Jase (36 page)

“Jase.” Slate’s mouth hung open and he snorted a laugh. “Man, please. It’s a mini-van. I’m a motherfucking biker.
President
of the Fort Wayne chapter of the Rebel fucking Wayfarers. I cannot be seen in a mini-van. Ain’t happening. I appreciate the gesture and everything, but a mini-van? Dude, what were you thinking?”

Jase leaned close, stage whispering, “Don’t ‘dude’ me. It’s not a mini-van; it’s an SUV. Now, just listen, because here’s the most important part. Slate, the backseats fold down into a bed.”

Immediately, Slate said, “And a fine SUV it is, too. I’ll be right proud to be seen driving this lovely
fuck-mobile
. Thank you, brother.” Slate threw back his head and laughed loudly, his attitude of ease belying the tension Jase sensed from the men standing nearby. “Help me get my woman and babies home, would
ya
? Babies, as in two of them. Hey,
didja
hear about my swimmers?”

“
Dammit, get back in it,” Jase shouted to his line. “Help him, dammit. Push. Push.” Lee had fluffed a give-and-go pass, and a Kalamazoo player was trying to capitalize on the mistake. There were only four minutes until the final buzzer, and they were ahead one to nothing. Skating backwards, he swept his stick back and forth over the ice, creating an obstacle screen against the opposing forward barreling up the sheet towards him.
As long as he kept this guy from… Jase read the player’s movements and reached forward, stripping the puck from him with a smooth poke check, redirecting the puck towards Lee.

Racing down ice alongside Lee, he broke off to skate into position and whirled in time to deflect a rebound off a defenseman’s skate. He heard a blade insistently tapping the ice behind him and slapped the puck back to Lee who took a shot, angling the puck over the goalie’s shoulder and into the net for a goal. Arms up, Jase watched Lee take a sliding knee in celebration, coming up to be surrounded by their teammates, slapping each other’s helmets in excitement.

Headed back to the bench, Jase heard one of the players begin to say something about the game being a shutout and he yelled at him, slapping the back of his helmet. “Don’t jinx us. Don’t you fucking
jinx
us,” he said with a scowl, hearing agreement from several other players. “Doncha know it’s
a jinx
to talk about what you almost talked about? So don’t say anything about that thing you almost talked about until after the buzzer sounds, eh? Long as our man’s between the
posts,
we don’t
speak
about that.” The kid looked at him with wide eyes, nodding.

Sitting, Jase watched while the faceoff played out, then as the
third-line
players put up a successful defense against a rush and breakaway. He stepped back onto the ice for the shift change, digging in and transitioning into full speed skating as quickly as he could drive his tired legs. Skating around the opponent’s net, he only halfway paid attention to the obnoxious level of chirping and taunting that Kalamazoo’s
Biannac
was maintaining. His focus was on the puck, slapped down ice and away, so it took him by surprise when the Tridents’ play fell apart. He registered the sound of a soft grunt from behind him and saw players yelling and skating towards him, the
sound
level in the arena rising in a swell.

Spinning around, he saw a clearly unconscious Lee dangling from Biannac’s hand. As if in slow motion, he saw the man’s other fist pulling back, ready to land another giant blow, the linesmen circling like black and white pigeons tentatively looking for a place to land.
Launching himself at the man, Jase hit him hard, knocking Lee from his grip. Inertia was in his favor, and the momentum knocked both
Biannac
and himself away from where Lee was awkwardly sprawled on the ice. From his prone position, he watched the skates of his teammates glinting in the lights, saw the blades rising and lowering around him as he scrambled on hands and knees towards Lee.

Hunched on his knees over Lee’s helmetless head, Jase took a blow across his back, then another. Twisting around, he saw
Biannac
had picked up a stick and was swinging it wildly, first connecting with Lee’s lower body, and then coming down hard on Jase’s shoulder. “Goddammit,” Jase shouted, “knock it the fuck off. Somebody
get
that motherfucker under control.”

