Daniel put a little more force into his next shot, and the puck sailed over Spacek’s left shoulder. For a second, he had a flashback of Army blocking that exact shot and cockily throwing the puck to the ice. Daniel smiled to himself and circled around to collect another puck and join the line to try again. He’d bled green and gold for the Venom, and he’d bleed blue and white for the Thunder. Daniel didn’t do things by halves, and he wouldn’t start now, tension with his teammates or not. He was determined to get this season off to a good start.
* * *
Barely one period later, Daniel wasn’t feeling so positive anymore. The Condors had already put five goals on the board, and if morale had been low at the start of the game, it was now buried somewhere beneath the ice. Maybe even under the building itself.
Demetrius had been scowling since goal number four, and the expression only intensified when he scored and the play immediately got put under an offside review.
Daniel grabbed his water bottle and took a few deep swallows, lingering by the bench while the referees conferred. Cedric sat to his left, his deep blue eyes cast downward, an already familiar glare twisting his handsome features. If he’d been a player on the Venom, Daniel would’ve said something, offered comfort or encouragement, maybe even just a quick shoulder squeeze or a stick slap to Cedric’s pads when he came over the boards onto the ice. But he didn’t think Cedric would appreciate or welcome any of those gestures from him. Daniel looked around instead, scanning the row of seats directly behind the bench. He skimmed past a guy with fiery red hair and caught a hand lifting in a shy wave out of the corner of his eye. Something about the guy drew Daniel’s gaze back, and he stared at a face that seemed oddly familiar.
The guy lifted a hand and waved again, his smile sheepish and his freckled cheeks flushing pink. Beneath his chunky brown cardigan and the blue-and-white scarf draped artfully around his neck, Daniel caught a glimpse of a T-shirt with the Thunder’s logo—a lightning bolt emerging from a dark, puffy cloud—on the front.
Daniel’s eyes returned to the guy’s face.
Wait a minute... Holy shit.
Daniel knew that smile and those freckles and the floppy red bangs that fell over hazel eyes. As a kid, that blazingly bright hair had always reminded him of the flames in the firepit his family had kept in their backyard. He’d only seen his childhood friend, Micah, a couple of times in the twenty years since his parents had moved him to Chicago to play junior hockey, but aside from filling out and gaining some laugh lines at the corners of the eyes and a bit more definition around the jaw, that face hadn’t changed very much, even after all this time. You never forgot your first crush or first kiss. Especially if you’d known that person since kindergarten.
Raising his arm, Daniel mouthed “hey,” but before he could do much else, he heard the referee announcing, “After reviewing the play, the call on the ice stands. We have a good goal!”
There was some cheering from his bench, and suddenly Demetrius’s scowl disappeared as he offered smiles and fist bumps to everyone nearby.
The score was now 5–1. Well...better than zero.
Daniel shot one more look in Micah’s direction and held up a finger, the universal “hold on a second” signal.
Micah nodded, and a couple of the Thunder looked over their shoulders, curious as to who’d captured Daniel’s attention. Micah’s cheeks reddened even more when he noticed the staring, and Daniel laughed to himself as he went to take his position in the face-off circle.
Micah friggin’ Kelly. Who would’ve thought? Sometimes it amazed Daniel how very small the world could be.
Chapter Six
There were a few things that Micah noticed about his first game as a newly minted Miami Thunder fan.
One, while the arena was mostly full, the majority of the fans seemed to be from the other team—the Pittsburgh Condors—and two, the Miami Thunder were not very good at hockey. They were down five goals to nothing so fast, it didn’t take an expert in the sport to know that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Three, Daniel Bellamy was every bit as gorgeous in person as he was on his Instagram and a lot better at hockey than some of his teammates. Okay, maybe Micah didn’t have the hockey expertise to know the latter, but the former...he liked to think he was pretty well versed in speaking “attractive person” and yeah, Daniel was beautiful. On the ice he was fast and focused, and while Micah couldn’t say his old friend looked like he was having fun...he was at least giving the game his all.
But the best part? Daniel had recognized him. Even in the middle of a game that was admittedly not going well, Daniel knew who he was. Or else he was doing a good job pretending, but Micah was sure that wasn’t it. There was no way to miss the spark of recognition or the smile that lit up that handsome face, and also, Danny had always sucked at lying when they were kids.
Micah still couldn’t believe he’d waved at Daniel, given the moment was tense and Daniel looked less than thrilled while the referees...did something—Micah didn’t know hockey enough to really get what was happening there. But Daniel had looked right at him, and Micah had been impulsive enough to wave and had gotten that killer smile in return. Which was honestly what made him stand up and cheer with the rest of the crowd, when the referees finished their mysterious conference and announced the Thunder’s goal would count. For reasons.
Micah tossed the scarf over his neck, got to his feet, and clapped along with the other Thunder fans in his section. He’d thought there’d be more, but he was in fact surrounded by Condors fans.
“Glass seats here are so cheap,” the woman to his left had said, almost apologetically, when Micah had taken his seat wearing his Thunder gear. “I could never afford to sit this close at home.”
The seats were cheap, and Cody hadn’t been able to make it after all so Micah was here on his lonesome. Which was fine, since even a non-fan knew when your team was suffering a beating and it wasn’t like he was all that invested in the outcome. It’d be nice to win, but at least the Condors fans were enjoying themselves. Micah was pretty sure he didn’t have the makings of a true sports fanatic, but hey, he could outreach with the best of them. By the time the game had started, he’d talked the woman from Pittsburgh and her girlfriend into visiting the aquarium the next day, texting their names to the box office so they’d enjoy a discount on tickets. They’d liked his story about working with dolphins, and during breaks in the action—or inaction, for the beleaguered Thunder fans—he showed them the #selfiewithsilver hashtag and they’d both promptly followed it.
“Do you know him?” the girl, Jennifer, asked with wide eyes. She’d seen Daniel’s wave from the bench.
“Well, kinda,” Micah said with a laugh, as play resumed. “Danny and I were besties when we were kids. That’s why I’m here. I heard he was back in town and wanted to see him play, but I never dreamed he’d remember me.” Hoped, maybe. Definitely.