Spiral (Off the Ice Book 2)
Spiral: Chapter 26

WE’RE ONE GAME away from the playoffs, which means I’m one bad game away from being traded. The constant reminder at practice has been causing the kind of stress that leads to my recurring nightmares. Each time I’ve jolted awake, Sage has been there, holding my hand and reminding me it’s just a dream. She eases the constant feeling that if I go to sleep, I’ll wake to someone’s disappointment.

Since I told her about my biological dad, I feel lighter. There’s something new in our interactions, like we both feel more at ease. The line between us should be cemented, but the moments we share in the darkness of my room only make me want to step over it. We don’t talk about the nights, but the memory is alive in the way my gaze latches on to her when she’s near.

I’ve never been more tempted to break this vow. But despite wanting to touch Sage the way I’ve dreamed of, I know it’ll just complicate our relationship. The only thing helping me separate my feelings from our fake relationship is my celibacy. It’s been difficult for me to trust anyone since what my biological dad did, and trusting Sage enough to break my celibacy only for her to leave would make it harder for both of us. The last thing I want for Sage is to throw my feelings at her when she hasn’t even gotten a chance to live out her dream. I would never hold her back. I can’t.

For our pregame warm-up, Coach went easy on us and set us up in the weight room for calisthenics. I’d much rather have been on the ice, practicing before the game to ensure I can rid myself of this goalless curse. Some days, I think it’ll never end, but then I provide an assist, and it feels a step closer to the real thing. Now, back in the locker room, I feel myself crawling back into those negative thoughts.

“It’s called choking.”

I pause taping my hockey stick to find Socket standing in front of me. “What?”

“The thing that happens to you at the goal line. I see it in rookies all the time. They come right up to my face, so determined, ready to bag a goal, and then they freeze. I can see the doubt creeping in. And poof, the opportunity slips from right under their nose.”

“I know what choking is,” I mutter.

“Of course you do. I just mean you don’t have to be stuck there. But you’re letting yourself sit in that box of doubt, and no one can play hockey like that.”

Socket’s been a goalie on the Thunder for a few years, so he has experience.

“How do you suggest I get out of the box?”

“Break it. That moment of doubt needs to be shattered. You know you can do it, and now you have to. Don’t think, and you won’t choke.”

Don’t think. I mull over the advice in my head, mumbling a thank‑you when he turns to his stall. His words are wise for someone who drank beer out of a skate because of a dare.

I let my music resume, but there’s a shift in the air that makes me look to the doors of the locker room. Marcus and our right-winger, Owen Hart, walk inside. They’re laughing together, something I’ve never done with our GM.

“Afternoon,” Marcus says, waving a hand. “Since it’s the last game of the regular season, I won’t say much. I’ll save the speech for the playoffs next week, which for some of you might be a faraway dream.” I try to ignore the way he meets my eyes. “But it’s here, and if you kill it out there tonight, the rest will be a breeze.”

His cutting words don’t fester deep today because I played well at our last game. Even if I haven’t scored, the executives had to notice my improvement. This can’t be it for me.

Coach walks into the dressing room. “Don’t embarrass me out there. But after these past few games, I’ve seen what you can do. And I need all your RSVPs for the dinner, or the wife won’t be happy if we have leftovers.”

He shouts the reminder again to the guys that trickle in late.

Coach decided last night that he wants to boost team morale because two of our defensemen got into a heated argument on the ice during our last game. Their gloves came off, and they spit out their mouth guards before we broke them apart. The media blamed our organization for promoting poor sportsmanship. Now, the executives have hammered down on Coach Wilson to ease the tension.

When the music in my ears pauses, I check my phone to find a text from Sage.

Sage: A jersey with your name on it? A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?

I can’t help the smile her words bring to my face. Our team manager got me a jersey in her size, and I left it on the bed this morning. This is the first game she’s attending, and as my girlfriend, she’ll be expected to wear my jersey. But that’s not the only reason I want her to wear it.

Elias: Were you planning on wearing someone else’s?

Sage: What if I did?

Elias: Wear it and find out.

Sage: Don’t tease me, Elias. Do you really want me to wear it? Isn’t that cheesy? You already have plenty of fangirls.

Elias: You’re the only one that matters.

“Isn’t it awkward?” Socket’s voice pulls my attention away from the appearing and disappearing bubbles on my screen. When they stop and Sage doesn’t reply, I toss my phone back on the bench.

