“You good?” Garrett asked.

“Never better.”

“Joey told Gabby, Gabby told Lizzie…”

“Not doing a game of telephone with you. We got a game to play.”

“I know. But from someone who waited too damn long to have the best thing in his life, in his life. Don’t waste a second.”

“I said—”

“That’s it.” He pushed back to his knees and readjusted his helmet. “That’s all, man. You’ve got this. The game and the girl.”

“Damn straight.”

“And your stick is broken, brother.”

“What the hell?” I glanced down at it, and sure enough, a hairline crack right above the tape. “How in the fuck did that happen?” That would have snapped off at face-off.

We went through over a hundred sticks a season. A broken one wasn’t a big deal, but it was the first time I could remember breaking one after I taped it up and before a game. “Shit.”

I pushed to my feet and skated toward the bench. As I stepped off, Alix called for me. “Yeah?”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. Broken stick.” I scanned the sticks lined up in case something like this happened during the game and frowned.

“Problem?” I turned to Jay Lamonde, our defensive coach. His thinning head of shimmering white hair shined in the arena’s lights. Bets were being placed on when he’d finally retire, but he’d be a loss when the time came. A big one.

“My sticks aren’t out here.”

“Shit. That’s weird. I’ll head to the locker room and see what’s going on.”

“No. It’s cool. I got it.” There was usually another supply of all the sticks outside the locker room. Mine were probably there, and with the strange crack in this one, I wanted to check them myself. “That okay?”

“You know what you’re doing.” He shrugged it off and went back to the bench. Alix yanked me over to where Max and Kimmy were at the gate. Fans crowded around, calling our names, but it was Max who held my attention.

“Not ready yet?” I slapped his shoulder.

“Worth it to see the look on your face. Weird as hell though, seeing your ugly faces from this side of the glass.”

“I bet.” I climbed up and gave him a hug. “Good to see you. You’re coming to the hotel tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Missing sticks, whatever. I’m headed to the locker room.”

“Want me to come with?” Alix frowned as he scanned the sticks lined up. He knew how weird this was. “Help you look?”

“Nah.” I knocked my glove into Alix’s. “Be right back.”

I hurried down the hall, where arena workers were dressed in black pants and gray polos with the LA team’s logo on their chest. The sticks weren’t outside where they normally were, so I shoved open the door to the locker room to find someone from our team’s crew.

What in the fuck was going on? Not that I knew where they hung out during games, but there was usually someone here, or in the visitor’s team’s lounge and dining room.