Page 1 of Icebound Hearts
Chapter 1
Sawyer
Ice swishes under my skates and Coach Dunaway’s calls ring in my ears as I barrel around the outer edge of the rink. It’s not often anymore that I feel this alive, this free, but there’s something about being out on the ice that lets me forget everything else. That lets me be something more than just a single father.
After a few laps around the rink to warm up, I line up on the blue line in front of Grant, our goalie, and prepare to help him intercept as many plays from the other guys as possible. Some people think the defense position is boring, but it’s my favorite place on the ice. Other than Grant, I’m the last guy standing between the opposition and the net, and nothing feels better than intercepting a big play and turning things around for the whole team.
I don’t need the glory that comes with scoring goals and being the face of the team that all the fans love. The other guys thrive on that kind of attention—not that there’s anything wrong with it—but it’s not for me.
Reese, our left wing and alternate captain, is first in line to try his luck against me. He lowers his head with a determined look, but he has to know I’m not going to make it easy on him.
“Go!” Dunaway shouts from the box.
Reese springs into action, his stick swishing back and forth in front of him as he hurtles toward me. He’s heading right, so I follow him loosely. He attempts to juke left around me at the last second, but I’m paying attention and it’s a predictable move, so I move with him.
Frustrated, he stops abruptly and spins around, giving himself an opening. I try to rush in front of him, but I’m not fast enough. The puck claps against his stick and soars toward Grant, who thankfully catches it lazily like it was no challenge at all.
“Good footwork, Sutton!” Dunaway calls to Reese, who flashes me a smile and retreats back to the end of the line. Dunaway’s eyes meet mine. “Stay on your toes, Townsend!”
“Yes, Coach,” I mumble as I get back into position. Reese played me, but I’m not going to let the other guys get one over on me too. Unfortunately though, Theo is up next. And if his recent winning-streak performance is any indication, stopping him won’t be easy.
“You ready for me?” Theo asks with a smirk.
“Bring it!”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He flashes a cocky grin as he gets ready to pound down the ice.
After a few seconds, Dunaway blows his whistle, a sharp, piercing shriek, and before I even realize what’s happening, Theo’s already closed half the distance between us. He’s almost superhuman, and I don’t blame the rest of the teams in the league for being afraid of him.
I stay rooted in place, waiting for him to make his move. It’s subtle, but I know his tells, so when he leans left, I lurch in the opposite direction and he almost crashes into me when he tries to feint. He dances away without colliding with me, but I manage to poke the puck away from him and send it skipping acrossthe ice back toward Noah, our team captain and center, who’s beaming at me.
“Now that’s some defense!” he calls, and Dunaway nods in agreement.
“Well done, Townsend!” Dunaway blows his whistle again, signaling the end of practice, and I skate off the ice with the rest of the guys with a shit-eating grin I can’t take off my face. Theo skates up behind me and drapes an arm around my shoulders.
“Good job, man. Guess I need to up my game.”
“If you keep upping your game, we’re all gonna be out of a job,” I joke back, and Theo chuckles at me.
“Alright, enough with the platitudes. You’re gonna make his head swell so big it won’t fit in his helmet anymore,” Noah says, and although Theo laughs at him, he punches Noah in the arm.
“Don’t hate me ’cause you ain’t me.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s what he hates about you,” Grant chimes in, and Noah lets out a low whistle, his brows raised.
“Damn, Grant coming in with the fire,” he says through a laugh, and our resident grumpy goalie smirks at him. Grant smiling at all only happens once in a blue moon, much less bantering with the rest of us. He’s always been a quiet, gruff sort of guy—even more serious than I am, which is saying something—and although I’ve never fully understood why, I love him like a brother anyway. Besides, a serious-as-stone man is exactly the type we need for a goalie.
“How about that juke, huh?” Reese nudges me when I sit down next to him on the bench in the locker room to tear off my skates and gear.
“Yeah, yeah. You got lucky, that’s all.”
“Is it luck or skill?”
“As if any of us could tell the difference when it comes to you,” Theo answers, and the whole locker room erupts at the burn.
I don’t know what it is, but my teammates are all in a mood today. I don’t mind though. I’m actually having fun with them. Ever since the Cup playoffs, it seems like we’ve all been playing and getting along better than ever.
“Hey, Reese, do you need me to bring you some aloe when I stop by later?” I ask, and Reese glares at me.