Pining: Forgiveness Ch. 05

Bang!

Roman bulldozed me into the boards. I dumped the puck where I knew Silas would pick it up. He circled the net and fired a bullet.

Our goalie, Casey O'Brey batted it away. Lucas picked up the rebound and launched a wrist shot rocket. With the calm of Qui-Gon Jinn, O'Brey reached out with a stick save. I picked up the puck and tried to snap it in.

O'Brey picked it off with his glove. Fuck, our goalie was good. He was like Vader deflecting blaster bolts. If the Maple Leafs really did pick him up after graduation, they still might not make the Cup but nobody would score while O'Brey was in the crease. Maybe they hadn't, because he was still here. If he'd signed with anyone, he'd not be able to play NCAA. If a NHL team handed me a contract, I'd sign immediately.

O'Brey threw out the puck. Levi picked it up and we faced off.

Levi never stood a chance. I was first line. He was reserve. But Roman was not. He plowed me into the boards so hard my helmet should've cracked the Plexiglas. I got the pass off to Silas, who lobbed it to Lucas. Lucas bobbled the puck. Peters picked it up and slapped it down court for a Nolan breakaway. Matthews was no O'Brey.

Coach whistled us in, ending the scrimmage. He gave each of us a few pointers and handed out a word or two of praise, where deserved. He sent us to the showers at an hour when most college students were still dreaming.

My boys and I piled off the ice. For most of us, course loading was heavier Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so Coach had decided we needed to get up at some ungodly hour for drills and scrimmage. When the season got under way, when we played late games, things would change. He broke us into smaller teams for weight and endurance training later in the day. We'd all meet in the early evening for strategy and critique. Tuesday's, Thursday's and Saturday's morning skate started later but lasted longer. It was a brutal schedule.

Which was okay. I needed this. Coach Wilson had lifted our hockey team out of obscurity. Our rankings were on the rise, but not fast enough for me. I had this year and next to catch the eye of a scout. I'm too old for the NHL draft. They only draft nineteen year olds. I have to get on a team as a free agent. I can sign with an agent after I graduate but it'd be best if I caught the eye of a team while I can still showcase my skills. I held the school record for goals. Last year I was second in the league for assists. At the end of last season I was one of the ten fastest men in collegiate hockey. By the end of this season, I planned to be the fastest. Unfortunately, Cascade Pines was West Coast. We didn't draw as many scouts as East Coast schools. Hockey just wasn't a thing out here—yet.

Roman climbed over the bench to reach the locker beside mine. "You okay there, Col?"

I cocked a brow. "My head wasn't in the barf bin."

There was a benefit to working my ass off every day, even in the summer. Coach loved his wind sprints. My head was about the only head that hadn't been in the barf bin. Silas might've been the other one. I was the fastest man on the team but even I had been feeling it by the time Wilson had mercy on us.

"Heard some chick laid you out."

Not this again. Two weeks into the quarter and my idiot friends still hadn't let it go. Owen had seen McKenzie clock me. He'd told Silas. Silas had told Potts. Potts had told everyone. The tale grew taller with every telling. Today "some chick" had "laid me out." Tomorrow it would be that some prissy twelve year old girl had handed me my ass.

"Yeah, wasn't she like five-two?" Casey O'Brey yelled from the other side of the room.

"Naw," Owen said, "but she was definitely anorexic. I felt bad for her."

"Fuck you." I cracked my towel on Owen's ass. He let out a satisfying yelp and flipped me off. I stalked towards the showers. "Kenzie's a friend, don't dis her."

"Some friend." I'm not sure who said that.

"How's your jaw, Col," Lucas mocked.

It fucking hurt. I'd had hits on the ice that'd done way more physical damage. Shit, I'd seen stars after that second hit from Roman this very morning. But the pain in my jaw wasn't physical. I mean, the bruise had healed more than a week ago, but I couldn't forget the impact of her hand or haunted pain in Kenzie's gaze. It still fucking burned that she'd talk to Ash and not to me. I did not want to hate McKenzie. Not ever. Not even for a split second.

Roman claimed the shower stall next to mine. We had some privacy but the construction team must've thought hockey players were midgets. There were maybe two guys on the team who might not have been able to see over top of the partitions. O'Brey was one of them.

"Did she mean something to you, Col? You break her heart or something?

Break her heart? I ripped it out, stomped on it and threw it in the trash. "Or something," I muttered.

"You want to talk?" Roman sounded sincere, but even through the steam I could see his shit eating grin.

"Fuck you. I'm not a girl."

"Just checking." He guffawed. "Thought she might've ripped your nuts off."

"Nope. Still attached." I side eyed him. "Unlike yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Where does Clara keep them?" I couldn't believe they were still together. Like me, Roman didn't do girlfriends but he'd kept Clara on past her expiration date. "In the pantry? On her nightstand?" I slammed the water valve. Someone, maybe Silas, cussed. I toweled off and headed back to my locker.

A mirthful rumbled sounded from Roman's chest. "You know Col, Clara can keep my nuts. I like balling her."

Two years ago, I had too. I would've kept balling her had we been able to keep things casual. Hockey was my life. I didn't have time for girls that wanted more. I didn't have time to want more. I definitely didn't have time to be strung along by some chick while she tugged me this way and that. Clara tried to do exactly that.

I wasn't usually like this. I didn't actually have a problem with Clara other than the way she'd gone about trying to get more from me. But ever since the end-of-summer-beach-party my every thought led me back to McKenzie. I had a one track mind. That was okay when it was hockey, but no woman, not even the girl who had once been my BFF, should be taking up this much space in my brain. Women were trouble. I knew that. It was making me grumpy. It reminded me too much of how Mom had ruined Dad.

Roman, Lucas and I made plans to grab a second breakfast at a campus diner not far from the athletics center. The place, I swear, had a menu devised by our nutritionist so it wouldn't be too difficult to stay on plan. Owen passed and said he was going back to the condo to crash. I think he partied too hard last night. Because I'm an asshole, I clapped him on the back and told him we'd see him later. When he winced, we all laughed.

"Kimball!" Coach Wilson hadn't actually yelled my name. His indoor voice was just ten decibel louder than everyone else. When he shouted, you knew it. "A word?"

"Sure, Coach."

I waved off the guys saying I'd catch up with them at the diner. Coach stepped back in his office.

He slapped my transcript down on his desk. I swear his palm made a sound that made me think the writing surface might crack in half. "What's this?"

Fuck me. I hadn't even seen this quarter's grades yet. I knew I hadn't been doing well in Statistics but I hadn't expected a D-minus. Between the B-minus in The Art of Interview and the C in Broadcasting Journalism I was rocking a solid C-minus for the start of term. If I couldn't bring it up to at least a C by the end of midterms, Coach Wilson would have to bench me. I'm not some dumb jock. I knew I could bring the other two grades up, but statistics was defeating me. Friday had been the last day to drop the course.

"If you flunk off this team, Kimball, I'll have you doing hurricane sprints from dawn to dusk. Do you hear me?"

There was no pressure Coach could put on me that I wasn't putting on myself. "Yes"

"What's that, Kimball?"

"Yes, sir!" Coach could've been the drill sergeant in any military movie ever.

"Get yourself a tutor."

A tutor? There weren't any listed on CPUbytes—the university's social forum. I'd checked. But I knew a certain dark haired beauty that'd claimed statistics was easy. All I had to do was get her to forgive me.