Page 49 of Like a Power Play
Darcy’s fingers are wrapped around the fabric of my jersey, pulling me just enough to halt my movement. I frown, spinning to face her.
“Can I… help you?” I ask hesitantly. Those freckled lips part, snap shut, then part again, chasing a verbal breakaway. I cock a brow, waiting, until finally—
“I just—” She clears her throat, straightening her posture. “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve got this,” she says, finally letting go of me. “You’re one of the best centers in the conference, thisdivision, even, and I can tell how much this team means to you, and—well I just wanted to say that…” She pauses, taking a deep breath.
What?
I study her, trying to sort through the mess of her sentence. I can’t tell if she’s being sincere or if this is just another passive-aggressive jab wrapped in a pretty, red-headed bow. I look at the door. Coach Cole stands there, arms folded, eyes glued to us. When I catch her gaze, she doesn’t even blink. She just stares at me like she’s waiting for something.
Right. Sent by her mother.
I turn back to Darcy, the corners of my mouth twitching as I prop a hand on my hip. “This is really hard for you, huh?”
She pauses. “Yeah.” After a beat, those emerald eyes widen. “Not because I don’t believe it—”
“I know, I know,” I cut her off, grabbing my helmet from the bench. I toss a smile over my shoulder as I move toward the door. “Thanks, Coach.”
My stomach flutters when she smiles back. “Go get ’em, Cap.”
Thirteen
Peyton
Whoever the DJ is at Glacier University really needs to rethink their career. Instead of getting pumped up to kick off the season, Hozier has me deeply considering disappearing into the wilderness and living off fish and acorns. Honestly, fish and acorns don’t sound half bad right now.
But rather than escaping through the trees, my skates slice over the ice as I warm up beside my team.
“Who’s that?” Indie asks. I follow her hazel stare across the rink, landing on Clay Matthews, the starting center for the Glacier Giants. They glide around, shoulders square, short silver hair catching the light. They’re on the smaller side, smaller than me, even, but they move so solidly you’d never really notice. Something curdles in my stomach, too hot, too cold, all at once when I catch their eye.
“That’s Clay Matthews,” I answer, stretching.
“You’ve never heard of them?” Bailey questions. Indie looks at me anxiously, then back to Bailey, shaking her head.
“They’re a sophomore. Last season, they got hat-tricks in three games,andmade All-Conference,” Bailey explains. “Right next to Pey, of course.”
I turn my attention back to Clay, studying them carefully. There’s a predatory gleam in their eyes—hot, fiery. It rattles me, sure, but it also stirs something under my skin.
The only way to prove you belong somewhere is to fight for the space you take up. And I plan to take up every inch of it.
Indie, though, she’s not so sure. I catch the audible gulp, the hitch in her chest. The sweat pooling at her temples catches the light, and I can almost feel the electric thrum of her nerves buzzing beneath her skin. For a second, I start to feed off that rush, slipping back into the panic. I wonder if she’d believe me if I told her we were in the same boat. If I told her I was the one driving it. But she doesn’t need to know that I share her insecurities. She needs to know she can count on me.
So I shake it off, take a calming breath, and push it down like I’ve done too many times to count.
“Hey, Rose,” I say casually, like we’re striking up a conversation at a coffee shop.
“Hey, Cap,” she sighs. She’s trying to be peppy, but she’s not quite making it.
“Look at me.” Her eyes flick up tentatively. When they meet mine, I let a small, easy smile conquer my face. “You got family here?”
Her gaze drops, chin dipping low. She shakes her head quickly.
“Good. Me neither. Means we don’t have to worry about anyone watching us, huh?” My voice stays light, trying to float above the doubt weighing her down.
She gestures toward the overstuffed stadium. “Seems like a lot of people are watching,” she says softly.
“What do you think they see?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit I know all too well. “A rookie.”
