A deep voice from behind us cuts in. I glance over my shoulder, the same time Nicole does. A man—late twenties I’dsay—looks at both of us with a soft smile pulling across his lips. “Hi, sorry for interrupting.”
I glance at Nicole and her eyebrows are already cinching closer together. Not a good sign. Nicole can be a bit confrontational from time to time. She’s not really a fan of men who are strangers.
I quickly fix a smile on my face. “Do you need something?”
“I was just wondering if you guys were done with the tablet,” he says, smiling sheepishly. His gray eyes glance at the counter, then back at Nicole and me.
“Oh, yes.” I grab Nicole’s wrist, pulling her away from the counter. She’s still assessing him like she can’t decide if she wants to tell him off for speaking to us or if she’s curious. Ben passed her test during our first year of college, although she did put him through the wringer.
“Sorry about that,” I offer, the two of us stepping out of his way.
“No worries.” He smiles, dipping his chin before walking past us.
I turn my back to him, paying him no more attention as I look at Nicole. “We’ll talk more about it tomorrow or something.”
Nicole looks back at me. “Can I help in any way? There has to be something I or someone can do to help you.”
“I don’t know, girl,” I say with a shrug just as one of the baristas calls Nicole’s name. “I’m on a mission to find my muse, I think.”
“It’s out there, we just need to find it for you,” she offers with a smirk, pulling me in for a hug. “I gotta run, but text me later, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I take a step back from her. “Good luck at your meeting.”
She rolls her eyes. “They are the bane of my existence.” She takes a few steps past me, past the now empty ordering station, and grabs her drink. “Love you!”
“Bye! Love you!” I call back to her, watching her for a moment as she jogs out of the coffee shop. I turn back to the counter, tucking my menu back into its basket.
I tap on the screen, following the prompts to place my drink order as a heavy sigh escapes me. Instead of being adventurous and trying something new, I get the same thing I always do.
I’m not feeling like Candy Stone—not today.
CHAPTER TWO
MATTEO
“The first time I saw her, the world around me went quiet. I didn’t recognize her at first, although my soul knew. It knew she was the one it had been looking for.” - Julian Hart, Painted Inferno
“Matty, throw me that roll of tape.”
I tug once more on my laces, loosening them before grabbing the roll of white tape to my left and tossing it around Cam Shaw and over to Theo. I’ve known Theodore Simmons most of my life. Our families have always been close since our dads played for the Aston Archers together.
He’s one of the younger kids on the team, but I promised his dad and mine that I’d take him under my wing when he came into the league at nineteen.
“Boys, we need to get our shit together.”
The voice of our captain, Warren Cross, echoes through the locker room as he drops down onto the bench. He tosses his helmet onto the floor in anger, his damp hair shifting as he shakes his head.
He’s not wrong. The first half of the season wasn’t bad, but it’s like after the beginning of January, we’ve been on a downhillslope. We’ve been on a losing streak for three weeks, which is borderline embarrassing.
Practice this morning was absolutely grueling with no pucks and just skating. A few of the guys were running for the nearest trashcan after we got off the ice.
“We need to figure out what the problem is and fix it.”
Something has been off and the synergy just isn’t there. Whatever we had going at the beginning of the season vanished. Now, we’re drifting lower in the standings with every game. We had a shot at play-offs and if we don’t turn things around, there’s a chance we might not even be in the race for a wildcard spot.
Dropping my gaze to the floor to avoid Cross’s gaze as he looks around the locker room, I slide my feet from my skates and wipe the blades down with a towel. I know I’m partially to blame for the downfall of the Hillford Ice Hawks.
Since the new year, I haven’t scored a single fucking goal.