Page 49 of Strange Love

I can almost hear her bouncing on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to ask, but can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure,” she replies cautiously, sensing something more serious in my request. “What’s going on?”

“I need you or Sascha or someone to go over to Taz’s house and check on him,” I explain urgently. The weight of worry sits heavily on my chest.

“He’s not there?” she questions, her voice urgent and concerned.

“No, he’s not. Coach is pissed.”

“I’ll figure it out,” she says confidently. As we disconnect our call, my unease lingers. We don’t have time to worry about him now, though - it’s almost time for me to take the ice and lead our team to victory. We’re playing The Stingers again, and Eckhardt is always a formidable opponent.

Stepping out of the locker room, a surge of electric energy greets me once I approach the rink. The gleaming ice reflects the bright lights above, and I take my first lap around, the crisp air biting my skin. I glide past the benches and spot my mom in her usual spot behind ours. Her proud smile and waving hand instantly put me at ease. It only then dawns on me that Ivy’s parents will be here too, so they will meet today. A wry shake of my head reminds me how this situation began as nothing more than a charade but has quickly turned into a tangled web of real emotions.

The warm-up skate winds down as the anticipation for the first puck drop builds when I spot Ivy and her family entering the arena and taking their seats. A rush of excitement runs through me as I scan the area, ensuring that Coach isn’t watching, before skating up to the boards where Ivy sits. I press my gloved hand against the glass, hoping for a response from her. My heart races as she meets my touch with a warm smile and places her hand in the same spot. It’s cute and corny as shit, and I expect to catch hell about it from my teammates later, but her sweet smile makes it worth it.

With a quick flick of her thumb, she signals that he’s okay. Relief flashes in her eyes as she mouths the words, but I don’t have time to ask her what happened. Instead, I nod and skate toward my team, fueled by adrenaline from the close call.

As soon as I reach Coach, he beckons me off the ice. My heart races as I wonder what could be wrong. Did someone get hurt? Is there a problem with our game strategy?

“Delzy,” Coach says, his voice grave. “I need you to head into the locker room.”

My stomach twists with worry as I ask, “Is everything okay, Coach?”

“No, it’s not okay,” he replies sternly before turning away and barking orders at my teammates.

I step into the locker room, my eyes immediately land on two startling scenes. The first is my best friend, his usually confident and lively demeanor replaced with one of dejection as he sits on a training table, head bowed in defeat. The second is Sascha, her tense posture and eyebrows furrowed in concern mingled with exasperation as she stands beside him.

Taz lifts his head, his bloodshot eyes struggling to focus through the exhaustion. The right eye is swollen and discolored, a vivid black and blue that tells me it was in recent contact with someone’s fist. His split lip is caked with dried blood, and he instinctively cradles one arm against his body, wincing with each breath.

“What the fuck happened?” I yell as I march over to him, tossing my stick aside in anger. Sascha holds up a hand to halt me, her expression conveying a silent plea for calmness.

“We don’t have time to talk about it right now,” he says, his breath heavy with the scent of tequila and weed. “You need to go play and win this game. Your mom’s here. Your girl’s here. You can do this one without me.” When he speaks, I notice the glassy look in his eyes and the unsteady way his upper body sways. “I’m in no condition to skate right now, but I’m okay.” I can’t help but shake my head in disappointment. I don’t know what he’s gotten himself caught up with, but it’s not good.

Taz gingerly approaches the training area with a heavy sigh, leaning heavily on Sascha for support. The rest of the team begins to filter in, each player focused and determined as they prepare before taking the ice for the game. Coach stands in front of them, giving a rousing speech.

“All right, you heard him,” Coach says. “We have a game to play. He’s here. He’s not dead, although he might be when I’m done with him.” His words are met with a mix of nervous laughter and determined looks from the players. “You need to go out there and play the game you’re capable of playing. The trainers will take care of Taz and get him back in shape for us. You can talk to him after the game.”

“Yes, Coach,” I mutter reluctantly, shaking my head as I stand up straighter. I ask Sascha if she will stay with Taz during the game. Her incredulous look tells me she doesn’t have much choice. I can’t help but smile because even though she tries to act so hard, I know she cares deep down.

“Taz, I’ll catch you after the game,” I call out to him before grabbing my stick and walking out where our opponent awaits us. The cold air hits my face as adrenaline rushes through my body. I step from the rubber mat onto the ice, skate hard, and fast in a lap around the rink, fueled by the thumping music and raucous crowd, ready to give it my all for my team and Taz.

Chapter 28

“Back In Black”

Ivy - Age 18, 1988

When Corey’s frantic voice filled my ears through the phone, I called Sascha in a panic as soon as we hung up.

“What?” she grumbles groggily as she answers the phone, still half asleep.

“Sascha, do you happen to have Taz’s phone number?” I ask urgently.

“Why would I have his number?“ she retorts.

“Never mind, Corey gave it to me. Please call him for me,” I plead.

“What do you mean? Why can’t you call him yourself?”