My stomach curdles. They’ve been playing so well. Sebastian has been playing so well. I can’t be the reason he, or any of the guys, are distracted. “I should text him.”
“No,” Isla says, resting her hand on my arm when I go to pull my phone out. “They’re about to take to the ice for warm-ups. He won’t get it. I told Madds you’re fine, and they handled the situation. It should be okay.”
“I hope so.” My eyes move to the ice, where the crew gets everything ready for the teams before they take to the ice.
I’ll never forgive myself if I’m the reason Bash plays poorly or if they lose this game. And I’ll fly to LA and kick Ryland’s ass myself.
fifty
SEBASTIAN
I’m holdingon to my control by a thread.
“She’s fine, man.” Maddox gives the back of my neck a squeeze as we wait for the announcer to call our names.
The crowd is thunderous in the arena, but it has nothing on the roar of my blood flooding through my veins.I want to kill him. “I know.”
“Then why do you still look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin?” Griffin’s expression is concerned.
A cynical part of me says he’s concerned because he’s worried I’ll fuck up and lose the game for us, even though I know that’s not true. “I should have been there to protect her.”
“You would have gotten in deep shit,” Logan says. “Indie never would have forgiven herself.”
He’s right. I know he is, but that doesn’t change the fact that she had to face him alone. Just like she’s faced the paparazzi and overstepping fans of her parents alone for the last ten years when we were apart.
I should have been there this whole time. If I’d never let that girl catch me off guard and kiss me that summer after senioryear, maybe I could have saved her from all of it. Maybe I could have saved both of us a decade of pain.
“She’s with the ladies. They’ve got her. And Lexi said she’s worried about you. She doesn’t want to be the reason you’re off your game tonight, man. I get that it’s hard, but you need to take some deep breaths and steady yourself. For her, and for yourself.”
He’s right, butfuck. That bastard had his hands on her.
The announcer’s voice booms over the PA system. The guys each give me one final look of support before they leap out onto the ice to thunderous applause and ear-splitting cheers. I watch each of them go, feeling the weight of everything press down on me with more and more force until I’m alone in the tunnel. When the announcer calls my name, my limbs weigh a thousand pounds, and not even the cheers of the fans can touch me.
Muscle memory takes over, and I lift my stick, giving the fans what they want, while my eyes go to the family box. With the lights low in the seats and pointed at us, I can’t make her out, can’t find her.
My skin crawls.
I’m only half here while we go through warm-ups and stretches. My mind is on Indie as I rough up the crease and stop the pucks my teammates send flying my way. I’m only half here when we file off the ice so the crew can prepare it. Only half here when we take to the ice again.
“You need to focus,” Madds says seriously, his hand holding the cage of my helmet and forcing me to meet his gaze. “We need you at your best tonight. And so does she.”
Everyone needs me to do something. To be my best. Another fifty pounds settles on my shoulders.
“I won’t let you down,” I vow.
Can’t let them all down.
My breaths come in short little bursts as Maddox and the Sharks’ captain meet at the red line for the faceoff. I hold it as the ref drops the puck. Breathe in when Maddox sends it toward Florida’s goal.
With every pass, my heart rate steadies. I never lose track of the puck, and it becomes meditative. Muscle memory and instinct take over, even though part of me is still with my girlfriend, still looking for her, still desperate to confirm she’s okay.
Logan takes a shot on Florida’s goal, but their tender slaps it away. Our offensive line battles with their defensive players as Logan, Madds, and Griffin try to maintain possession and attempt another goal, but the Sharks slam Logan into the plexiglass, then they’re skating down the ice toward me.
It doesn’t take long for our guys to gain on them while Ryder and Javi push back on Florida’s wingers. The puck bounces between sticks, the vulcanized rubber cracking against the graphite and carbon of stick blades. Back and forth, ground gained and lost, our guys battle it out with the Sharks.
Neither team is willing to concede ground or give up the first point, because this is it. Do or die. Win or lose. Glory or disgrace.
I square my shoulders against the extra weight that settles there.