Clipped by Love
Page 59

Today is the day I get captain.
No, if, ands, or buts about it! It’s mine.
When he skates up beside me, he’s closer than normal, and I try to step to my right. But McCarthy is there, so I stay where I am. I’d rather deal with the heat Jayden causes then the ice-cold chills McCarthy causes. He is trouble. And not the good kind.
“Hey.”
Not looking at Jayden, I say, “Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Fine.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Just fine,” I say sharply.
I can feel his gaze on me, but I ignore it. I can’t let him know that he is making me feel shit. Stupid little rainbow feelings that I shouldn’t be feeling.
Dumb boy.
“Aw, are you doing that thing where you act like I don’t exist?”
I am, but I won’t tell him that because then he’ll know he is getting to me.
I shrug. “I’m focused. Got to get my position today.”
He scoffs, which only makes me glare. “You’re something, man. The least you can do is say thank you or that you’re sorry for puking on me.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I ignore him as my dad starts to talk.
“I’ve pushed and stressed how important endurance is. We’ve run, we’ve done drills, and I think everyone has puked but Sinclair.”
“Iron stomach,” he says, and Dad grins while everyone chuckles, but I glare more.
I’ve thrown up twice during damn camp.
“That being said, today is the ultimate test,” Coach says before dropping the stool he’s holding and laying down his iPad. “We will skate until you can’t skate anymore. When I was in Game Three of the Cup finals, we went to four overtimes. That’s one hundred and forty minutes of play. I puked God knows how many times in a trainer’s hands and all behind the bench. I was dead, I was done for, but I went out every shift and I worked my ass off, and I scored the game-winning goal that game. Which was the start of our comeback.”
He pauses and lets that sink in. My whole life when I feel like I’m gonna fail or that I am done for, I always think of that story. My dad is pretty inspirational, and if he can do it, I can.
“Drive. Persistence. Determination. Tenacity. Those are just some of the things you need to win, but most of all, you need endurance. You can’t gas out after five minutes, and if you do, you’re done here,” he says in a strong and steady voice. “I have to cut some of you, and I have to pick our captains. Show me you deserve the spot you want, and if you are the first eight off my ice, go straight to the locker room and leave. You’re done.”
Everyone looks around, and I can see the fear in some of their eyes. I have a pretty good feeling which eight are out, but you never know. They could have more drive than someone else and last. We will see.
“Except for my goalies, the ninth one off is the third string and so on. Show me you want it, boys and Moore. Otherwise, stop wasting my time. I hope you boys ate your Wheaties because it’s time.”
He then blows the whistle and swings his arm around in a circle, which means laps. Everyone drops their gloves but me.
“Oh, no, pick your shit up. You skate with it.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I turn and head for the boards but Jayden stops me. “Good luck.”
I hold his gaze and then nod. “You too.”
I expect a snide comment, but there isn’t one. He just grins at me before turning to start and then we are off.
I actually love skating. It gives me time to think, but unfortunately I’m thinking of Jayden. I love the way he skates. It’s almost like he is flying across the ice, the way his legs move in and out, the way his arms glide with each movement he makes. He has the perfect form. He is gonna be hard to beat.
But I’ll do it.
When the first hour is over, no one has gassed out yet. We all are keeping a good pace, almost in a group as we skate. I want to pull ahead, but for once I’m happy with where I am.
“Not queasy are ya, Moore?” Markus calls out, and a few guys laugh.
“Nope, I’m good. You’ll be the queasy one soon,” I tease, and he laughs.
“Want to wager on that one?”
“Sure,” I say when he looks back at me. “When I win, you have to make my bed for me each morning.”
He laughs and so does everyone else. “And fold my clothes,” I add, which gets a roar of laughter.
“No way, Reeves. That’s woman’s work,” McCarthy says, and I roll my eyes. “And if you’re making her bed, make sure you’re fucking her in it. Or you’re a pussy.”
“Fuck off, McCarthy,” Markus says then, before I can.
“Don’t worry, she won’t make it anyway. She’ll be out of our hair soon enough,” he says. Dumb asshole. I really don’t understand his hatred toward me, but when I turn to tell him something very colorful, he’s lying on the ice.
“What the fuck, Sinclair?” he yells as he gets up, and Jayden just shrugs.
“Sorry, my stick got tangled between your legs when I was looking to chop off your balls,” he says simply as he skates ahead of us all.
“For someone who isn’t trying to hit that, you sure are always taking me out when I fuck with her,” he says, and Jayden shrugs.
“You’re always in the way,” he says, and then he is skating with Jace beside him. Markus stays with me, and while I don’t need him to, it’s nice to have the company. It keeps me from thinking of Jayden the whole time because Markus sure does like to talk. Within seven laps, I know his whole life story.
“My mom and dad own a down-home restaurant; we should go there tonight,” he says after the third hour. We’ve already lost the first eight, and I would think the guys would be happy, but they clapped and wished the guys well. The more time I spend with these guys, the more I realize what Jayden meant when he said this was a family.
“Yeah, if we can walk,” I say, and he laughs as he nods.
“Right, man, I’m hurting.”
“I bet, but don’t give up,” I say, pulling in a breath through my nose.
“I’m not. I’m with ya, babe,” he says, and usually I’d correct him, but I can tell that Markus wants nothing more than friendship from me.
When the fourth hour starts, more people start to fade away. When McCarthy limps off the ice and pukes all over the bench, I want to laugh—he deserves it—but I’m doing everything to swallow my own puke down. Poor Markus puked on the ice but kept going. Jace and Jayden, though, are skating like they can do this for days. Me, I’m not sure. My legs are Jell-O, I’m hurting, and I’m ready to quit, but I have to stay on longer than them. I have to.