Two of the Kalamazoo players hooked hands under
Biannac
’s arms, dragging him
backwards
toward the boards. With
an enormous
effort, he pulled away from them and turned, lunging towards the glass, hitting it several times with both fists. He was screaming wordlessly at a woman standing inches away, on the other side of the obstacle. Her head jerked back every time he pounded on the barrier, the expression on her face horrified. His teammates hooked him again, skating him towards their bench, this time with less resistance from the man.

Looking back down at Lee, he saw his friend was coming to, squinting up against the lights, blinking. He had a hell of a mouse under his eye already, but Jase was glad to see him becoming aware even before the team staff had reached the cluster of players surrounding them. Lee grimaced, struggled to sit up, and asked, “What the fuck happened?”

“Biannac happened,” Jase said as he stood, skating
backwards
to give the medical staff room. He turned to where the Kalamazoo team had retreated to their bench, noting with relief that the crazy man wasn’t anywhere to be seen. There was a pounding on the glass behind him and he twisted to see the woman that had drawn Biannac’s focus was now looking worriedly across at Lee, one fist still pressed against the glass. She was pretty but pale, her gaze darting back and forth between Lee and the staff on the ice beside him. Looking at her, everything clicked, and with a shock, he realized this had to be Biannac’s sister. Lee’s ‘one that got away’ was standing not five feet away from him, and from the look on her face, the woman hadn’t moved on either.

He got in her line of sight, drawing her eyes to him, and moving his mouth slowly, asked, “Are you
Mareena
Biannac?” She nodded and he grinned, calling in a singsong over his shoulder, “Hey, Lee, I think I found you a Ree.” The staff had begun helping Lee to his feet, and he turned so quickly he nearly tumbled out of their hands and back to the ice, asking with astonishment, “She came?” Looking at the stunned expression on his face, Jase laughed as he followed the group
off
the rink, watching the trainer assist Lee down the tunnel into the locker room.

***

Fuck
, he thought, looking around the locker room. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for the
standard
, rousing captain’s speech to the team after the win. Lee was at the local hospital getting a scan, and right now, it looked like he would be out for the rest of the season with a concussion, which left Jase a not-so-
co
-captain.
Daniel
, he thought,
I’ve seen Daniel do this enough times. Stand up and talk already.

He stood, drawing the gazes of the few players who weren’t already watching him. “Anybody get the number of that truck that hit Cap’n? Damn, that was Zamboni-sized, eh? Coach called; he said
Lee’ll
be headed home when the hospital turns him loose. Us lucky saps, however—we have another four away games this trip before we get to see the inside of our homes again, so maybe he’s the lucky motherfucker here, right?” This drew laughter as he intended, and he watched the men slowly begin to ease into their post-game rituals.

“We have an early practice skate tomorrow in Waukesha, so plan on getting plenty of bunk time tonight so we’re all fresh as can be.
Coach’ll have to change our lines a little with both Lee and McCormick on the injured list. Take note, because you motherfuckers better practice your short straw-drawing skills or you’ll wind up having to skate a shift with me.”
There was good-natured laughter from the players and he grinned.

“This was a good win tonight, boys. We left it all on the ice. Our fans are behind us, which helps. Didja see all the jerseys and colors in the arena tonight? Those people drove more than two hours to watch us play and we gave ‘em a hell of a show. Now, let’s keep it going, yeah? Good skating, good game, good team.” He knew it wasn’t as good as Daniel would have done, but it was passable. He took off his jersey, dropping it into the bottom of his gear bag, praying the equipment managers were going to have time to do laundry before tomorrow’s game.

“Let’s get rolling, guys.” He chivvied them along without looking. “I’m fucking hungry.”

His head came up when the first man slapped his shoulder on their way past and said with respect, “Cap’n.” His first thought was
denial,
because that was Daniel and Lee’s title, but he realized he was what these men now had. He was their Captain.

Wedged into the front seat of the bus later that evening, he video-called DeeDee to chat.
It wasn’t until she gasped through his earbuds that he remembered the half-dozen stitches in his eyebrow, gained not even courtesy of Biannac’s wild swings with that damn stick, but due to his own stupidity.
“Shhhh, baby. It looks worse than it is,” he smiled at her image on the phone, “and you look so good it should be illegal. God, baby.” His call had woken her, and he loved the way her hair was tousled, curling around her face in soft ringlets.

