”
“Are you sure about that? Because from where I was sitting, you looked like someone with a lot on his mind. Personal stuff, maybe?”
I wanna deck this asshole so bad. The only thing that stops me is more bad press.
“You don’t know shit about me.”
“I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with Noah. I know he’s managing your probation very personally. And I know tonight you played like someone who’s got more than hockey on his mind.”
“Go fuck yourself, Naylor.”
“There it is.” Alex grins. “That temper. The one Noah’s been working so hard to control. Interesting how it comes out when I mention him.”
I’m about to tell him exactly where to shove his observations when I see a shadow move near the elevator.
My chest tightens. It’s Noah walking to his car.
He sees us and stops short.
A smile lifts Alex’s lips, but there’s nothing genuine about it. “Speak of the devil. We were just talking about you, Noah.”
