Page 71 of Shootout
I was frustrated he sidestepped any attempt on my part to get him alone, yet relieved. I wanted him to explain himself, but I also didn’t want an explanation. I feared his answer. Nor did I know how to respond. Our relationship hadn’t felt fake for quite a while, but I always kept in mind that it was temporary. Was he wanting something more permanent or merely soothing his guilt by making us real but still temporary?
My safest path was to win, earn the respect of those who doubted me based on my gender, and save myself from eventual heartbreak down the road.
Sunday couldn’t come soon enough. I hadn’t asked for this, but I was determined to give Banks a run for his money and defend all female hockey players everywhere. Wild knew about the bet, but he didn’t say much when he gave me a ride to the SHAC. He did surprise me by parking his car and getting out.
“What are you doing?” I asked suspiciously as he followed me to the elevator. He’d been acting strange all day. Something was up.
“Hanging out,” he said innocently, and my brother didn’t do innocent well.
I stopped and faced him, narrowing my eyes. “You aren’t going to watch, are you?”
He grinned, shrugged, and punched the button on the elevator. “You think I’d miss the opportunity to witness my sister wiping the ice with that asshole?”
“I wish you would.” I sighed, knowing nothing I said would stop him from doing what he wanted to do. I followed him into the elevator and to the floor where the locker rooms were.
As the doors opened, he surprised me with a quick hug. Jason wasn’t demonstrative, and I was touched by his show of support. “Good luck.”
“I’ll need it,” I muttered as he disappeared down the hallway.
Geneva and Cin met me in the visitors’ locker room and helped me get ready. I didn’t ask them how they’d found out about the bet because I dreaded their answer. I’d hoped to keep this thing semi-quiet. Perhaps I’d been naive.
Minutes later, I burst onto the ice of rink number three to the roar of an unexpected crowd. I did a quick stop, throwing snow. Open-mouthed and frozen in shock, I stared at the bleachers packed with the entire Sockeyes team, including the WAGs, along with my girls, my team, the parents, and various other onlookers.
What the fuck?
My girls and the WAGs held up signs in support. The guys did the same though their signs were definitely more brutal than encouraging Banks. This had become a battle of the sexes, and I didn’t know how it’d gotten this out of hand. While I didn’t see members of the press—thank God—the Sockeyes media staff were present and ready to record this occasion.
What I’d assumed would be a friendly little wager between Banks and Boris, known only to a few, had turned into something completely different.
Banks skated up to me.
“Did you know about this?”
He shook his head, and by the look of astonishment on his face, he was as stunned as I was. “Not one damn bit. Who the fuck told all these people?”
“Word spreads fast. My entire youth team knew, so seeing parents here shouldn’t come as a surprise, but who told the Sockeyes?”
“Did you tell your brother?”
“Um, yeah.”
“It appears he has a big mouth.”
“Yes, it does.”
Banks chuckled. “I think he’s hoping I’ll suffer complete and total humiliation at your hands, or would that be stick?”
“And you will.” I smirked.
“Not a chance, sweetheart.”
I lowered my voice. “Don’t you dare throw this game to make me look good. Promise me you’ll bring your best.”
“I wouldn’t dream of giving you anything but my total effort. Do you honestly believe I’d insult you in that manner?”
I considered his words. When he put it that way, I felt shame at asking such a question. “I’m going to kick your ass. Prepare to be humbled.”
“I’m kicking your fine little ass, honey, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