“Silly man,” she said with a sleepy grin. “We listened to the game,
me
and the twins.
Y’all
won; that’s great.” She yawned, covering her mouth with one slim hand. His view of her moved and changed then went away entirely, and he saw the lampshade for a moment before her face came back into view. She had stretched out on the bed, propping her phone on the pillow next to her. He groaned silently. This would be his view if he were home right now. Curling one hand underneath her cheek, she smiled at him. “Is Lee okay? When did the face thing happen?” She quickly had to get used to seeing bruises and stitches because of the physical side of the game,
and
fortunately, she was not easily thrown.

“Second frame, I got a little too friendly with the opposing goalie, slid into the post with my head.” He sighed. “How are my babies tonight? Is everything good?”

She smiled broadly. “Babies are better than good. They’re sleeping down the hall. Slate had some business for the club and Ruby decided to go with him, so I get to play GeeGee for two days. These babies are perfect.”

“God, I wish I was there,” he
said,
and was immediately sorry, because he watched as her sleepy-happy face became sleepy-sad.

“Me too, Jase. I miss you when you aren’t here.” Her hand reached beyond the frame of the video and he heard a gentle patting sound. “Wish you were right here beside me, within reach.” She sighed, “Or wrapped around me.” Giving a slow, sleepy blink, she said, “I miss you holding me.”

He looked around. Coach would be renting a car and coming later, and most of the team was sleeping, so no one was listening in on his conversation. It was time to ask. “Baby,” he said slowly, “I’ve been thinking about that thing Mason wants, him offering me a job in Fort Wayne. I have three more semesters before I’m done with my degree, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t matter. I know you told me to think about it, but how would you feel about me being there all the time?”

The video jerked and moved, then the call disconnected. It
sometimes happened,
so he stared at the screen, waiting for her to call him back as she normally did. After a couple of minutes of waiting, he hit redial and got a message she wasn’t available, then got a text that said,
Sec baby
.
What the hell
? he thought.
Is she upset over the possibility of a closer connection between me and the club?

He waited impatiently, and when she finally called him back, he answered before the first ring completed sounding. “Why did you do that? Why did you hang up?” He was halfway to being pissed and knew his tone showed it.

“I didn’t hang up, doofus; my ass did. You startled me and I sat
up, and then
the phone slid under my ass and we got disconnected. And then I had to pee.” She laughed and smiled. “If it
were
just a call, I would have risked sitting on the can and talking to you, but not on video.”

“Ah,” he said, watching her face intently. “Okay, you’re forgiven, but are you gonna answer my question?”

“Not yet.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking, then said, “The
questions I had about the job
are still valid. First, are you sure that’s the job Mason is offering? We need to know exactly what it would entail before you can tell him yea or nay. Second, would you still be able to complete your degree if you’re working fulltime
for
the club? I know that piece of paper is something you’ve been putting a lot of time and effort into, and I want to see you succeed.”

“Baby,” he said softly, and she tilted her head, looking at him. “I like you saying that ‘we’ stuff. It sounds all couple-ish and I like being coupled with you.”

Tilting her head down, she said, “I know. Me, too.”

She shook her head and looked up, taking a breath. “I’m serious here, though. Let’s talk it through, okay? So, third and really most importantly, how would you actually feel
about
not playing hockey? You’ve played the game for nearly your whole life. If you weren’t playing, you were preparing to play, or conditioning…but everything has revolved around the game, so what would that even look like for you?” With a smile and downward glance, she said, “Having you here all the time would be so good, but only if you’d be truly happy, Jase.” She frowned and looked back at the camera, sitting cross-legged on the bed, cupping her chin in one hand.

“From what he said, the job would be taking on a large part of your load, in one sense. He asked me to manage all the Fort Wayne businesses,” he said then laughed, because before he could finish the sentence, she interrupted with a loud, “Yes.”