Page 63 of Shootout
“I’ll see what I can do.” I should’ve been offended that they’d asked for Banks, but I wasn’t. Banks was good. Very very good. Even though he’d been in a slump since he’d been on the Sockeyes, I had every confidence that slump wouldn’t last forever.
“Let’s call it a day. You’ve put in a workout.” So had I. I was ready to join the WAGs at Ziggy and Darcy’s house to watch the game. The girls gratefully agreed, jabbering about Banks coming to practice sometime in the future. I wished they’d keep it quiet until I had a chance to ask him, but I also knew he wouldn’t say no. He liked the spotlight and didn’t mind helping out kids.
“What’s this about Slater giving our team some pointers?” Jonas stepped out from behind the doorway as I walked past. His unexpected presence startled me, and I jumped. He snickered, and I turned to glare at him.
“I have to ask him first.”
“Did you think about running that past me before making promises?” Jonas perched his hands on his hips and leaned into me, using his height to intimidate. I glared up at him, refusing to back down to this asshole.
“Actually, I didn’t.”
He narrowed his gaze and sneered with utter disdain. “You think you’re so hot because you’re dating Banks Slater. You haven’t earned anything on your merit. Everything you’ve been given by this organization has to do with your connections rather than your expertise, and it fucking sucks. I wish a couple big-time NHL players had my back.”
“Jonas, you’re wrong. Neither of them had anything to do with me landing this job.” I spoke in measured, clipped tones, but my irritation came through loud and clear.
“Riiigggghhht.” He dragged out the word in a way that made it derogatory. “You don’t believe that crap any more than I do. If you’d been a guy, you’d have never been hired for this job with your lack of experience and credentials.”
I wanted to chew his ass and give him a piece of my mind, but he’d further label me as an emotional female who rose in the ranks due to her gender. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
ChapterTwenty-Four
TALK WITH BRO
~~Banks~~
Tonight had been the night I’d been dreading ever since I’d been traded to the Sockeyes. I competed against my brother in a real game for the first time in our lives.
The Sockeyes were flying high and sitting at the top of the Pacific division. Portland, on the other hand, was rock bottom and had only won a few games. I had to give them credit. They battled, but they were so out of sync that by the end of the second period, they fell apart. The third period hadn’t started yet, and the score was already five to zero. It seemed cruel to keep throwing pucks at the net, considering their defense was sucking big time, including my twin. He was better than this, but his game had disintegrated, and the losing had gotten into his head.
Briggs Pierce chewed Braden’s ass on more than one occasion and loud enough for the quiet arena to hear every word. You trash-talked your opponent, not your teammates, but Briggs trash-talked everyone. He was a parasite on that team, infecting everyone with his negativity.
I hated seeing my brother beaten down like this, and I wasn’t going to stand for it. I’d extract some not-so-subtle revenge. Besides, I’d be doing my own team a favor, considering the hard hit he’d put on Axel in the second. Win-win the way I saw it. Now to wait for the time to strike.
About halfway through the third, the Icehawks deteriorated and were instigating multiple skirmishes out of frustration. Everyone was getting chippy, and I wasn’t any exception. It was getting ugly out there.
Watching Briggs’s constant abuse of my brother filled me with such anger I relished making him look like a rookie. On a breakaway, I went one way, and he went another. I easily slapped the puck over the goalie’s shoulder. Briggs was pissed, and I poured salt on his wounds. Chirping like I’d never chirped before.
A few minutes later, I scored again on Briggs. Then I slammed him hard into the boards, stealing the puck and passing to Axel. I hit him with such fury, my entire body protested the impact. Briggs was slow getting up, and I skated away, secure in the knowledge I’d laid the groundwork.
I didn’t wait long. He put a hit on Cave when his back was turned. A sure penalty. And my cue to extract retribution for both my linemates and my brother. Play was stopped because of Briggs’s penalty. I skated over to him, smirking and chirping for all I was worth.
He threw off his gloves and barreled toward me. My gloves were off in a split second. I pulled my arm back and hit him with the full force of my frustration and anger. With satisfaction, I watched his jaw snap back. He roared and attempted to swing at me, but I got him in a headlock. Normally a guy didn’t get the best of Briggs in a fight, but I was fueled by the need to avenge his crappy treatment of my brother. As a bonus, my teammates appreciated my effort in defending one of our own. Little did they know I was also defending my brother.
Dash, the team captain of the Icehawks and an all-around good guy skated near me. He winked and was gone so quickly I almost believed I imagined what he’d done. He didn’t like Briggs’s antics any more than I did. The referees let us spar a few more seconds until I threw Briggs to the ground. Then they broke us up.
The game ended with a rout of seven to zero. I had two goals, one assist, and one fight. A good game for me and a Gordie Howe hat trick.
Tonight was a turning point. I sensed the shift in the guys’ attitude toward me as soon as I entered the locker room. They gathered around me, congratulating me with slaps on the back or punches to the shoulder. I’d broken out of my slump and defended my teammates. A guy couldn’t have a better game than that, especially when it came to earning respect. Their distrust and simmering animosity dissolved. I’d gotten beyond their mistrust, not just because of the fight tonight, though my actions had been the icing on the cake.
From that moment forward, I was a bona fide member of the team, with my past history all but forgotten. At least everyone but Wild felt that way. I wasn’t sure about him.
I listened to the coach’s after-game speech with a smile on my face. Tonight had been a good night. I’d been clicking with my linemates, anticipating their moves as they anticipated mine. I’d recovered from my slump in grand fashion.
I sat down on the bench in front of my stall and began stripping off my sweaty uniform and pads. A shadow momentarily blocked the light, and I glanced up.
Wild stared down at me, his face impassive. “I just found a guy I hate more than you.”
“Briggs,” I guessed.
