Chapter 6 - It's His Fault

Logan

The roar of the crowd crashes over the rink as I tighten my grip on my stick.

My first official game for Northwood. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and my excitement is like electricity buzzing under my skin.

All I need to do is prove myself one time. The last game ended in a draw, and I was on the bench. I guess Coach wants to test me out.

He decided to put me on the starting lineup this time, and I'll be fucked if I let him down. If I let myself down.

Coach blows the whistle.

"Let's go, my boys!" He slaps a hand against each of our padded shoulders as we file out onto the rink.

The puck slams against the ice, and we're moving.

The sound of blades carving through the ice fills my ears as I sprint up the middle lane, calling for the puck.

"Center!" My voice carries to Cam.

Cam steals the puck cleanly from the opposing winger and looks up.

For a split second, our eyes meet.

"Boards!" a voice yells, and I jerk my head up.

It's Nate.

Cam fires it to Nate instead.

What the actual fuck?

I skate into position, ready for the return pass, open to the goal.

The others skate around, building our defense and attack. The other team's players head straight for Nate.

My heart is thundering as I zip across the ice, open to take the puck.

Nate only glances at me before looking away. He cuts inside, trying to muscle through two defensemen.

They snatch the puck away.

"Damn it," Cam mutters loudly enough for me to hear as we race back on defense.

Their winger snaps a shot at our goalie.

My breath hitches in my throat, my heart thundering in my ears, and everything slows as all our eyes are fixed on the goal.

Our goalie snaps his knees together, blocking the puck.

Thank fucking hell.

The whistle blows, and we scatter across the ice.

I glance at Nate, but he doesn't even look at me.

What was that stupid play? I was open to take a clean shot at their goalie, and he ignored me.

A few minutes later, we're back on the ice for the second faceoff.

This time, Elias wins it clean.

The puck slides perfectly into my lane.

I take one stride across the ice and—

"Nate!"

Elias redirects the pass before it reaches me, sending it to Nate instead.

Nate skates in circles behind the net, sliding to my far right.

I stay open.

The other team's defense is closing in fast. We have a chance to make the shot.

It's now or never.

One pass and I've got an empty fucking shooting lane. They're expecting him to take the shot, and he'd be stupid to actually take it when I'm here.

"Nate!" I shout, skating into position to receive the puck.

He looks directly at me.

Our eyes lock.

Then he fires a low-angle shot straight at the opposing goalie.

They save it.

Fuck.

I grit my teeth, feeling my temper rise, my heart burning, and the ache in my body grating on my nerves.

Maybe he didn't see me.

I shake my head and skate over to the rest of the team.

No.

He definitely sees me.

Cam steals the puck and dishes it straight across to Nate.

I'm weaving through center ice while their defense collapses on him.

Then I'm alone.

The other team is closing in, but—

"Here!"

I tap my stick against the ice.

Nate's head turns, and his eyes lock onto mine.

Pass it, you dumb fuck.

Instead, he drops his shoulder and tries to split three defenders.

The puck disappears beneath a pile of sticks before they steal it away.

The crowd groans very audibly.

"What are you doing?" Cam shouts while skating toward Nate and bumping harshly into him.

Surprisingly, there haven't been any unnecessary shoves in this game. The other team is barely playing above average, and we can actually win this shit if Nate makes the right decisions.

Which is me. I'm the right decision. At this point, I'm basically dancing around the ice without touching the puck.

~

By the second period, my frustration is burning through my chest, and it feels like I'm going to rip my hair to shreds. The ache in my thighs is palpable from skating around the rink like I'm a fucking figure skater and not a hockey player.

No matter how hard I skate, no matter how open I get, the puck never comes to me.

Each play always ends the same way.

If Cam gets the puck, he passes to Nate.

If Elias steals the puck, it goes straight to Nate.

One of the defensemen digs it out along the boards?

Somehow it still ends up on Nate's stick.

And when Nate has it, it's like I vanish into thin air, like I don't even exist.

I cut through open lanes, waving my stick where only he can see it.

It's almost like I've become invisible.

