Finding the Forward, Part One (HockeyVerse)

Chapter Six

Grif

O ne of the rookies passed the puck to me. I focused on Jean-Paul, the goalie currently in the net. As I skated closer to the net, I deked to his glove side. JP leaned into it, taking the bait. I shot to his stick side. He dove toward the puck, but it flew into the net.

“Nice shot,” JP told me, in his thick French-Canadian accent. He was a beta and five-foot-ten, with a broad and stocky build, brown hair, and a beard.

“Thanks.” I left so someone else could take a turn.

It was a good shot. Unfortunately, that only mattered if the coaches agreed. I looked toward Coach Atkins but saw no reaction. He was older, with gray in his dark hair and a few wrinkles around his brown eyes, but he wasn’t that old. Coach was a bit of a legend, having won Olympic gold and several PHL championships.

“Good hustle,” Winston told me as we went into the locker room after we finished on the ice.

Dean bounced over to me. “Come on. I need my fix.”

My overzealous husband dragged me to the lobby. Dean insisted that the matcha lattes from the cart were the best. Personally, I thought they tasted like hot grass. But he was an omega goalie–so he got pretty much whatever he wanted.

“There it is again. I smelled it this morning, too.” Dean’s freckled nose scrunched as he got his latte. His strawberry blond hair hung in his green eyes.

“Oh, right. The smell? Well, maybe it’s one of the early morning figure skaters? What does it mean?” I smelled nothing. It made me curious, though.

“I don’t know. It just stands out somehow.” He took a sip and shrugged.

Huh.

Returning upstairs, we went to the small weight room that was primarily for Dean’s comfort. Even though I’d spent years developing a tolerance to sweaty alpha, I found it more relaxing to work out here.

He paused in the doorway, nose twitching. “Some alpha was in here. Again.”

My spine prickled. “Is it good or bad? I smell nothing.”

“Don’t know.” He frowned a little and shook his head. “While they’re courteous and wipe everything down, they shouldn’t be in here–and it keeps happening. Come on, we need to talk to the Maimers, anyway.”

“You think it’s one of them?” I asked as he dragged me down the hall. He didn’t seem mad, only annoyed.

“It could be a staff member that doesn’t know better, but it’s probably them hazing their rookies,” he replied with an eye roll.

We found the Maimers in their dining room, which was a lot like ours, only it had skate smash stuff and was in their colors of red and black. Several of them were eating from the buffet. A TV played in the background. Two very young women played table tennis.

“Attention, Maimers,” Dean said loudly as we entered through the open door. “This is a public service announcement. Contrary to whatever your teammates told you, the small weight room is not the rookie weight room. It’s the alpha-free weight room. Please pass it on to anyone who’s not here. You can now resume your activities. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Sorry about that,” Rusty apologized, hustling over to us. “Someone else told us it was okay. We’ll let her know, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. Besides, we need a favor.” Dean turned on the charm.

“No, you can’t have a thong.” She shook her head, hand on her hip.

“Grif, show her the picture,” Dean told me.

I took out my phone and pulled it up. “I was hoping one of your teammates recently graduated from Briar University? Or came from the Raiders? I’m trying to find someone.”

Rusty looked at the picture and gave me a soul-withering glare. “Why are you looking for her? How do you know her?”

I ran a hand through my hair, a little embarrassed. “Um, I sat next to her on an airplane. I… I wanted to find her.”

“She has my sweatshirt,” Dean added, putting an arm around me.

“Not a good enough reason. Why do you want to find her?” she demanded, posture becoming defensive. A young brunette with two braids crept closer to us.

“Tell us where to find her. Please?” I pleaded. Personally, I was glad someone felt protective of Verity.

“Do you know these people? They’re asking about Team Mom.” Rusty still looked unamused as she motioned for that young brunette woman to join her.

Team Mom?

“Um, that’s Dean Donovan, starting goalie for the Knights, and Griffin McGraff, forward for the Knights, and formerly of the... formerly of the Hurricanes.” The muscular girl definitely looked like she should still be at university, if that.

