Page 6 of Claimed By the Goalie Alpha
Julian stood and gathered the leashes. He started down the path, heading toward the parking lot. In a few minutes, he'd be gone, and I could finish my walk and pretend this hadn't happened. But he turned.
Our eyes met across the distance. We were too far for conversation, but he raised his hand. It wasn’t quite a wave, but more of an acknowledgment.
I froze. I wanted to go to him. My wolf was practically howling, demanding I close the distance between us. But I thought about Patrick and the fear in his mate’s eyes. There were so many ways this could go wrong and I walked away.
What are you doing? My wolf pleaded with me to rethink my decision.
The rest of the walk was mechanical as my mind returned to the moment when Julian had made that tentative wave. Hisexpression had been hopeful before I'd crushed it by walking away.
By the time I got to the arena, I was wound so tight I thought I might be sick.
"You okay?" Derek asked when I came into the locker room. "You look like shit."
If only he knew. My wolf was sulking, making my skin itch with the need to shift. He kept telling me to go back to the park and find Julian and damn the consequences.
"Just focusing on the game."
The game was a disaster from the opening faceoff.
I was slow, not physically, but mentally. Every shot seemed to come half a second before I was ready. Plays I should have read easily, I didn’t see coming. I was in my own head, replaying that moment in the park on an endless loop.
The Eastport Eagles scored twice in the first period. I should have stopped both shots. The second one trickled through my pads, and the crowd groaned.
This is what happens,my wolf said,when you fight what's meant to be.
The second period wasn't any better. I let in another goal, this one on a slap shot from the point. I committed too early and watched it sail past me. I could have stopped it if my head had been in the game. If I hadn't been thinking about brown eyes and a smile that hadn't dimmed even when I'd walked away.
Coach called a timeout. When I skated to the bench, his expression was grim.
"What's going on, Conley?"
"Nothing. I'll fix it."
"You'd better. Because right now, you're costing us this game."
The worst part was, I couldn't tell him that my fated mate was a human dog walker who I'd just walked away from in a park, and now my wolf was sabotaging me from the inside.
In the third period, I let in two more goals. Both were clean shots that I had no excuse for missing.
Coach pulled me with eight minutes left in the game. Raul took my place, and I sat on the bench watching him make the saves I should have made.
Final score: 5-1.
In the locker room afterward, the silence was worse than any shouting would have been. My teammates stripped off their gear while a few offered halfhearted "tough night" comments. Mostly they avoided looking at me. I’d let them down. We'd been fighting for a playoff spot, and I'd handed the Eagles an easy win.
Coach called me into his office. "I've been coaching for twenty years." He leaned back in his chair. "I know when a player's injured, when he's in a slump, when he's dealing with something personal. So which is it?"
"Personal."
"Can you handle it? Because if not, I need to know now. Raul played well tonight. I can't keep putting you in if you're going to play like this."
The threat was clear. Fix whatever was wrong, or lose my starting position.
"I'll deal with it."
"You'd better. We've got another game Friday. I need you ready."
I drove home with my wolf silent for the first time all day. He wasn’t sulking anymore, just defeated, which was worse.
