Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,33

sitting on him. After that incident, penalties served, the JAR line had never found its footing, and my line deserved the moniker of SHiT.

Andre didn’t bother dressing, the team doctor taking him off. A couple of the guys headed for post-game cool down on bikes, and Alex was definitely limping.

What the fuck? We weren’t even at Christmas, and we’d lost all sense of who we were out there on the ice.

Vlad was quiet in his cubicle, his blond head dipped, still in his skates and rhythmically tapping a finger on his knee. I had this insane urge to go over and ask him if he was okay, but then they called for interviews, and it was him, me, and Alex who were called in.

I couldn’t hear what they were asking Vlad, but I could hear his answers, which were standard replies about not playing the Raptors game, and how lessons would be learned, and congratulating Vancouver on a decisive win.

Alex was way over the other side of the room, attempting to front the fact he’d lost a fight with a D-Man almost twice his size.

And me? I was getting asked a whole ton of shit. After seven years I was used to this, some interviewers asked searching questions that called on the skater to think hard, but tonight this had had the smell of failure.

“Did you mean to turn over the puck at the end of the second?”

“Does anyone mean to do that?” I tried for funny, and then read the crowd. “We all make mistakes, but we learn from them. That was entirely on me.”

“Do you think the investment in you is a good move for the Raptors?”

Shit. The money question, like are you actually worth 23.1 million? “Our team is working well. Learning to adapt.” Take that for avoidance.

“Did you expect to come in and make a distinctive change in the team?”

“The team is strong; you haven’t see us at our best yet.”

“Why haven’t you made a difference?”

Christ, this was back to the headlines when apparently I was coming to the Raptors to save the team. They didn’t need saving, and I hated the assumption that me landing in Arizona would be some kind of freaking salvation. I was good, but the whole team had to be good. And tonight, I’d played like shit.

“We’re working hard,” was all I said.

“Are the troubles you had in Dallas following you here?” One wily reporter thrust the microphone at my face, with a gleam in their eye, and I was this close to expecting a question about Tennant Rowe.

“No.”

I sent a quick glance toward our media rep after I’d managed to answer everything that I was prepared to, and she moved between me and them, and used all manner of persuasion to push them back.

“Tate! Are you aware that your fiancée is—?”

I turned and walked away. Former fiancée, and I was done with tonight.

I didn’t go to Vlad’s room, he didn’t ask me to, but then he’d locked himself away with Coach Carmichael and Colorado, and no doubt shit was going to hit the fan soon anyway. The game tonight, Colorado and his freaking emu and fuck knows what else, and Alex’s limp diagnosed as a pulled muscle, which might pull him out of the final Canada game in Toronto.

Could things get any worse?

The flight from Calgary to Toronto was long and tedious and so very quiet. Not a lot of card-playing, or guys with their hand-held game machines trying to kill each other, just the infrequent buzz of chatter. Alex was slumped in his seat, earbuds in, eyes shut. Colorado was hemmed in by Vlad who was looking ahead with his icy, stony expression, Ryker and Eli had iPads out, Ryker probably contacting Jacob, and I knew Eli was studying for a degree and only had a few credits left he needed to attain. I’d heard from Henry, who had it from Ryker, who’d been told by Sam, that Kricker the emu was now in a better place—a wildlife sanctuary on the outskirts of Tucson, and there was the very real possibility that Colorado was getting a fine for owning an emu which was on the Arizona no-go list.

Trying not to focus on that, or the lack of sexy Russian in any bed anywhere, I put headphones on and selected a random playlist, Muse merging with Kings of Leon, and then changing to Queen and Pink Floyd. I liked the prog rock bands, with soaring lyrics, and an edge to