Page 204 of Rookie Attraction

Druin steps up and taps Sel on the shoulder.

“Remember what I told you on your first day here, Kirkland?”

“Yeah, you told me you didn’t care about my sex life, and Sorensen said just don’t fuck up on the ice.”

Sorensen looks around the room. “Does everyone agree?”

The guys nod their heads.

Sorensen smiles. “There you go.”

“The goalie has spoken, and so shall it be,” Berg quips and claps his hands together. “Now, it’s my turn to talk. Get your uniforms on! Move it guys! Time to rack up another win!”

Just like that, the locker room is a flurry of activity again, and its business as usual. Except, nothing is usual anymore, not for me and Sel.

“Did we really do that?” I ask him as we stare at each other.

“We really fucking did.”

The Apex is a gathering storm tonight, ready to unleash, with the thunder of twenty thousand fans on their feet. There’s no mistaking the intensity as I step onto the ice, and I relish it—the bite of the air, the waves of energy rolling off the crowd. It’s the last game before winter break, and my college teammate Jace is on the other bench. It’s strange to be on opposite sides, but it’s also awesome that the two of us ended up here, living our dream. We know each other’s tells, each other’s moves. No bad blood between us, just different jerseys.

I catch sight of Jace during warmup, number seventeen in orange and white, and the familiar easy grin as he taps gloves with his teammates.

When he looks over and I wave, he opens his arms.

“Can you believe this?” he shouts.

I laugh and shake my head.

“Ready?” Sel’s voice cuts through the noise, low and steady at my shoulder.

My boyfriend’s gaze is calm in the surrounding chaos.

“Let’s shut them down.”

The puck drops and Philly comes out flying, testing our defense early. Their center drives hard to the net, but Sel’s already there, perfect gap control, stick active, forcing the shot wide. I collect the rebound behind the net and send a crisp breakout pass, tape-to-tape.

Jace’s line comes next.

He has that explosive first step, the kind that used to make my job easier when we wore the same colors. Now it’s a weapon aimed at the Rush. He cuts to the middle, looking for the seam, but Sel reads it, closes the gap, and angles him wide. Jace tries to slip past, but I’m already on it, a textbook rotation that forces the dump-in.

“He’s freaking fast,” Sel admits.

“Always has been. Watch the cross-ice pass. That’s his setup.”

Sel nods.

The period ends scoreless, but we have the momentum with eleven shots on goal to Philly’s seven.

Sel

The second period starts with Philly throwing everything at us. The hits get heavier as desperation creeps into their team. Their coach leans over the boards barking instructions, and I swear I can taste their frustration.

The Philly Titans want this.

But we want it more.

A scramble erupts in front of our net as bodies crash and sticks hack at a loose puck. Finn takes an elbow to the ribs, but he doesn’t go down. Instead, he muscles his way through and clears the crease. I’m already on their winger, boxing him out, making sure Sorensen has clean sight lines.