Page 68 of Rookie Moves

We trudge back to the locker room at the end of the second period. Sweat drips down my face when I pull off my helmet and shove my gloves into my cubby.

Colby slumps on the padded bench in front of his stall opposite me, elbows on his knees and gaze fixed on the floor. His stare is empty, and it bothers me that no one can see the defeat weighing on his shoulders.

When I glance around, everyone is too busy wrapped up in their own intermission routines or getting injuries checked or joints retaped, so I clip my skate guards on and walk over to crouch down in front of him. I take his gloves off, putting them on the floor between my skates, then rest my hands on the sides of his knees.

“Colbs,” I say quietly.

Those hazel eyes flick up to mine from behind his bubble.

“It’s not over yet. We’ve still got time.”

He lets out a shuddering breath and gives a jerky nod, but it’s almost automatic as his eyes are still lifeless.

“Did they hurt you out there?”

He shakes his head, but the pinch in his expression tells me he’s lying.

Fuck. I need to get him somewhere private.

I stand, placing his gloves in his cubby above his head, then tip my chin toward the door leading out into the hallway. He clips on his own skate guards before unclasping his helmet and placing it on the padded bench. He follows me out the door, and we walk to where there’s a small alcove next to where Tim is busy sharpening skate blades.

“What’s up?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

Colby winces as he lifts his right arm and points to his ribs. “It’s nothing, but when one of them checked me into the boards, they got me in that weird spot between my pads.”

Instinct has me wanting to reach out and lift his jersey to get a better look, but I can’t do that here. We’re too exposed, and if he is hurt, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from losing my shit.

I let Colby pull his jersey up until the gap between his pads is visible. There’s a red mark forming, so no doubt he’s going to end up with a nasty bruise, and while I’m no athletic trainer, it doesn’t look to be anything worse.

“Ask Gio for an ice pack and some Advil,” I say, helping to adjust his jersey when he tugs it back down. “Does it hurt when you breathe?”

“No.”

“That’s good. That means they’re not broken. You’d know if they were.”

Colby sighs, long and heavy. “They’re being assholes out there.”

“Tell me about it, but you’re better than them, Colbs. Don’t let them get under your skin, and keep doing what you’re ace at.”

“Is everything alright over here?” Liam asks, appearing from behind me.

“Yeah, just making sure those douchebags haven’t done major damage,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

Liam’s gaze flicks to Colby, his brows pulling down. “You good, McKay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing an ice pack won’t fix.” Colby shrugs, stepping around us both to head back into the locker room to find Gio.

When we head back down the chute for third period, my jaw aches from clenching, frustration growing like a wildfire through my veins.

Colby takes to the ice. He takes a deep inhale before positioning himself for the face-off, like he’s dialing into that subconscious place that makes him unstoppable.

And clearly, it works, because he sinks one into the back of the net within fifteen seconds of the period, tying the game.

“Fucking yes!” I shout, jumping to my feet and flinging my arms in the air.

He gets crushed in the corner in celebratory hugs, and then they skate past the bench to exchange fist bumps. I’m grinning widely when I tap my glove against his.

As I take to the ice for my next shift, one of the assholes who targeted Colby skates by. I keep an eye on him as well as the puck we’re currently fighting for possession of, and when the chance arises, I position myself to give him my full body weight on the blue line, sending him onto his ass with a clean hit.