I twist the strap of my bag. It’s been weeks, but Rex still makes me nervous. A good, fluttery stomach, racing heart, on my toes kind of nervous—but nervous, nonetheless. He’s just too sweet. I’m still not used to it. “Guys our age don’t do shit like this.”
Rex chuckles and pulls a key from his pocket when we reach the building. He sticks it into the lock on a side door marked team members only, twists and then pulls. His free hand goes to the small of my back, pinky dipping beneath the band of my pants, guiding me down a dimly lit hallway that could be made of ice.
“Guys our age are douchebags. I’m one of a kind.”
That you are, Rex. That you are.
It’s a freaking hockey arena. A cold-ass hockey arena, might I add. Rex practically skips as he guides me past the lockers to a viewing room reserved exclusively for post-game mingling. The room’s a good twenty degrees warmer with four large flat screen TVs hanging on the wall, an L-shaped sectional and a cabinet next to the fridge. He unlocks the cabinet and grabs a green blanket from inside. “Here. This should help.”
Thanks.” I lean back against Rex’s chest. He kisses the side of my head then steadies me with his hands as he takes a step back.
A moment later, we’re walking through a maze of hallways and then entering the stadium. I’ve never been to a game before and am shocked upon seeing the size of the arena. From the outside, it didn’t look nearly this big. Distant voices of people yelling drills bounce off seemingly endless rows of empty chairs surrounding the ice.
Rex slips his hand in mine again, the familiar tingle warming my body from the inside out. “Isn’t this amazing?” he asks sitting us center ice behind the penalty box.
I nod. I’m not sure what’s so amazing about a bunch of guys on skates passing a puck around, but Rex looks like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes practically glistening with joy. He whispers lingo I don’t understand, trying to explain what’s happening in real time, but I’ve zoned out. My eyes are open, I look like I’m listening, but I’m half asleep. I think it’s called micro-napping. After so many hours awake, my brain needs to shut down and this is one way it does.
The whistle blows. I blink a few times, awake again, and try to figure out what’s happening on the ice. A man, presumably the coach and the only person out there without a helmet, skates toward us. “Montgomery. Is that you out there?”
Rex holds up his hand. “Yes sir.”
“Good timing,” the coach yells. “Suit up. We’re about to scrimmage.”
I’ve never seen something so thrilling yet terrifying in my life. A scrimmage is basically a fight on ice. I don’t even know what to call Rex’s position. A hunter? Is that a thing in hockey? His job is to chase the puck while everyone else chases him and shoves him into the plexiglass wall surrounding the rink. And sometimes their sticks hit his, making a god-awful slamming sound.
I chew my nails, sitting on the edge of my seat. Rex is on the green team, competing against white. They’re neck in neck, white leading by one point and there’s three minutes left in the third quarter. Are there quarters in hockey? I don’t even know, but the giant timer above the ice is counting down to zero and Rex has the puck again.
Rex spins on the ice with the grace of a ballerina, dodging a defensive attack from the other team. He passes the puck just as someone from the white team rams him from the right. His helmet slams into the glass with a cracking sound. I suck in a breath, terrified he might be hurt, but he seems fine. He shoves the guy off and goes after the puck.
Green number thirteen has the puck and lines up to shoot. White seven heads straight for the him but Rex ducks down low and hits his opponent in the stomach with his shoulder, sending them both to the ice. A red light spins above the net just as the timer sounds.
“Yes!” I yell, jumping up and down at my seat. Never in a million years would I have pegged myself as a hockey girl. But watching Rex out there, killing it, has made me a fan.
Coach blows his whistle and everyone skates into a line. He gives a speech I can’t hear, pointing and nodding, then blows his whistle again. The team skates off towards the tunnel entrance but Rex skates to me. I step onto my seat and curl my fingers over the top of the penalty box glass. He steps into the box and stands directly under me, his face about a foot beneath mine. He takes his gloves and helmet off and sets them beside him on a bench players sit on when they get in trouble during the game. “So? What did you think?”
“That has to be the most amazing thing I’ve seen. Ever! Did you know you were going to play?”
“No, but I knew it was a good possibility,” he beams. “I have an open invitation to the practices.”
“Please tell me you’re joking. Because if you’re not, I need to be at every one.” There’s something morbidly hot about watching Rex beat the living shit out of people.
He shakes his head. “I signed a contract in February to start next season. Coach knows I’m still in school, so anytime I get to train this season is an added bonus.” Rex flashes a devilish grin. “Wanna see my stick?”
I roll my eyes and feign annoyance. But yes. Hell yes! I want to touch it too. Rex holds his hockey stick up for me to see. I bite back a grin and reach out to stroke it. “Looks big.”
Rex’s cheeks flush. He clears his throat and hitches his thumb behind him. “I’m gonna shower up and get changed. Meet me in the room we got your blanket from in thirty?”
“I doubt I’ll find it again but I did notice a gift shop.”
“Okay let’s meet there.
Rex
There’s nothing I love more than hockey. My stick is an extension of me, maneuvering the puck with precision. The cool wind kisses my face as I speed around the rink. And did I mention how much I love ra
mming into people who piss me off. Best of all, I’m about to get paid for it. Minor leagues pay crap, but the goal is to do a year or two then hit the major leagues.
But Piper sitting on the edge of her seat, talking with her hands, full of life has become my new favorite thing. I absolutely love seeing her like this. Alive. It’s like I was brought into her life to remind her what it's like to live. I’m saving her and she doesn’t even know it.