Page 71 of Tough Call

I fucking loved practicing with her, because if I could get a puck away from her or past her, then I’d be golden once I was playing for real.

As they put their gear bags down on the benches, Mülly peered at Connor with a quizzical expression.

I cleared my throat. “Mülly, this is Connor. He officiates for the NAL, but we won’t hold that against him.”

“Hey!” Connor rolled his eyes as he rose to shake my teammate’s hand. “Don’t make them hate before I even open my mouth.”

“Nah, we won’t hate you.” Mülly extended his hand. “You’re not officiating us, so you’re off the hook.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

Mülly chuckled, and he introduced himself and Emilia. She was also Swiss, but she spoke Italian. Mülly spoke German, though he also knew a fair amount of Italian. Lucky for Connor and me, they were also fluent English speakers.

Fluent enough that there was no shortage of chirping once we all hit the ice.

“My grandmother skates faster than you,” Emilia said as she whipped past me. “Come on—I thought you were a pro!”

“I just didn’t want to crash into you,” I retorted. “I don’t feel like fighting with your husband.”

“You don’t like fighting anyone,” Mülly said, and he followed that with chicken noises.

“Oh, fuck you.” I whacked his padded shin with my stick. “I have more fights in a season than you have in your whole career.”

“But how many of them do you win?” Emilia asked.

Connor barked a laugh, and I shot him a glare.

“Hey!” I said. “I win them sometimes!”

“Sometimes,” Emilia and Mülly both sing-songed.

I groaned. “I hate you both.”

“Liar.” Emilia danced around me again with the puck. “You hate the truth.”

“Rude,” I muttered, then focused on chasing after her and trying to relieve her of the puck.

I failed, but Connor managed to get it away from her. I tapped my stick on the ice, and he passed to me. It wasn’t a perfect pass, but it got to me, and I slapped it on net. Had there been a goaltender, it probably would’ve been deflected.

A completely empty net? Goal.

Connor skated up to me for a fist bump and a side hug. “Nice one!”

“Thanks for the assist!”

We locked eyes, and we both grinned. Something about the feisty glint in his eyes told me we’d be getting in some more cardio later today. Couldn’t wait.

As we separated and Emilia dug the puck out of the net, Mülly caught my eye. He had a curious look, though I wasn’t sure why. Unless he was trying to suss out exactly what kind of “friends” Connor and I were?

Luckily, Emilia kept us focused on hockey, which pulled Mülly’s attention off Connor and me and my attention off Mülly. Perfect.

We battled it out two-on-two, each trying to get to the other’s net. Emilia got possession, and she sent it to Mülly. I tried to snatch the puck away, but succeeded only in knocking his skate out from under him. Mülly tumbled to the ice with a string of German curses.

Then, in English, he shouted, “That should be a penalty!” He turned to Connor. “That’s a penalty, isn’t it?”

Connor put up his hands. “I didn’t see anything.”

Mülly huffed as he got up and dusted snow off his pants. “And if I give you a twenty euro note in the locker room?”