Ice Cold

25

Landon Reilly

I was too busy glaring at Cooper talking with my usual line mates to hear Rojas call out for me the first time. It wasn't until he raised his voice and shook my shoulder that I turned to face him.

"You good?" he asked, staring intensely into my eyes.

"Yeah," I answered quickly. "I'm fine."

"Don't be nervous about switching it up," he said. "Change is good and it's going to make you an even better player, so don't sweat it."

He lightly punched my shoulder and started us on some drills for warm ups.

I found myself having to focus more on my movements, having to stop myself from moving center, looking to Rojas for direction. Usually I had no problem focusing on hockey, but there was too much going on in my head at once to keep my thoughts on the task at hand.

Whatever I had going on with Wren was stuck in my mind all the time, and sometimes my father's voice found its way back to me. It was mostly random. I wouldn't even be thinking about Wren and then suddenly I heard my father telling me how disgusting I was for letting another man touch me. Sometimes I felt myself agreeing with him.

Now I had Cooper replacing me on my line and all the anger and resentment that came with that.

Then, of course, the game started and I came face to face with someone I didn't expect to see on the ice. One of Elijah's old teammates, Ian, was on the opposing team, and I would have believed that he didn't recognize me if it wasn't for the side ways glances he kept throwing my way and the stare down every time I skated by their bench.

So that was another thing for my mind to dwell on. Ian being here, a physical reminder of all I had done to Elijah and everything that had happened last year.

I didn't remember much about that night I was drunk and stumbled my way to Micah's house, but when he had told me about it afterwards, he said Elijah and Ian were there which only added to my embarrassment. Ian, someone I barely even knew, saw me at my most vulnerable, and now I had to face him.

And he wasn't going easy on me.

Every check was deliberate and rough. He sent me right into the boards every chance he got. He stole the puck from me whenever it was on my stick. I was all the motivation he needed to play the best hockey of his life.

Ian wouldn't let me get a shot on net. He blocked me, crowded me, made me miserable on the ice. That was just what he wanted. Although he didn't look smug, I could tell he was enjoying tormenting me.

"That number 77 seems like he's out for blood with you," Rojas said from beside me on the bench, squirting water into his mouth.

"Yeah, we sort of know each other," I muttered, glaring out at the ice.

"Okay, so give it back to him," Rojas said. "Don't let him push you around. That gives him the advantage."

On our next shift, I took Rojas's advice. When Ian came for me, I passed off the puck and put force into our collision which made him stumble back. He barely spared me a glance before taking off toward where I sent the puck.

However, the next time he came after me, he caught me off guard and sent me flying face first into the boards. The refs' whistles blew and I looked back to see one of my teammates shoving Ian.

"You good?" Rojas asked, bending down to talk to me.

I nodded and took his out stretched hand to let him help me up.

I watched as Ian skated over to the penalty box, earning himself two minutes for boarding and putting us on the power play.

Coach Foreman had called us off the ice for the first half of the power play to give us some time to rest up. Then, for the last half, we were on the ice. And without Ian and his personal attacks, I could actually move with the puck.