The scoreboard hanging above the rink glows a bright 1–1. The game has been deadlocked since the first period, and every minute that slips by tightens the knot in my stomach.

"Move the puck!" Coach bellows from the bench.

"We are!" Cam yells back before skating away after the play.

Well, that's a fucking lie because one person isn't.

One person is being a jerk on the ice.

The puck suddenly ricochets off the glass and slides straight toward me.

Finally.

I trap it cleanly against my stick before pushing off, my skates carving into the ice as I burst through the neutral zone. An Ashford defenseman comes charging toward me, lowering his shoulder to force me wide, but I fake left at the last second before dragging the puck across my body and slipping past him.

The crowd erupts.

Only one defenseman and the goalie are left.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Nate keeping pace with me on my right.

Perfect.

The goalie shifts toward me, expecting me to shoot, leaving half the net completely open for Nate.

It's the easiest play in hockey.

I don't even hesitate.

I slide the puck perfectly across the ice, already smiling because there's no way he misses this.

The puck reaches him.

He's so close, and he reaches out with his stick...

But not enough.

He can obviously get to the puck, but he's making it look like I didn't make a good pass.

He feigns missing it.

What the fuck?

The puck rolls harmlessly between his skates and drifts into the corner, where an Ashford player collects it before clearing the zone.

The whistle blows a few seconds later.

I slow to a stop and stare at him, disbelief washing over me.

No one saw that. Only me. Everyone else is going to think I didn't make the pass. Fuck.

He did that on purpose.

Slowly, I drag my eyes toward Coach. He's shaking his head.

My stomach drops, and my throat runs dry.

Disbelief washes over me.

I can't fucking believe it.

He thinks that was my fault.

I can't fucking hear anything else. Every sound is muffled as my gaze stays fixed on Nate while Coach subs both of us out.

My hand trembles, and my chest burns with rage.

Following Nate into the corridor as the game concludes back on the rink with just a few minutes left.

Coach had long since stopped following us, going back to inspect the final few seconds of the game.

"Nathaniel!" My voice booms through the corridor.

"What is your fucking problem?" I yell while the game concludes back at the rink.

"I have no problem with you, Logan." He deadpans without turning to me.

"Then why are you making me look bad? Play the fucking game!"

I rip my helmet off my head, whipping it to the floor, its straps still hooked around my fingers.

For the first time, he turns to look at me.

"I don't know. Maybe you're not as good a player as you think."

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

I step closer, invading all his personal space. I couldn't give two flying fucks.

Our teammates have started crowding the corridor, and chatter fills the small space as they take notice of us.

Nate just keeps a straight face, and I feel like I'm going to implode.

"You're a fucking twat, you know that? A right prick. And a jerk. And a coward."

I spit the insults as venomously as they come to me.

I fucking hate him.

"You can call me all the names in the world, Logan Hayes. I don't give a fuck."

He raises his hands in the air, his face devoid of emotion.

But through his eyes, I can see everything.

Rage.

Fear.

I laugh and scoff.

"You know, if we never make it to the Frozen Four, if we never win, it'll be your fault. How's that for the hockey career you want so badly?"

That does it.

His neutral expression morphs into a scowl, and he lunges at me, grabbing my collar.

"Don't you fucking dare me, Hayes."

"Am I wrong?" I laugh in his face.

His lips are just inches from mine. His harsh breath mingles with mine.

"You're a bloody coward. Good for nothing."

I pour more venomous words from my mouth.

"Shut up!" he yells in my face, his voice, hands, and entire body trembling.

His jaw ticks, and his fingers grip my collar like a vice.

"Oh right... I remember one thing you're good for."

I lean closer.

"Taking blowjobs and cumming really fast," I whisper in his ear, low enough that only he can hear.

His face changes again, and his eyes are almost glassy with anger.

He boils over.

Shoving me backward, he swings his fist.

It crashes straight into my face.

My head snaps to the side.

Pain explodes across the lower half of my face.

A sharp ache lances through my nose and lips.

My entire face is on fucking fire. He fucking punched me.