Sugar and Ice (Raptors Book 4)

by RJ Scott

  “Nothing, I didn’t do anything. We were just talking about… never mind what we were talking about.” Jeez, why was I on the defensive there? “I was just looking for him.”

  Ryker went back to lacing but I could see the tension in his shoulders, and then he stalked toward me and inclined his head to indicate that I should follow.

  “This is Henry’s first full game back on the ice,” Ryker said, as soon as we were out of hearing of the rest of the team.

  “I know.” I’d followed the story that had been Henry’s life the last year and had gravitated toward him on my first day with the Raptors. I called him a friend, and I thought Ryker was one as well, but the way he was staring at me, waiting for me to do something he didn’t approve of made me feel a hundred kinds of shit.

  “Don’t mess with his head.” He crossed his hands over his chest.

  I winced. “I’m not, I wouldn’t, I just want to do my usual chat, it’s like my… when I was in Dallas—”

  “This isn’t Dallas,” Ryker murmured and drew himself to his full height, and given he was in his skates that made him a little taller than me. I could see his dad in him, that stubborn tilt of his chin, that stony-eyed warning that he would stand his ground, particularly when it concerned his best friend.

  “I know it’s not Dallas,” I said, as patiently as I could. This was better than Dallas, this was a chance for a new start, but I wasn’t telling Ryker that.

  “If all you’re here for is to look fancy ass on the ice and order him around—”

  “Now, hang on—”

  “He’s a good guy—”

  “I just want to check in with him, don’t you guys check in on each other before games? We did in Dallas—”

  “Wassup, Ry, is something wrong with Henry?” Alex came up behind him. Jeez, Alex the back-up was here as well?

  What did they think I was going to do with him? Warn him that if he fucked up I’d hire a hitman? Stab him with a skate blade? What?

  “He’s my wingman, this is just a welfare check.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and wondered how it had gone from me and Ryker rolling on the floor laughing at Colorado yesterday to this brick wall today.

  “‘Just like in Dallas’,” Ryker mimicked, and that hurt, because Ryker was one of the good guys, not a man who would lash out at someone and put them down. I could see the temper flash in his eyes and vanish. “I was out of order, sorry,” he murmured. “We’re just worried about him, is all.”

  “He had a bad night,” Alex murmured.

  “You did?” I peered at Ryker, he seemed fine.

  Ryker huffed. “Not me, Henry. His partner, Apollo, talked to Adler who told Ten who texted me this morning, to say that Henry wasn’t in a good place.”

  Did I wince when he mentioned Ten’s name? Was my unrequited lust for Tennant freaking Rowe written on my face?

  Ryker’s expression didn’t change, so I think I got away with it, and Alex sighed, “I tried to talk to Henry, but he was real quiet, and said he was okay. We just think… look, Coach putting him with you, is it too much?”

  “What?” That was what they worried about? “No! I want him on my wing, he’s… wait, I don’t want to be saying this to you, I want to say this to him. So will you help me and tell me 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 everyone else had taken places in the line for the ice; only Vlad was left and he looked a combination of pissed and worried. I imagine he was concerned for Henry and angry at me, but I wasn’t going to think about his motivations.

  “Is Henry okay?” His tone was warm and encouraging, and I could imagine him whispering that in my ear as he…. Stop now. Remember the Tennant Rowe mess, remember how your stupid crush made you act like a moron.

  Henry nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

  “Join the line, kid.”

  Then he turned to me, glanced at me from head to toe and then
back to my face. “Shouldn’t a phenom like you know that you need skates on the ice?”

  Ouch. I could so rise to that, but I didn’t. I was never rude to anyone, that was my label, only I could push a little bit, because the way Vlad was staring at me with his gorgeous icy blue eyes, was all kinds of hot.

  “Wait?” I said and clutched at my chest. “You’re telling me I need skates to play hockey?” I was trying for funny, but maybe I came off as disrespectful. I was just being pure Tate—the smiling sunshine hockey player. But had my shine been dulled by the whole Lacey thing? Was I going to get thrown off the team? Or thumped? Or locked in the sex room for the duration of the game?

  Great, I’m second guessing myself.

