Overtime by Unknown Page A

introduced her as Hunter’s sister, Madison. She also half-stood whenever one of the Storm’s forwards -- fucking Bennett Halley, he’d scored on Isaac three times in that early-season game against the Storm last season -- got the puck.

    “Ugh, dating someone and being related to someone else on the same team is too stressful,” said Madison. She jabbed Ethan with her elbow. “I’m glad you’re not on the ice or I’d have to be worried about you, too.”

    “Nah,” said Kennedy, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a hug.  “I only ever got in fights and I always won.”

    Hux, who was sitting on Isaac’s other side, leaned over. “The hell you did, Kennedy.”

    Kennedy grinned at him. “Hey, come on, it’s a rule that retired guys get to say they won all their fights.”

    “That so?” asked Hux, sounding dubious. “Who’d you hear that from?”

    “Jared Shore.” Ethan held his fist out and said solemnly, “But you did hit really fucking hard, man.”

    “Yeah?” Hux smiled, trapping Isaac between the two of them as he leaned closer to fistbump Ethan. “Thanks.”

    The Ravens sat silent on the bench, looking for all the world like they were awaiting a trundle cart to take them to be executed. They played with a sick sort of desperation that almost made Isaac feel sorry for them, except he could tell they were doing their level best to piss the Storm off by trash-talking their players on the ice. As usual, the Ravens played a dirty game, and were called more than once for embellishment (referred to by everyone but the refs as “diving”) and unsportsmanlike conduct. Isaac could see Xavier’s frustration clear as day, and a few times Xavier even hit his stick on the ice.

    Isaac had no idea why the hell Xavier didn’t ask for a trade. He was a good player, and his family was from Asheville but Isaac knew they were super religious and a main reason why Xavier was in the closet. Why the hell didn’t he try to get his fine ass out of here and find a better team? Maybe he’d get traded to the Spitfires during the off-season. That’d be cool.

    As the game progressed, Isaac found his attention focused almost exclusively on the Ravens’ goalie, Laurent St. Savoy. He was the son of the Ravens’ horrible coach, and during the playoffs last year he’d refused to fight Isaac, pushed him down and then spit on him and called him a fag. It was a goddamn tragedy that the guy was such a worthless human being, because he was a talented goalie...who would have been seriously hot if he wasn’t such a fucking jerk.

    The Storm won the game easily -- almost too easily, Isaac thought, frowning as St. Savoy let in a couple of soft goals that gave the Storm a comfortable two-goal lead. He knew enough about St. Savoy, Jr.’s goaltending to know he was better than the performance he was turning in on the ice. Isaac imagined St. Savoy, Sr. wasn’t going to be very happy with his son after the game.

    When the Ravens had won their series against the Spitfires, they’d ignored the traditional postgame handshake line like the team of assholes they were. Unsurprisingly, they pulled the same shit with the Storm when the game was over, skating toward the tunnel without even acknowledging their fans.

    Laurent St. Savoy was the last one off the ice, and as he passed Isaac he turned his head slightly so their eyes met. It only lasted for a second, and as Isaac stood there and watched Laurent skate away, he wondered why he wasn’t happier to see him fail.

    * * *

    By the time Isaac returned to Spartanburg the next day, he was tired, hung-over and cranky and wanted nothing more in the world than to fall asleep in his own bed and forget about that hollow-eyed stare Laurent had given him on his way off the ice. After Hux dropped him off at Misha’s, Isaac went directly to his room, tossed his smudged sunglasses on his dresser and fell into bed without even taking his shoes off.

    He woke up