Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,13

right winger. The crowd chirped, but I ignored them.

Pitts smiled, showing his red mouth guard, then gave his attention to the official. We were both fast on the drop, but I gained control. Speed was my friend as I hauled ass to toward Montreal’s goaltender, who was poised to block whatever we sent his way.

Stick loose in my hand, I handled the puck like it was connected to me. I closed in on the attacking zone and passed it over to Kris.

The scrape of the blades on the ice was mixed with heavy breaths. Kris passed to Alex; Montreal intercepted briefly before Dmitry slammed the player into the wall and Kris regained control of the puck. When I knew I was clear, I called to Kris. He passed to me as I came in fast and snapped the puck into the net.

Yes!

I was back in the game.

We celebrated in a smashed huddle with shouting, taps to the helmets, and Alex embracing me as he roared into my ear. Laughing, we broke up and resumed play.

For the rest of the game, we played hard, but we were always one point behind. As we all boarded the bus, every player was subdued. Coach had already given us constructive criticism and thanked us for working our asses off the last two periods. Unfortunately, Montreal had worked harder.

Alex slid into the seat next to me at the back of the bus.

“Fuck, that was painful,” he grumbled as he dropped his head back to the headrest.

“Hell yeah, it was,” I agreed.

“So what are you going to do?” he asked me.

“Drink until my liver explodes,” I mumbled.

Despite the somber mood on the bus, he chuckled quietly. Brow furrowed in confusion, I looked over at him.

“I’m not sure what’s funnier—the fact that you aren’t looking to get laid tonight or that you misunderstood what I was asking you,” Alex said with a grin.

“Huh?”

“That girl obviously has you some kind of tied up if you aren’t looking for an easy lay after a shit game.”

I sighed. He was right, and there was no logical explanation for it. “So what do you think I should do?”

“Dude, just ask her out,” he said as he gave me a look that said I was slow on the uptake. I rolled my eyes at him.

“No shit. I meant what should I plan? I haven’t been on an actual date in years. Except for your wedding,” I replied.

“Why don’t you take her skating like I did for Sydney? She seemed to enjoy that. Maybe your girl will too.” He shrugged, then grinned. “You never know. Not to mention, it was hot seeing her on the ice.”

For a moment, I pondered his suggestion. Maybe if I taught her to skate, she would have a different outlook on hockey. I did remember Sydney saying how sweet and romantic it was that Alex had done that. With a nod, I pulled out my phone.

Me: Hey. Can I call you when we get back to the hotel? It was a shit night. Lost tonight. Just wanted to talk

The dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared again.

My Angel: Sure

Me: Thanks

My Angel: I’m sorry about the game

Me: It happens but it still sucks

My Angel: Talk to you soon

When we arrived at the hotel, we all disembarked and made our way inside. It would be an early morning, as we had a short turnaround for the next game. We were flying to Boston first thing so we’d be able to get in some ice time.

Alex opened our room with his card key and went in and fell on his bed. I’d planned to change, then go have a drink, but I paused.

“I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back soon.”

Alex nodded and undid his tie. The door closed as I headed down the hall. Miikka Heikkinen and Nathaniel Sinner passed me as they went into their room next door to ours. We shared a nod, and I kept going.

At the end of the hall there was a window overlooking the night lights of Montreal. Despite the heat in the building, I could feel the cold through the glass.

Suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, I shook my head. Then I pulled my phone out of my pants pocket and dialed Bleu’s number.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hey. You’re not busy, are you?” I asked.

“Hmm, well, I just stepped out of the orgy, so I don’t have long. What’s up?” If I hadn’t heard the laughter in her voice, I might’ve gotten my hackles up. The mere thought of