I pull out an earphone. “What?”

“Owen being here?”

“Why would it? I’ve met plenty of guys I’ve matched up against in the past.”

“No, I mean because he dated your girlfriend.”

My head snaps to attention. “What?”

A burning sensation sears through my veins.

“Uh, never mind.” Socket turns to focus on the pull-up bar like it’s a complex machine.

“What do you mean they dated?”

“If Sage didn’t say anything I’m sure it’s for a good reason. She probably doesn’t even know he got traded here,” he deflects.

I’m trying to think back to whether she told me this, but the only thing she said was that a boyfriend had reappeared in her life. Suddenly, it’s starting to make sense.

“When did they date?”

He sighs. “He said they dated for a few years. I think they broke up a couple months ago. But that’s all I know.” He raises both hands in surrender.

The information doesn’t ease the burn in my chest. I want to call or text Sage to find out more. But if she wanted to tell me about her ex, she would—the girl’s an open book.

Owen continues talking to Marcus before he walks to his stall a few benches down. The pat on the back and the smile he got from Marcus make me envious. I’ve been here for longer and haven’t gotten a simple hello in return, but Sage’s ex seems to be our GM’s best friend.

“Westbrook,” Owen acknowledges when he walks by.

Now, this interaction feels tense. “Hart.”

“I have a good feeling about today’s game,” Aiden says, finally showing up after spending the night at Summer’s parents’ house.

“Why?”

“It’s your girl’s first game. No better motivator.”

I roll my eyes and toss the cloth tape at him.

“Is Sean coming? That kid used to hang around here all the time when I first started,” says Socket as he ties his skates.

“No, he’s in school a few hours away.”

“York Prep, right?”

Our heads whip to Owen, who smiles innocently. The question starts a dangerous bubbling in my veins. Aiden glances at me with a look of confusion.

“My brother’s in the same year as Sean.”

It’s impossible for me to not glare at him.

Socket’s laugh cuts the tension. “Man, I would have never survived at a boarding school. They would have kicked me out as soon as I started playing hockey in the halls.”

His comment gets a laugh from a few of the guys around us and starts a conversation about reckless things they’ve done in school.

Suddenly, even as the conversation moves on, I can’t sit here any longer. That feeling propels me to walk through the double doors, ignoring Aiden’s call for me, and straight down to where Marcus is retreating into his office.

“Marcus, do you have a second?”

He folds his arms and exhales loudly, but he nods, and I follow him to his office. I might be making things worse, but I need to make an effort to cement my position here.

“Wanted to see me for a final farewell?” Marcus says.

I ignore the pointed jab. “I came here to assure you that I won’t let this opportunity slip away easily. I know tonight’s the final day before the organization’s decision about me, but I won’t give you the chance to sign those trade papers.”

If looks could kill, no one would survive the one he’s giving me.

“And how are you going to do that? Because you haven’t been stepping up to where we need you. You’re a good player, we can see that, but if that doesn’t translate to goals, we have no use for you. Assists are great until there isn’t anyone to assist.”

“But I’m—”

“And whatever damage control you’re trying to do with my niece won’t help your case.” His glare turns lethal. “I trust Sage to make her own decision, but if your reputation interferes with her life, I won’t stand for it. You hurt her, and I’ll make sure your career never recovers.”

The threat should make me cower, but I can’t help but feel relieved that even though Sage doesn’t think so, she has people who have her back. Me included.

“I’d never let my public image affect her. She’s with me because we care about each other, and she knows I’d do anything for her. It’s the reason she’s staying with me.”

“Staying with you?”

Fuck. From his deadly glare, I’m assuming Sage didn’t tell him she’s living with me. First Owen, now this. The girl couldn’t make it any clearer how temporary I am in her life.

He scoffs. “So, in the midst of your career dangling by a thread, you think you can focus on a relationship? You can barely focus on your game. This isn’t the NCAA, where you can get away with your parents signing a check.”

His constant reminders of my family’s wealth, dissolving my skill into a mere favor, tighten my fist. I have to clench my jaw to keep from saying something that might get me kicked out before I can even play the last game I have to prove myself.

“I don’t think you have what it takes to be great, Eli.” Then he goes in for the kill. “And frankly, I don’t think you’re good enough for Sage either.”