A Gilmore's Return

Chapter Thirty-Six: Skating on Edge

Before the call:

The arena buzzed with energy, the cheers of fans bouncing off the walls as the puck dropped at center ice. Beau was a blur of motion from the start, his skates cutting sharply into the ice, propelling him forward like a man on a mission. The opposing team had barely touched the puck before Beau stole it and charged up the ice, weaving past defenders with a precision that left even the crowd stunned.

Riley sat on the bench beside Avery and Quinn, his hands gripping the barrier in front of him tightly. The three of them were out for this shift, waiting for the coach to signal the next line change. Riley had seen Beau in intense games before, but this... this was different. Every movement of Beau's seemed sharper, every check against an opponent harder. He was skating like he had something to prove-and like he didn't care what it cost him.

"Beau's on fire tonight," Avery said from his spot at the bench, his tone tinged with admiration.

"Yeah," Riley murmured, though his eyes didn't leave the ice. Beau's fire felt less like determination and more like desperation.

Quinn leaned over from the other side of Riley, their eyes following Beau's relentless pace. "I mean, it's great for us, but is he okay? He's, uh..." Quinn hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Playing like he's got a death wish?" Riley filled in, his voice tighter than he intended.

Avery frowned, glancing at him briefly before turning his attention back to the game. Beau had just slammed into an opponent with a force that sent the other player sprawling and earned a roar of approval from the crowd.

Beau wasn't alone out there, but it felt like he might as well have been. Julie was holding her own in goal, stopping a flurry of shots with ease, while Leo was grinding against the boards in the defensive zone, trying to win the puck back. But even with teammates on the ice, Beau was playing as though it all rested on him. Every time the puck came loose, Beau was there first, charging ahead like a one-man army.

"Beau doesn't hold back," Avery said. "It's how he plays. You know that."

But Riley wasn't convinced. This wasn't just Beau being aggressive or playing his usual high-energy style. There was an edge to it, a recklessness he didn't like.

The whistle blew for a line change, and Beau skated toward the bench, his chest heaving as he grabbed a water bottle. Even as he sat, his knee bounced impatiently, like he couldn't wait to get back out there.

"You good?" Quinn asked, their tone light but probing as they passed him a towel.

"Never better," Beau said, though the quickness of his response didn't match the exhaustion in his voice.

Riley caught his eye, his gaze searching Beau's face for any crack in his confident facade. "You sure?"

Beau flashed a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Relax, Riley. I'm fine."

The whistle blew again, and Beau was back on the ice before Riley could say more.

This time, Riley's stomach twisted as Beau darted into the action. He chased the puck with single-minded intensity, cutting off angles and forcing turnovers. When an opponent tried to check him against the boards, Beau spun out of it with a deftness that drew gasps from the crowd. But instead of resetting the play, he charged right back in, slamming into the same player harder than necessary.

Avery winced beside him. "That was... a lot."

Quinn let out a low whistle. "Does he think he's invincible?"

Riley couldn't stay still any longer. He stood, pacing a few steps behind the bench as the game continued. His eyes stayed glued to Beau as he carried the puck into the offensive zone, dodging defenders with an almost reckless abandon.

"Pass it," Riley muttered under his breath, his hands gripping the back of the bench. "Pass it, Beau."

But Beau didn't pass. He charged the net, cutting through two defenders with a burst of speed. The opposing goalie lunged, but Beau's wrist shot slipped through, and the red light flashed behind the net. The crowd erupted, but Riley's heart sank as he watched Beau slam into the boards after the shot, his momentum too much to control.

Beau got up quickly, shaking it off like nothing had happened, but Riley could see him favoring one leg as he skated back to the bench.

"That's it," Riley said, his voice low but firm.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked as Riley stepped down the bench toward where Beau was grabbing a water bottle.

"Stopping him from doing something stupid," Riley shot back, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Beau looked up as Riley approached, his brows knitting in confusion. "What?"

"You need to dial it back," Riley said, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "You're pushing way too hard."

Beau shrugged, his tone dismissive. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Riley narrowed his eyes. "This isn't fine, Beau. If you keep this up, you're going to hurt yourself-or worse."

Beau didn't respond, brushing past him to get back to the game. Riley stood frozen for a moment, his jaw clenched as he watched Beau skate out again.

No one else seemed to notice what Riley saw so clearly. Beau wasn't just playing hard; he was skating like he didn't care what happened to him. And as the puck dropped for the next play, Riley's hands tightened on the barrier again, his chest heavy with a feeling he couldn't shake: worry.