Page 90 of Cheap Shot

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with the New York Rockets anyway?” Crawford asked.

“I grew up in New York. Played with a guy who got drafted by and, uh, plays for the team. My dad was abigRockets fan too.” He swallowed loud enough that Crawford could hear it, his throat clicking. “It was actually the last thing we did together before his accident. All of the jerseys I wear are his.”

Luke winced. “Shit, is he …”

“Is he what?”

“Dead?”

“Oh, no.” Sebastian laughed. “No, he’s very much alive. It was a fucking awful accident though. He wound up a paraplegic.”

“That’s paralyzed?” Luke asked because he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, from the waist down. He has a chair that allows him to do so much. Still has good mobility in his arms and hands too, so that’s great.”

“Your folks still live in New York then?”

“No, he ended up going to a rehab center out in New Mexico and he and Mom decided to stay there. The weather’s a lot easier on him. He shattered a shitload of bones in his lower body, and the cold winters were really fucking hard on him.”

“Makes sense.” It would be smarter if Luke moved back to the desert when he was probably facing a lifetime of arthritis, but he’d apparently made Boston his home. “Where in New Mexico?”

“Albuquerque. Ever been?”

“Yeah, plenty. Grew up in Nevada and we took some trips down there and shit. Nice area.”

“Huh.” Sebastian shot him a look, one of his curls flopping onto his forehead.

Luke got a weird itch to lean in and push it out of Sebastian’s eyes, so he cleared his throat and mentioned how much he liked hiking in the Jemez mountains and the Sandias.

They spent a few minutes talking about the hiking in New Mexico before they focused on the TV again.

A woman was singing the national anthems now.

“So, no chance of you cheering for Team USA tonight, huh?” Crawford asked.

Sebastian snorted. “No fucking way. I wanna see what Rasmussen can do.”

“He’s not enough all on his own,” Luke pointed out.

“I know. But they do have a decent roster and he’sdamngood. How many goalies can stop him when he comes tearing down the ice on a breakaway?”

“Not many,” Luke admitted. Though Webby did his best. Shame he was playing for Team Canada. “But the US has O’Shea, Underhill, Carlson, and Clayton on D.”

Sebastian winced. “Thatisa formidable group.”

“USA’s offense isn’t shabby either.”

“None of them are the sniper that Rasmussen is.”

“Again, one guy can’t fucking carry a team.”

They spent a few minutes arguing about the rest of the Nordic team roster before the puck dropped.

As it did, Sebastian said, “Hey. We should make a wager.”

Luke glanced over. “What are we betting on?”

“Who wins tonight.”