  “Skates on, line up,” Vlad snapped at me.

  I gave him a salute, laced my skates and headed to my place in the line. Warmup was the team going out before a game and skating around trying to appear cool while loosening muscles, along with as many sexy stretches as we could manage. In warmups I didn’t have a lucky place in the line as such, but I ended up with Ryker and Alex, who both gave me looks that asked all the questions about whether Henry was okay. I just nodded as subtly as I could.

  We headed onto the ice, and as soon as the brisk air hit me, and my blades touched the cold stuff I was in heaven. The cheering wasn’t as loud as it had been at Dallas, but then, this was a pre-season game, and the Raptors weren’t known for full arenas at the best of times. I skated a lazy lap of our half of the ice, closing past the San Diego Suns players, who kept throwing me glances. I’d been Tate Collins, first line center for Dallas, with an A on my chest, respected, a phenom, even better than the great Tennant Rowe, yet here I was on a team that wasn’t likely to break into the top half of the league this year unless there was a miracle. Every time I caught myself in a mirror in the dark red and gold of the Raptors colors it shocked me. Seven years I’d worn green, seven freaking years, and I wondered if I’d ever get used to the colors of fall next to my skin?

  We took shots on Colorado, our starting goalie, who for once appeared to be doing what he should have been doing. You know, being the kind of goalie that actually stayed in net and didn’t do random cartwheels.

  I saw plenty of Colorado fans with boards, a lot for Ryker, even a whole gaggle for Vlad whose head had been photoshopped into a Top Gun poster, and two for me.

  Two.

  When I was used to taking up the entire freaking stadium.

  I made a point of heading over to them, one a family with two kids, another two giggling girls.

  Welcome to Arizona! The family sign said, and I sent a couple of pucks over the top to the kids.

  It’s my birthday and all I want is a puck from Tate Collins! This sign was covered in lipstick hearts.

  I sent over two pucks, and the girls blew kisses, and I smiled at them politely. Which was the exact opposite to Colorado who was now doing something weird with his stick and sending his fans into a frenzy. I wasn’t going to look.

  We shuttled pucks between us, worked on some lines, the JAR line up first, Ryker, Jens, and Alex, so in sync it was poetry in motion, and then it was us up next, me, Sam, and Henry. The SHT line?

  Yeah, right. I bet we only needed to wait a couple of games before someone on an opposing team made a poster with SHT and added a small ‘I’ in the middle. We took things slowly, worked our line, got pucks past a posturing Colorado, and caught him on the ass with the last one.

  I just wanted him to know we were there.

  Then we were off the ice, and I was gratified at least that the arena had filled some more. It could be the draw was seeing Ryker the upcoming bright star of the NHL, or Vlad the icy D-man with his flawless hockey, or maybe it was to support Henry. Hell, but maybe, they were here to see me as well. They might not care about the lies on the television show, or the implication I’d cheated on Lacey, or physically hurt her, maybe they just wanted to watch hockey.

  Then I saw the one sign that I wished I hadn’t spotted. A huge one of me and Lacey. And a huge jagged line down the middle, and the words were simple. Tate sucks!

  Great.

  We headed to the locker room for the short time before the game, I was between Sam and Henry, and somehow I was deflated, and I couldn’t help seeing some of the glances sent my way. No one had come up to me at any point since I arrived in Arizona and asked if what Lacey was saying was true, no one wanted to know specifics why Dallas had traded me. No one cared enough to ask, but I was sure they were judging me in their silence.

  “Guys…” I began, but Ryker stick tapped my leg.

  “Fuck that shit, Tate, let’s take the Suns down.”

  The tension was high, but when Colorado began singing ‘Don’t let the sun go down on me’, with accompanying lewd hands movements, everyone laughed.

  I hovered near the back of the line. I’d always been one of the first on the ice back at Dallas, but here, I was making a new path for myself, and I didn’t believe in the luck thing as much as some of the others here.

  “I go last,” Vlad said, in that soft accented, yet stern way of his.

  “I’ll take second last,” I suggested, and no one else jumped up and demanded they wanted that space because it was their lucky space. A muscle twitched in Vlad’s temple, and I wasn’t stupid; I could see he had something to say about that, but the line moved as each player hit the ice and whatever he was going to say was lost in the cheers of the crowd.

