Sugar and Ice - RJ Scott Page 0,9
if either of you know where he is?”
Alex and Ryker exchanged looks. I was sure that Henry was hidden away somewhere counting down to the last second he needed to be lined up for hitting the ice in warmups, but I didn’t know this arena well enough yet to know where all the best hiding spots were.
“Colorado’s rec room,” Alex said after a pause.
“Follow the corridor round to the left, take a sharp right, there’s a door marked private, he’ll be there,” Ryker said.
“If Vlad wants to know where we are…” Vlad and his icy Russian-ness sent chills down my spine when he was pissed, but I think it was for all the wrong reasons. And the right ones. I respected him as a captain; he had a control of this team that was beginning to show returns, because it wasn’t just power, it was mutual respect and hard work and unfailing encouragement. But, I’d already had my fingers burned with lusting after Ten from afar and see how that had turned out. He’d left Dallas without a backward glance, and we’d never kept in touch even though we’d joined Dallas only a year apart, and were the new kids on the team.
“We’ll tell Vlad you’re team-building,” Alex suggested.
I turned sharply and headed in the direction I’d been told to go, and stopped outside the door marked Private. This was not an official private room. I could tell that because it didn’t have the fancy sign with the raptor in the corner, instead there was a handwritten piece of paper held up with hockey tape.
Stay the hell out, private space, people might be fucking and it was signed with a big C.
Yep, that was Colorado.
He had either had the best idea ever making this room a private space, or else management just hadn’t ventured this far into the bowels of the Raptors’ arena and so hadn’t found it.
I knocked. Only because the sign made me consider an image in which there was sex going on inside and I didn’t want to interrupt anything.
“Henry? It’s me,” I said, “Tate,” I added, because he might not have recognized my voice.
“Come in,” Henry called
I cautiously opened the door, found him staring at a wall, in full kit, skate guards on, with his arms over his chest. I closed the door behind me and came to stand by him, noting as I did, the two cozy sofas and the small desk along with a mini coffee maker and a lamp. Someone had gone to great lengths to make this a room a haven for a player to escape to. I followed his gaze to the wall and blinked at the glittery poster that had to be nearly as tall as us, and half as wide.
“Apollo made it,” Henry said, and didn’t unfold his arms.
It was glittery and pink from corner to corner. Tiny stars formed words, and at the bottom there was a fluffy heart.
Henry cleared his throat and began to read the words on the poster. “I can do this. I am a brilliant hockey player. I can skate. I will score many goals. I can see everything. I am the best.” He stopped then.
“I am loved,” I continued, and then saw that it was signed in what looked like sparkling gold pen. “And the one who loves you the most is Apollo.”
“Why did you want me on your wing?” Henry blurted.
That was an easy one to answer.
“We work so well together, you, me, young Sam.” I was only five years older than Sam Bennett, but as a rookie still he would always be young Sam. Until Colorado gave him a nickname and then everything would change.
“What if I can’t hear you properly, what if the quieter practices have made it easier to know where you were?”
“You have a preternatural skill at knowing where I am at all times.” I pointed at the poster and each item in turn. “You can do this. You are a brilliant hockey player. You can skate, actually faster and better than a hundred players in the NHL. You will score many goals. You can see and hear things that others miss, and you are the best.”
“Are you going to tell me that you love me?” He smirked
I returned the smile. “Not today, but I like you dude, so you wanna go warm up and play some hockey?”
He repeated the words once more, and then shook himself loose. “Let’s do this.”
When we got back to the locker room