Trade Deadline - Avon Gale Page 0,32

said, heart pounding. “I—when you’re back, let’s go to the beach.” All this talking about reminiscing was making him remember lazy days at the beach, playing in the water and worrying about nothing more than their Capri Suns getting too warm or remembering to slather Micah with sunscreen so he didn’t get sunburned. “I learned how to surf, and I bet you’d like it, Mr. Athlete.” They’d never progressed much beyond boogie boards, as kids.

“Hey, yeah, that would be great!” Daniel said, and smiled. “Then I’ll say thanks, too. That was great, and you really—you really did it, man. Your dream job, just like you used to pretend to have when we were kids. I’m so proud.”

“Thanks,” Micah said. “So did you! I’ll even watch your games when you’re on your road trip. See if I can figure out all these rules.”

“My team scores enough penalties, you’ll figure those out soon enough,” Daniel said with a wince. “Especially the too many men one.”

Micah laughed, then realized he was serious. “Wait, is that a thing? Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” he joked, and Daniel laughed.

When Micah was alone again, he watched Daniel head to his car then went back to the dolphin enclosure. He did, as promised, give Silver a couple of fish. “I think I’m in trouble, buddy.”

Silver chirped. It kind of sounded like he was laughing.

Laughed at by a dolphin. Great.

Chapter Eleven

The Thunder had one last road trip before Thanksgiving, but it was a rough schedule—three games in five nights against a few eastern Canadian teams. Their record was abysmal, and they had the unpleasant distinction of still being dead last in the standings. Worse yet, they were squaring off against the Montreal Maroons, who were third in the rankings behind the Marauders and the Venom. The Maroons currently had the best power play in the league and one of the lead goal scorers. They were a deep threat, and the Thunder had suffered an embarrassing loss against them the last time they’d played against each other. Daniel’s teammates weren’t going into this game with a positive attitude—then again, when did they ever?

At least the atmosphere in the locker room had thawed over the weeks. Frigid silence got old really quickly, but Demetrius was always there trying to lighten the mood, and Daniel got along easily with most people. His teammates had realized that soon after the season started. The one major holdout was Cedric, who constantly gave Daniel the cold shoulder, no matter how many times Daniel tried to engage him in conversation.

The game started off well enough. The first period ended without any points on the board, and by the middle of the second, neither team had scored. Compared to the blowout the last time they’d faced the Maroons, no goals on either side was a definite improvement.

Of course, it wasn’t meant to last.

Daniel was barreling toward the offensive zone on a breakaway when one of the Maroons’ defensemen picked his pocket and sent the puck back to one of their forwards...who promptly sailed right around several hapless Thunder players and scored on Spacek.

Daniel groaned and put his chin to his chest as the horn sounded and the Maroons clustered together to celebrate their goal. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. It was only one goal, but this team didn’t need much to put them in a despondent mood.

If only he’d guarded the puck better, if only he’d moved faster. If only, if only.

Someone bumped his shoulder, hard, and Daniel jerked his head up to spot Cedric giving him a death glare. Shit. Now the guy was going to hate him even more, although every player turned a puck over or had one stolen from time to time, so really, what was the guy’s problem?

It might not have been so bad if the Thunder had managed to score a single goal, but in the end they lost 2–0, and on a shot that trickled through Spacek’s five-hole with awkward, embarrassing slowness.

Everyone was in a bad mood in the dressing room afterward. Daniel was trying to rein in his temper—it was rare he allowed anger to overwhelm him—but when Cedric started cursing up a storm and flinging his equipment left and right, he finally lost his cool.

“Hey!” Daniel snapped. “How about you dial down the tantrum, huh? Not even my six-year-old throws her toys around when she’s upset.”

Cedric was in his face in an instant. “You shut up. The first goal was your fault. You gave