The referees try to frantically control the herd on the ice, but my team is not having it. Because there’s an unwritten rule in ice hockey.
A sacred one.
You can hit anyone on the ice.
But youdo not touch the fucking goalie.
Having had enough of the chaos, the linesmen jump into the pile to separate bodies. Once Ezra has been forcefully separated from their center, he skates to me and taps my pads with his stick. “You good?”
I nod once behind the mask, noting his still tight expressions. For me. He’s angry forme. Seeing him having my back so fiercely gives way to the ever-present guilt of being with his sister behind his back.
I’m the worst fucking best friend.
Unable to look at him, my gaze darts across the ice to see their center being hauled toward the penalty box, jersey half ripped off his shoulder.
Judging by the way my entire team is glaring at him, the next shift is going to be uglier.
We play the next round and snag the win, the team celebrating in the locker room. Their facessplit into vicious and proud grins.
I still feel the prick of the guilt churning in my stomach when I look at Ezra and the trust shining in his eyes.
The bastard that I am, even that doesn’t make me want to give Andie up.
Nineteen
Andie
I’m lounging on my couch on a Tuesday night, with a glass of red wine and towers of class assignments to check.
The game between Boston and Toronto plays on the television screen, giving me a severe case of FOMO.
I’d have gone to the arena if I didn’t have school tomorrow, especially when I’ve got to stay on top of the preparation for the upcoming year-end program. Being an elementary school teacher on contract means having to do double the work forless than half the respect you deserve, even from some of your colleagues.
It’s not the work that scares me, though; it’s the thought of it not being recognized or appreciated that troubles me. I hate that I have to constantly try to prove myself, as if the results of my students, my professionalism, ethics, and degree aren’t enough proof of what I’m worth.
To top it off, the bigoted mindset and society’s views on how an ideal body should be hinder my job. The worst thing is, it’s not just the other teachers in the school, it’s the parents, too.
I ignore them as much as possible, pretend that it doesn’t hurt. But I’m only human, and it does hurt.
Instead of teaching their kids to be respectful and mindful of everybody’s feelings, they start gossiping and chirping among themselves in front of those little impressionable ears. Their defiance to grow and become a little better only makes me talk about this with my students.
I try my level best to instill everything good I can into them, and even though sometimes it’s easy, mostly it’s a challenge. But it’s not like I ever shy away from one. These young kids are tomorrow’s future, and I’ll do my best to shapethem into someone good.
The horn for the final period blows, and my eyes drift over to the screen. Toronto has been taking liberties with every period they step into.
This one is no different as the puck drops. My pen suspends in the air, glass of wine forgotten and paper still waiting to be turned, as the ongoing game captures all of my attention.
I’m practically on the edge of my seat, seeing the puck being passed around on the ice. Levi is smashed into the boards, then Noah drops into a butterfly and blocks a shot. That’s when it happens—at the rebound.
Toronto’s center flies right at Noah, colliding with him and pushing straight to the ice as he rams his stick in his ribs.
He shouldn’t have done that.
The pen and papers clatter to the ground as I hop off the couch with my hands covering the loud gasp that escapes me. I don’t care for the red wine that spills on the table or the crack that forms on the glass.
All I care about is Noah as the center continues his assault. My heart beat thuds in my ears, hoping that he’s alright, my wide eyes stuck to the television screen as if they could reachbeyond it.
Seb and Ezra flank the guy and pull him away from Noah. My brother punishes him for putting his filthy hands on his goalie and best friend. But only breathe a little easier when Noah finally moves and gets up.