Page 20 of Knocked Sideways

Message received. Texting Mike had been a mistake. It was time to get to work, despite the tension headache that was now spreading out from the base of Remy’s neck. He rolled his shoulders, picked up his tablet, stacked some of the tiny pillows against the ugly beige headboard, and tried to get comfortable on the bed.

Let go of what you can’t control, Lily was always telling him. He couldn’t control Mike, or Petey, or McBride’s cousin’s girlfriend. But he could prepare for tomorrow’s game, so that’s what he’d do.

After a slightly better night’s sleep, a decent morning skate, and a passable nap, Remy walked into the arena the next afternoon feeling ready for the game. As ready as he could be, at least. He hadn’t been playing elite hockey for the last ten years for nothing. He could play better than last time if he “just focused,” like Mike had said.

As if it were that easy.

Half the team was already warming up or stretching when he arrived. In Montreal, he’d usually been on the early side, but maybe there were different expectations here. Or maybe the guys enjoyed each other’s company more. The locker room was usually pretty intense before games in Montreal.

Here, it was filled with good-natured trash-talking and what sounded like a loud recapping by Petey of the previous night’s bar crawl. Remy was greeted with up-nods and a few “how’s it goin’s” as he made his way to his stall.

And fortunately for him and his plan to stay cool and composed, Jed, like most goalies he’d ever known, seemed to prefer to keep to himself before games. Jed gave Remy a nod as he started gearing up, and Remy managed a nod back without blushing or staring too long—at least, he thought he did—and then, finally, it was time to get out on the ice.

Once the puck dropped, Remy was able to focus. Even better than that, he was in sync with Bakesy for the first time, like they’d been playing together for weeks instead of days. And Remy was skating fast. He felt like he was flying all game. No points, and it wasn’t his best game, for sure, but he didn’t embarrass himself, and the Blizzards won without going into overtime.

The relief of not having totally fucked up lasted for a few minutes of joking around with Petey and McBride in the locker room, until Remy’s adrenaline started to drop. He cooled down on a bike and then stripped off his clothes and showered in a fog of exhaustion, ready to get a ride back to his hotel and crash for the night. He was almost dressed before he saw Jed, who was always one of the last guys out of the shower.

“You played well.” Jed’s voice was deep and gruff and gave Remy the shivers. The good shivers. Or bad shivers. Yeah, bad, because he should not be reacting in any kind of way to Jed’s voice.

“Thanks.” Remy fixed his eyes on the back of his stall because Jed was toweling off and taking his time pulling on a shirt, and Remy could practically feel the heat coming off him. He was internally debating whether looking or not looking Jed’s way was more weird when Petey saved him.

“Yo, we forgot the Blizzards Lizard!” Petey called out. “It’s my turn, and I’m giving it to Big D for that sick goal that put us over the top.”

Remy turned around in time to see Petey draping a garish plastic necklace with a white lizard dangling off the bottom over the head of Dorsey, the first-line right winger.

Dorsey shoved Petey away good-naturedly with a “Thanks, but if you don’t stop calling me Big D, I’m gonna finish you.”

“Whatever, you know you love it.” Petey’s grin was irrepressible. “Okay, who’s up for a drink?” There were a few answering shouts of “I’m in,” and a few of “Next time, I’m wiped,” and guys started moving out of the locker room.

“Bro.” Petey clapped Remy’s back. “You coming out tonight?”

“I think I’m just gonna head back to the hotel and crash.”

“Fine. I’ll let you go this time. Just don’t make it three in a row. According to Blizzards lore, you’ve gotta drink with the team by the end of your first week, or the lizard will never be yours. Right, Monty?” And with a wink and a fist bump, Petey was gone.

“Petey’s full of shit,” Jed said from next to him, so Remy finally had to turn around and look. Up, because Jed was close enough that their height difference was noticeable, and that made Remy shiver all over again.

Be chill, he reminded himself. What came out of his mouth was, “But what if he’s not? Is the curse of the plastic lizard gonna get me?”

Jed smiled at that, weirdly. A real smile that deepened the crinkles around his eyes and made Remy’s heart speed up in an instant. Made him wonder what it would feel like to have Jed’s lips against his skin and whether Jed’s short beard would be soft or scratchy.

It was hard to believe that yesterday morning, he could barely get a sentence out straight when Jed was around, and now Jed was smiling at him like that.

Suddenly, it was imperative that Remy leave, before he did something like fall to his knees and beg Jed for—yeah, best not to go there.

Because he was feeling that smile. Like, getting hard. In the locker room. With Jed two feet away from him, if that.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Jed didn’t seem to notice. “I mean, I think you could probably take the lizard in a fight. Moreau, too, if you needed to. Although you’d have to answer to Mac for that.”

It was all Remy could do to croak out, “Guess I better play it safe, then,” before he pulled on his jacket and walked out as quickly as he could.

Remy was feeling a little desperate and a little reckless by the time he got back to his hotel room. He knew he couldn’t afford to be so affected by Jed. It was stupid. Teenage stupid. Pointless stupid. As good as kissing a future with the Blizzards goodbye.

So he told himself he was reacting so strongly because he was stressed and lonely and didn’t have any way to blow off steam. And even though he knew it was a mistake, he found himself texting Mike another “Hey” once he was undressed and in bed.

It was the middle of the night in Vermont, but sometimes Mike was up late. Video sex wasn’t a thing they’d done much, but maybe Mike hadn’t found anyone to take Remy’s place yet and would be willing to help him clear his mind. Or at least tell him he’d played well that night.