A Crack in the Ice

Chapter 8: Bar down

Reece

I never expected to be sitting on the floor of the bathroom in the locker room, leaning over the toilet as I vomit my guts out right before the game. The entire hour before warmups Chris had cast wary looks my way. Then, just before I was forced to rush to the bathroom, he pulled my jersey off me like he had known what was coming.

"What the hell, Reece?" Chris scrutinizes me from his position leaning against the door frame. "I know you get nervous, but geez, this is something else. We're supposed to be warming up right now."

I wave a lazy hand at him before grumbling, "I'll be fine. Gimme a minute."

"Ellis!" I hear Coach Sullivan boom from the locker room. His muffled footsteps become louder and louder before finally stopping right outside the bathroom. "Where the hell is Ellis!" he shouts at Chris.

"In there." I hear Chris mutter.

More footsteps slap against the cold tiles of the floor before the door to my stall widens. "Jesus, Ellis, what the hell is wrong with you? You sick?"

"Don't worry, Coach, he's just nervous." Chris supplies.

Another wave of nausea pulls my head back down just as Coach backs out of the stall and turns to Chris. "Why the hell is he so nervous, we beat this team every year?"

I cross my fingers and silently beg Chris not to say what I think he already knows. But my plea goes unheard.

"There's a girl coming to watch him play."

That little motherfucker.

"And is she also coming to watch me kick his ass?" Coach shouts. "Ellis, you better have your ass on the ice in the next five minutes, or I'm gonna lose it! Ziggy, you make sure he's out there, or it'll be your ass on the line, Captain." He walks away grumbling and muttering about us with a number of obscenities.

"I'll be fine. I think it's almost over." I assure Chris, then I'm forced to duck my head a second time as bile rises in the back of my throat.

* * *

Parker

We walk into the ice forum much earlier than the crowd and are able to steal seats close to the glass. It's just as cold as I remember it and I love it. "So, who are they playing today?"

"I don't know, actually." Ashley admits uselessly.

I turn a furrowed brow at her as we settle into our seats. "What, you didn't ask?"

"No," she says, and the word sounds so carefree I wonder if she cares at all.

A minute later, the two teams race out onto the ice to begin warming up and my eyes roam over the purple and silver jerseys in search of Chris.

"Here," Ash hands me a jersey and slips her own on. I quickly pull the jersey over my gray hoodie before gluing my eyes back on the ice in search of them. The players move in a circle as they take turns shooting on the goalie before going off to collect their puck. "Oh, there's Chris." She points to the second player in line, number forty four, the last name Ziegler stamped above it. His sand colored hair sticks out of the rim of his helmet in tiny curls.

I sweep my eyes over every single Silver Bear but still can't find Ellis anywhere. "Is Reece not playing or something?" I ask.

"Oh God, I hope he is." A voice says from my other side. The next thing I know Val is plopping down beside me and throwing her legs up on the seat in front of me. I conduct a quick scan of her outfit to see that she's wearing bright pink boots, skinny jeans and, yes, Wrenny's hockey jersey. My lips tug up in a smile as I remember what she'd said about not letting anyone stake their claim on her. So much for that.