If anything could poke Gage’s idyllic bubble, it was the thorn he labeled his “slumping play.” Coach had demoted him to the third line, where he couldn’t get enough ice time to bring his play back up to its usual first-line level. A vicious cycle that frustrated the hell out of him, especially as he watched Hunter replace him and tear it up. Guy was unstoppable, and Gage couldn’t keep a lid on his mushrooming dislike. Didn’t help that the few times Gage brought Lily around, Hunter looked her over like she was a juicy piece of prime rib.
While Gage managed to ignore criticism about his play in the press, he couldn’t ignore the guilt whenever he faced his team. Not that anyone said anything. They didn’t have to. His speeches about bringing their A-game replayed in his head constantly, ringing hollow. Playing better started at his doorstep. His club was counting on him, for fuck’s sake. But the harder he worked, the more his A-game plummeted into D-territory.
As he was turning over his crappy play on his way to practice, his phone rang, and a different kind of guilt clobbered him over the head.
“Hey, Mom. What’s going on?” he answered breezily.
“I’m calling to ask you the same thing, Gage. Where have you been? Why haven’t you called?”
Ah, shit. He folded inside. “Been busy, Mom. Playoffs are almost here and—”
“That’s never stopped you before.” Her voice carried a hint of hurt.
True, but he hadn’t had Lily before. Not that his mom knew she existed. Not that he was about to tell her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just—things got away from me. So how are you? How’s Grandma?”
A typical long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “About the same, except there was an incident—”
“What kind of incident?” Alarm bells clanged in his head.
“Grandma tried to jailbreak in nothing but a pajama top.” His mom actually laughed.
“What? I take it she’s okay?”
“She’s fine. I swear, if I didn’t laugh about this, I’d be crying instead.”
He puffed out a breath. “Yeah, I hear ya. I should call her.”
“May be better to wait until you see her next week.”
His attention had been wandering to his grandma but came slamming back. “Uh …”
“You’re still coming out, right? I’m getting everything ready.”
Shit! He’d put off telling her for so long that he’d completely forgotten.
“I, ah, I’ve got some bad news, Mom. There won’t be time this year. I have to stick around and put in extra time. My play’s been off lately, and, uh, the coaching staff wants me to work it out.” Another white lie.
Not giving up the ice castles with my girls.
“What? They can’t do that!” Indignation rattled the phone. “You work so hard, and you never get a break. That’s not right.” Guilt pinched him when he heard the disappointment in her voice.
“I do get breaks, but this time of year a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.” Hearing her sigh again made him wince. “I miss you guys, but I’ll have to wait until the season’s over. It’s only a few more months.”
Maybe less if we keep playing like shit.
Gage soon put the conversation—and his guilt—behind him and lost himself on the ice. A charged practice where Hunter and Grims nearly got into it after Grims fired a puck at Hunter’s chest. Hunter deserved every bit of crap coming his way, but even that move seemed over the top. Though Gage resented the hell out of Hunter’s surging play, the team needed the guy’s scoring streak to continue.
T.J. caught his eye and jerked his head toward the pair, and he and Gage exchanged a look. Yeah, chemistry on the team had taken a nosedive. When a club was playing well, winning games, things worked a lot more smoothly. Instead of a well-oiled machine, they were a boiling pot of chunky stew.
Gage carried the blame on his shoulders.
But if Gage was spiraling downward in his play, his captain was doing the same in the locker room. Keyed-up and half-cocked, Grims’s messages to his teammates had devolved into barking and snapping. Gage had heard rumors Grims and Nicole were having problems. Figuring it was none of his damn business, he kept his mouth shut and shouldered more of the leadership role, diffusing the growing unrest in the locker room, but it wasn’t enough. The wheels were coming off the team’s bus, and it showed in their slide in the standings with a three-game winless streak. Only Hunter and Quinn seemed to be racking up points.
“We need to talk to Grims,” T.J. said after practice. They sat in the locker room, where only a few guys milled around out of earshot.
Gage yanked at his skate laces hard, breaking one. “Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “Let me do it.”
T.J.’s eyebrows flew to his forehead. “Alone?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” Gage chuffed. “You two going at it is a volatile mix this locker room doesn’t need.”
“Who says we’ll go at it?”
“He’s become a hothead, and you’re already a hothead. ’Nuff said.”
T.J. regarded him a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Let me know if you need my help.”
“Don’t worry,” Gage chuckled. “You’ll be the first person I call for backup.”
“Want me to stick around?”
“Nope. I got this.”
Gage showered, dressed, and was loading up his bag, waiting on Grims to finish up in Coach’s office. The locker room was practically deserted.
As he was practicing what to say and how to say it in his head, the main door opened. Gage looked up. One of the trainers, a young guy named Bobby, was scanning the room with wide eyes.
Gage gave him a chin jerk. “’Sup, Bobby?”
“Uh, Hunter here?”
The guy was