“Wow, you actually memorized the hockey roster. But do you know them personally, Mercy?” Rusty prodded, giving me another wary look.

Mercy turned to me and sucked in a sharp breath. “Griffin. Grif. Shit, I told her you weren’t a fútboler. She looked for you. But things got... hectic, and we didn’t have the time or energy to search further.”

Rusty laughed. “Team Mom thought he was a fútboler?”

“She was a collegiate fútboler. He said he played forward. That’s where her mind goes.” Mercy shrugged as if that explained everything.

It sort of did.

“You’re the little sister,” I breathed. I’d found a sister.

Thank fuck. The person I’d called this morning wasn’t going to call me back, and I wasn’t creative enough to arrange a fake photoshoot through her modeling agent.

Her brown eyes blinked. “She talked about me? Isn’t the flight like two minutes?”

“She did.” Hope exploded within me.

“When did you start a discovery league, Rusty?” Dean eyed another very young-looking player whose hair was in black and pink puffs, who was now playing table tennis against Liv.

“We didn’t. There was a mix-up, and some of the discovery league candidates ended up on the draft list. It was a huge thing when it finally came to light during the actual draft because we don’t make the draft lists public until it happens,” Rusty told me.

Oh, I had heard about it. I’d felt so bad for the players who’d had their offers rescinded when the PSSL discovered the mix-up.

“Aren’t you sixteen? Don’t you have to be eighteen to go pro?” I asked Mercy. That’s how it was in hockey. Though good for her.

“I’m now seventeen,” Mercy corrected. “Little known fact, skate smash is under the International League of Ice Sports, like figure skating, not the International Association of Team Sports like you. The ILIS allows emancipated minors my age to compete at the elite levels, as long as they can hold their own. Pro skate smash is elite. ”

Well then.

“Unlike some teams, we made it work. An administrative mix-up doesn’t change our need or want for them,” Rusty replied. “We chose them for a reason. If a teenager can do it, then why the fuck not? Right, Mercy?”

Mercy grinned and looked at the girl with the hair puffs. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh yeah, you all have way more input on players than we do,” Dean murmured.

Well, I was glad they’d done right by them.

“Is Verity okay? Where is she? Briar wouldn’t tell me where she transferred,” I asked Mercy, bouncing on the balls of my feet, needing to make sure Verity was okay.

“You looked for her? Impressed. Let her keep the sweatshirt. I’ll buy you a new one. I mean, she’ll give it back if you ask. She has this thing for giant omegas.” She eyed Dean. “But let her keep it? Please?” Pleading notes filled in her voice.

Verity had a thing for giant omegas? Huh. I filed that away for later.

“Will you give her my number? Or tell me where to find her? I played the best game of my life after sitting next to her. Also, I worried about her because she told me a little about the very shitty day she was having.” Desperation filled my voice.

“Oh, I see.” Rusty gave me a sly look and turned to Mercy. “What do you think?”

“She’s only ever said good things about him. But I’m not giving you her number.” Mercy shook her head. “Maybe you could help us out in the ice bath challenge this afternoon? Say, around four? We’re going to be in the student center at NYIT.”

Ice bath challenge? It was October in New York City.

Who was I kidding? I’d walk through fire to find Verity.

“If we help you, you’ll help us find her?” Dean frowned at her.

Her look went sly. “I suppose.”

“Okay. Sure.” Whatever it took. If that meant dunking myself in ice, then I would.

“I get the luck thing. Please, take her to all your away games. She needs fun. Just...” Mercy looked up at me and frowned. “Don’t hurt her. Please?”

This was someone who loved her older sister as much as I loved mine. I respected that.

“That’s the last thing I want to do to her, I assure you of that,” I assured her.

“Good. While she’s not part of the official roster, she’s still one of us. Mess with her, and we’ll do a lot more than tape your sticks in our team colors,” Rusty warned, giving me a menacing look.

Yeah, I didn’t want to mess with Rusty.

“Understood. Come on, Lucky.” I picked up my imaginary cat. “Thanks.”

I’d found Verity. I’d fucking found her. She was even in the same city.

Now, if that wasn’t luck, I didn’t know what was.