Finding the Forward, Part One (HockeyVerse)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dean

T he forward from the Glitter City High Rollers, in her blinding gold and white jersey, stole the puck from Nia and raced toward me, relentlessly. So far they hadn’t scored.

We were 2-0 in the third period. I wasn’t giving up my shutout.

As I filled the net, I watched her carefully to see if the forward went to my stick or glove side. The puck flew at the space between my legs. In a blink, I went from a crouch to full butterfly, flat against the ice, cutting off the puck’s access.

The defeat in her shoulders was clear. Not today, Rollers, not today.

I popped back up as Jonas swept away the puck and passed it to Winston, who headed over toward their goal, Nia and Pauley trying to keep the other team away.

Jonas tapped his helmet to mine. Good job. I smacked his ass with my stick, then gave the goalpost a high five. All the action focused on the Roller’s goal as the clock ticked down.

There was a line change. The Rollers barreled toward me with the puck, Grif and Clark on their heels. The crowd chanted the countdown along with the clock. I crouched, ready. Dimitri and Nakey, now on defense, tried to keep the puck away from me.

At one, the forward stole it back from Dimitri and took the shot. I dove for it as the buzzer went off.

And stopped it.

Our team celebrated. Shutout maintained.

I did a happy dance, patting the goalpost in thanks. Had to thank the goalpost.

Members of the team came over to bonk helmets, smash chests, and bump gloves. If we were going to win the PHL championship this year, this was exactly the type of game we needed.

Jonas draped an arm around my shoulders. “Great game, Love.”

Jean-Paul came out onto the ice, fully dressed but with a hat on instead of a helmet. I put my hands up in the air. He skated over and did the same. We bumped chests, then hugged. We played in tandem and he’d play tomorrow’s game. The crowd cheered at our antics. Goalie hugs were the best.

Grif skated over to me and picked me up in the air and swung me around. “Shutout. So fucking proud.”

Yep. I was going to get me some lady alpha action tonight.

“Double D, another shutout. What motivates you?” one reporter asked after the game.

Jonas and I were in our suits and seated at a table with a Knights backdrop. My alpha shot me a look that clearly said don’t say blowjobs.

“My team, of course. We’ve got such a great lineup, and I’m happy to go out there every night and play my best.” I gave Jonas a sly look. “Also b–”

“Brownies,” Jonas interacted, giving me a look, like he actually thought I’d say blowjob to the press. Sure, I could get away with a lot of shit since I was an omega goalie.

But I wouldn't get away with that.

“Brownies?” the baffled reporter asked.

Yeah, I was about to say bread. Everyone knew I liked bread. Sometimes kids brought it to me to trade for pucks at warmup. I wasn’t supposed to eat it, because the whole not taking food from strangers thing.

Sometimes, I had a little nibble anyway.

“Nutrition is an integral part of my performance plan, but who doesn’t love a treat?” I replied, trying to lay on the innuendo.

“I love a good brownie,” another reporter replied. “Where do you like to get yours from?”

“Mmmm, I do like them homemade.” I licked my lips.

“Homemade, like by the mystery person who puts cupcakes in Grif’s locker and makes the team cake pops?” the reporter from SportsBeat asked. She sometimes got to come into our locker room and saw the cupcakes herself.

I wouldn’t mention Verity to the press without talking to her about it. It was enough that there were pictures of her with us online.

“Oh, I don’t eat brownies and tell.” I gave a lusty wink, and everyone laughed.

We finished up and set off to find Grif so we could board the bus to the hotel.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jonas growled, arm around me.

“I was going to say bread , you perv. Everyone knows I like bread. She hasn’t even made us brownies. You know that we’re staying at the same hotel she is.” My eyebrows waggled.

“You know she has responsibilities?” he countered.

“You’re seeing someone?” a judgy, nasally voice echoed down the hall.

“I am, not that it’s anyone’s business, except for my pack and they know,” Grif replied, voice tart, his scent sour.

“Grif, baby. A couple months ago, you were having a panic attack about being traded away from your family. Now you’re seeing someone? Keep your head in the game,” he replied, reeking of cologne.

Great. Grif’s slimeball agent was here. I wasn’t even sure how Grif had originally found him. Back then, Chet was some rich kid whose dad had bought him a job at a reputable agency.

Chet still wasn’t a big agent. He’d also gotten a bad reputation.

“I won’t get distracted. Thank you so much for coming out.” Grif’s voice went tight as he clutched a crocheted flower.

“Chet, how nice to see you. I didn’t know you were in town,” I said through gritted teeth as I came up and put a possessive arm around Grif. Chet’s cologne made me sneeze.

Jonas just grunted and eyed him menacingly.

“Double D, baby. Another shutout. Must be nice having everyone home.” Chet made it sound dirty.

The man only ever wore white or pastel suits with matching boots. Today’s was an iridescent pinstripe–and he wore no shirt under his jacket. He wasn’t much older than us, and a lot of people considered him good-looking.

I thought he was sleazy.

“I love having Grif home. Thanks for that,” I replied through gritted teeth.

Not really. Chet could've done better in getting Grif traded to us faster.

“I have some clients playing in that skate smash rookie thing tomorrow, so I was glad I could catch the second half of your game. You’re all on fire. Keep it up. Anyhow. I’ve got to go.” With a wave, the oily agent left.

“I don’t like him. Our agent would take you,” Jonas grumbled to Grif.

Grif shook his head, his hair still damp. “Chet’s been with me since the beginning. He’s done so much for me.”

No, he hadn’t. Grif scored the winning goal in the championship. He should have major sponsors falling all over themselves. All he’d gotten was a photoshoot from the equipment company, Thunderbolt, who was already his sponsor, and a small sponsorship from Griffin Sock Company. Grif had been wearing their socks with his suit at finals, given to him by his mom as a joke, and they’d noticed.

He should be doing advertisements for breakfast cereal and sports drinks. Maybe even model underwear like Clark.

“Where did you get the flower?” I eyed it. Was that an omega lily made of yarn?

A goofy grin crossed his face. “I traded a puck for it. Do you think she’ll like it?”

Awww.

“She’ll love it. Guess who’s at our hotel?” I leaned into Grif, getting a hit of his rainy scent.

“Yes. With her siblings,” Grif nodded. “While we can see her, that blowjob from her might have to wait.”

I whimpered. “But...”

“From her.” Grif pulled me to him, kissing me so deeply my toes curled.

Okay, that would do. Still, I hoped she had time for me tonight, too.