  Hitting the cold stuff for real was like being home, the speed, the life I felt when I was skating was my happy place. Ryker’s line peeled off, along with Vlad and Eli, plus Colorado standing in net, the rest of us headed for the bench and remained standing while Mitzy J, a local mall singer, took us through the national anthem. I bowed my head in respect and my heart swelled as the six thousand or so fans sang along.

  In Dallas, I would’ve been the one out there on the ice for the anthem, first line, standing and representing the team. Here, it was all about me on the benches, waiting for my turn. I was integral to the penalty kill, then I would be playing alongside Ryker, but for now I was waiting with Henry and Sam.

  The horn sounded and it was game on.

  Ryker was fast, the whole JAR line in sync from the first moment, but the Suns had a D pair all over them, and that was the way it worked. They put the best defense out for the hottest players, but maybe with me in the second line, that would split their D. I was better than Ryker, I knew that, everyone knew that, faster, I could see things that others missed, and maybe that would work in our favor.

  I wanted that first line, I wanted an A on my chest, I wanted the Raptors to get to the cup finals, and I was going to help take them there.

  I will prove that I’m a good player.

  And a good man.

  As soon as Henry, Sam and I were over the boards we were hassled and hustled, and I got the sense Henry was nervous, while on the other hand, Sam was like an exuberant puppy. The sync wasn’t there yet, but we managed a shot on goal and, but for a slight deflection off a Suns defenseman’s stick, that would have been our first goal.

  The next time we went over, Henry was all about the confidence, Sam was still a puppy.

  In the third and final period with the game tied at two goals each, Henry was on fire, anticipating where I would be, or where Sam was, he was blind passing. I caught the puck, but got blocked in the corner. Sam was there, no longer bouncy, but passionate about getting that disc of rubber on his stick, scrappy and fighting against the opposing team’s biggest D-man. As a line we got the puck out of the corner, I threaded the puck through two D-men, passed it to Henry who flew around the back of the net, changing direction on a dime, and shooting past the Suns goalie who’d been fixated on me and Sam. Goal!

  When the horn sounded I grabbed at Sam and Henry and we shouted with glee.

  This might have been a practice game, we didn’t even get points from this for the league stats, but fuck, we were on fire!

  The Raptors fans were e
cstatic, the Suns fans chanting something I couldn’t make out, and we were closing period three with a one goal lead. They called us the Craptors, and we were beating the Suns, a team that had made last year’s cup race, even if they did lose in the second round.

  Okay, so maybe today they hadn’t put out their full roster, not their best like we had, but the pat on the head we got from Coach was the greatest thing ever.

  Almost as good as the fist-bump I got from Vlad, and the nod he added in his supremely cool way.

  “I got a goal,” Henry yelled in my ear.

  “You rock!” I shouted back, as the arena erupted into applause.

  I looked up. One of the Suns had tripped Vlad, sending him careening into the net, taking it and Colorado on a sliding mess of limbs to the wall. No one was hurt, but this was it, we were on a power play.

  Getting the tap to indicate I was going over with Ryker, was like the icing on the freaking cake.

  One Ryker-goal later—the puck defying gravity and wobbling on its edge before sliding under the goalie—and there was no chance of the Suns catching up.

  This rag-tag Raptors team that worked damn hard to be better?

  Yeah. We rocked.

  And everything was quiet, and on an even keel.

  Until Lacey posted about my attraction to Tennant Rowe, only an hour before I was leaving for a team party.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  Chapter Four

  Vlad

  Humming Taylor’s hit song ‘You Need to Calm Down’, I swiped at the steamy mirror above my bathroom sink to make a small hole to see myself. Frank was bathing in the shower now, the stream turned on cool and aimed at the wooden perch made just for my walk-in shower stall.

  “Are you enjoying your shower?” I called to the bird in English. He wolf whistled in return. With a smile I ran my hand over my chin, opting out of shaving. Tonight was a party for the team, not a black tie affair. “Are you a handsome bird?” I glanced in the mirror to see him standing with his back to the stream, wings spread wide. “Who is a handsome bird?”