She hung up the phone, turning back to Reese. “Can we come in tomorrow or maybe Monday? Phillip has a game I have to get to.”

“Sure,” Reese said, because she wanted to go upstairs and watch the game.

“Okay, cool. Brian, can you drop us off at the arena?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Awesome. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yup, y’all be safe,” she said as they gathered their things, and then they were gone. Reese stood in the same place, still trying to catch her breath. She usually kept those memories of Kevin locked up and hated when she let them out. It was like ripping old wounds open and pouring a jar of salt in them. It burned. Letting out a groan, and pushing thoughts of Kevin far, far away, she decided that she wanted to change, get a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and cuddle up with… Oh fudge, she was about to say Phillip.

For f**k’s sake.

Chapter 17

PHILLIP SAT back on the bench, reaching for his water bottle, squirting a mouthful of water before spitting it out and then refilling. He did this twice more before swallowing his mouthful and replacing his water bottle to its spot in the boards. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Skylar and Claire were there, both girls screaming and dancing along with the music that was playing while the ice team cleaned up the ice during a TV commercial. They both were sporting Anderson #33 jerseys, with little Assassins’ tattoos on their cheeks. It brought a smile to his face; he loved the jubilant look on Claire’s face.

Looking back up at the jumbotron, he cursed under his breath. They were down by one against the Wild. He had so many chances to score but couldn’t seem to get it to the back of the net, and it was driving him insane. He was better than this. He was a f**king winner, damn it! Psyching himself up, he almost flew over the board to get back on the ice when the coach tapped his shoulder. Skating out, he flanked Erik, receiving the pass before sending it to Karson King, who redirected it to the goal, but the goalie swatted it away like it was a fly. Phillip rushed the net, going around it and taking the puck from the Wild’s defensemen, before passing it to the slot where Erik was. He missed but, thankfully, it came right to Phillip and he wristed it right to the back of the goal, causing the lights to go off along with the horns. He threw his arms up in the air, screaming out as the guys wrapped him up in a tight hug, congratulating him.

“Way to break that bad streak,” Shea said, slapping him hard on the back.

Phillip nodded as he skated towards the bench, slapping hands with his teammates before sending Claire a grin. She was screaming. Jumping up and down and looking so freaking excited it took his breath away. He sat down on the bench, everyone still tapping his helmet, congratulating him as he watched his teammates fight for the puck before going into the Wild’s zone. The crowd was deafening. His adrenaline was through the roof, and he was ready to hit the ice again. Thankfully, the tap came and he went over the boards with ease but, unfortunately, went offside according to the ref.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t blow the whistle if I wasn’t serious.”

“Crap call, guy, crap call.”

“Watch it, Anderson,” he said as Phillip lined up for the faceoff. He knew to shut his mouth, refs controlled this game sometimes, and he wasn’t in the mood to be on his bad side. The Wild’s forward swatted at Phillip’s stick but he stayed strong. When the ref dropped it, he sent it back to Shea before skating up towards the goal. Shea sent the puck up the boards and Phillip rushed to it, but so did the other forward. They both got there at the same time, crashing into each other, but also sending the puck into the air and straight into Phillip’s mouth.

Pain exploded in his face and he fell to the ice, holding his face as blood appeared on his gloves.

Fuck, that hurt.

Jim, the team’s medic, was beside him in seconds, saying, “Phillip, what hurts?”

“My mouth,” he said as he sat up. The crowd all gasped as Jim placed a towel against Phillip’s mouth. Phillip took it and stood up, holding it as he skated towards the bench. He wasn’t dizzy, which was great, and it didn’t seem like anything else hurt, just his mouth. He looked up to see Claire watching him, her eyes wide, and he shook his head quickly, waving her off. “I’m fine,” he called out, but he wasn’t sure she could hear him as he sat on the bench. Jim tried to get him to come to the back, but Phillip shook him off. “I’m good.”

“Anderson, go!” Baxter yelled.

Fucking hell. He just wanted to play!

Phillip rolled his eyes, following him to the entryway, right by Claire, removing the cloth so Jim could see.

“Dizzy?”

“No, I want to play,” he said, but then he felt like something was hanging and asked, “Is that my tooth? Or a hole in my lip?”

“Your tooth, you’re going to have to go to the back, and let the dentist look at you. It needs to be pulled. That’s the only thing I see.”

“Fuck that,” Phillip said, reaching up and pulling the tooth out. It stung, but he needed to get back on the ice. He wasn’t done scoring. He smiled at Jim and asked, “Everything else look good?”

Jim laughed. “Yeah, I think you got it.”

“Awesome,” he said, handing Jim his tooth. “Hang on to that, maybe they can glue it back in.”

The guys on the bench laughed as Phillip fell back into his spot, pushing his tongue up into the new hole. It felt weird, but he didn’t care. “Hope this doesn’t dent my reputation with the ladies.”