Page 19 of Icebound

He grins, showing the gap left by a puck that hit his jaw in our opening preseason game. I grimace in return. Been there. It’s rough, but he's on the list to see the team dentist for some veneers, and Dr. Alder works magic.

I make it a point to give each one of my teammates a solid pat before pulling out my crossword from the locker, needing to decompress after the adrenaline rush.

It’s a decent distraction from a word that starts with N and ends with A.

“Fuck, I hate that we have to go commando for every game,” Cruz says, itching his crotch. “My balls are chafing against my jockstrap. You sure I can’t wear one of those man girdles?”

Patty hides his laugh with a cough. “Hey, we’re icebound… Bound by the rituals of the hockey gods, my man. You know it’s bad luck if we don’t go commando for every game. We win as a team, and we go commando as a team.”

Patty and I exchange a glance, trying like hell to keep a straight face. We’ve kept this commando lie going with Cruz since our opening pre-season game. We’ve all got our superstitions, but I pulled one over on Cruz because the veterans did the same to me all those years ago, and I’m passing the torch.

Cruz tugs at his pants. “I fucking hate this tradition.”

My phone buzzes, and I lurch forward like it’s a puck flying at me, hoping to see Nina’s name, but a muscle ticks in my jaw when I read the screen.

Morgan

Great win tonight. I’m proud of you. I’m coming to Nashville in March, and I’d love to see you.

My jaw clenches as I shut off my phone, irritation rippling through my body like it does every time I see Morgan’s name on my screen.

Cruz pokes his head over my shoulder, but I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch my crossword.”

He whips his hair, sending droplets of sweat flying onto my paper. “What the fuck crawled up your asshole? A wasp? Did you not see that saucer pass I intercepted? We slaughtered Denver.”

Patty ties back his blond hair. It must be irritating as shit keeping it long. “He’s mad that his doctor driver ghosted him.”

I glare at the crossword like the words have a hidden message that will decode Nina’s thoughts. I wasn't angry at first because I don’t want to force someone to go out with me, but the more I thought about it, the more it annoyed me. Am I not good enough for a doctor?

Women tell me I’m an attractive guy, and no one's ever ghosted me before. I’m used to women jumping into my bed—headfirst.

I take off my jersey. “Technically, she didn’t ghost me. She was pretty blunt about ending things.”

Cruz slaps my shoulder. “Look at you, actually knowing the definition of ghosting. Did your crossword teach you that, old man?”

I grit my teeth. His old man comments are getting on my last nerve. Yeah, my back might hurt in the mornings, and sure, I get knee pain if I don’t take an ice bath once a week, and alright, my ideal Friday night includes getting nine hours of sleep, but your thirties are not old. Sixties aren’t even old. Age is a mindset. Cruz just thinks he’s invincible. But it’s hard not to feel old when I’m surrounded by guys in their early twenties, and have to compare myself to all their stats.

“Old man? I’m thirty-three,” I cut out, fully aware that my piss mood has everything to do with a certain doctor.

“You’re right. I should show some respect for my elders. I mean, you were born in the nineteen hundreds.”

I level him with a glare. “Is that really what we’re calling the nineties now?”

“Hey, give it up to your elders,” Patty says. “I was born in the nineteen hundreds too.”

Cruz rubs a towel over his face. “Yeah. It’s prehistoric. I bet you guys still look at magazines when you jerk off.”

I smack the kid with my crossword. “At least I don’t get hard while watching goat videos.”

“For the last fucking time,” Cruz yells, going from zero to a hundred in a second. “I was thinking about something else. I already had a semi when Patty started playing that video.”

“What were you thinking about?” Patty interjects, snickering. “Horses?”

We bust out laughing.

Whenever tensions rise, Patty’s the first to get everyone to simmer down. He’s a man of few words at first, but he’ll talk for hours once you get to know him.

Our right winger possesses a heart of iron, all while exuding a golden boy charm with his farm-boy drawl and that baby girl on his hip. I swear the guy’s gilded in integrity. Wyatt Patterson’s a true beauty with that rare ability to command respect on and off the ice.