Page 35 of Stick By Me
LEO
Friday night, I was sitting behind the bench at Mullett arena with Remy, watching the game. Almost at the end of the second period, it was tied, one to one. Archer had been on the ice a lot tonight and had even won a faceoff in his zone, which must have given him some satisfaction.
I watched Denver’s forwards racing with the puck toward center ice and then our goal, tossing the puck back and forth with ease.
Out of nowhere, Archer scrambled across the ice, stick out, and checked the Denver forward against the boards, then grabbed the puck and swiveled, taking a few short skates before pushing it at Mason. “Fuck, Archer got it back. Did you see that?” I inched forward in my seat, spine straightening.
Remy peered at me. “Yeah, there’s your boy.” He sipped his beer, keeping his focus on me.
“Look at him.” My heart raced and I puffed my chest out. He was playing better than I’d ever seen him. He was attacking the puck tonight and keeping it away from Ace.
As a few players scrabbled for the puck in Denver’s defensive zone, close to the boards, Archer elbowed a Denver player out of his way.
The player yelled, then rammed Archer into the board.
A loud crack was heard as Archer fell to the ice, his helmet bouncing on impact.
The Denver player,Bergmanscrolled across his jersey, smacked Archer on the knee with his stick.
A whistle blew and play stopped.
I jumped up from my seat, heat swarming my chest. “That fucker! Did you see that?” It was deliberate. Was Archer okay?
Archer lay on the ice, then rolled to his back and held his knee.
A few team members, including Mason and a ref, crowded around Archer.
“Someone get out there and make sure he’s okay. Fuck.” I shifted my stance. I’d find a way out there myself if?—
“Dude, he’s wearing a knee pad. He’ll be fine.” Remy grabbed my sweater and pulled on it.
“But what if…what if he’s hurt anyways?” Was I watching Archer’s last game of the season? Did that asshole break his kneecap?
“Relax. I’m sure he’s fine.” Remy tugged harder on the hem of my sweater.
“I can’t relax.” I held my arm out, then let it drop. There was nothing I could do. Jesus, I wanted to get out there and make sure he was okay. I glared at Bergman, skating big round loops on the ice with his teammates like he didn’t just try to end Archer’s season. First, I’d make sure Archer was okay, then I’d kill that fucker.
Remy stood up. “Leo, you look murderous right now, damn.”
“I am.” I clenched my jaw and fisted my hands.
Mason helped Archer to stand, and Archer held up his gloved hand, bouncing a bit on his knees as if testing them.
The crowed cheered and I screamed, “You show that fucker!” I pumped my fist in the air.
“Leo, Jesus.” Remy snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might have a thing for Archer.”
“Uh…what?” I stared blankly at Remy. I’d been pretty obvious. Damn it. “W-well he’s a friend and um…”
“I’ve known you since we were babies. I have never, ever, seen you get that worked up over a game.” He picked up my beer from the holder in the seat in front of us. “Here, drink your beer. Maybe it’ll settle you down.” He quirked the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah.” I took a few gulps of beer. Did I blow it? Did Remy suspect something now?
The refs skated to each other and chatted for a moment, then called a penalty on Bergman, sending him to the box.
Hanging his head, Bergman shook his stick and skated off the ice.
“Serves the fucker right.” I sat in my seat, my gaze finding Archer, who skated to his own bench and took a seat, where the medical personnel checked him out.
