This game wasn’t a shutout because Arlo was playing just as hard as Fraser. And although their play styles varied, Arlo was as good as Mr. NHL, if not better. This was a high-scoring game. They were down to the last 12 minutes in third with the score tied 8-8, and Harrison was determined to watch Arlo skate away with the win.
It was time to change things up.
“You look like you’re having fun bossing people around,” Arlo hollered over the screaming spectators as he collapsed onto the bench. “Gates keeps whining because he thinks having you coaching us is an unfair advantage.”
“Then tell Gates that I’ll give him a quarter after the game and he can use it to call someone who fucking cares,” said Harrison. He knocked on one of the helmets in front of him, spooking the youngest player on the team wearing it. “Frost, you and Smith will take the next shift with Townsend. I don’t want the puck to leave your damn stick unless you’re passing it to him, got it?”
Frost was smart enough to nod quickly and not question him. The kid had been playing defence the whole game, but Harrison didn’t think the position suited him, not when he could magically wrangle the puck from his opponent and move it forward with such ease.
Harrison ignored Arlo’s raised eyebrow to avoid the rising urge to rip it off his face and smack him with it. It was a recurring facial expression that Arlo kept using whenever he sat down on the bench for his break.
And to annoy him further, Fraser chose that moment to skate by his bench and smile at him.
Harrison tapped his finger against his iWatch, hoping he got the message across loud and clear.
“I’m still waiting to see you pull off the Killinger move you told me you perfected.”
Fraser frowned.
Message received.
When Fraser’s team made a play that tipped the puck into the net, Arlo returned to the ice with Frost and Smith not far behind him. It was a big line change, but Harrison knew he had been right about the Frost kid when he stole the puck from Mike and took off like a bullet. He and Smith skated down the ice, pushing past the defence while passing the puck like they had been playing together for years.
Arlo was in the perfect position when Frost slapped the puck across the ice, delivering it to him with such precision that it took no effort for Arlo to slap it high above the goalie’s left shoulder.
The whole bench could hear Mike cursing over the buzzer, and Harrison didn’t bother hiding his smug smile when he turned his furious eyes on him and shouted something, but it was hard to hear over the cheers.
Fuck youmaybe? Or maybe he saidfuck off.
Harrison chuckled, but he stopped when Mike turned his anger on Fraser and gave him an angry shove, yelling something as he chased him to the bench.
He watched Fraser struggle to sit and drink from his water bottle while hiscaptaingestured angrily. Mike was turning purple from all the yelling, and it was taking everything Harrison had not to walk over and use that bastard’s face as a punching bag.
It wouldn’t be his best moment, but it also wouldn’t be his worst.
Harrison only looked away from Fraser’s lashing when the buzzer went off, sending the people into a frenzy. Arlo had put the puck in the net for the second time with three minutes left on the clock, and even though Fraser had barely had a chance to recover, Mike had him on the ice without any care for his health.
If Fraser walked away from this game injured because he couldn’t stand up for himself against an amateur like Mike, Harrison would kill him.
Both of them.
Fraser met his eyes from across the rink, and Harrison would have had to be blind to miss the determination in his gaze.
Yes.
Up until this point, they had been having fun. Fraser had been shooting him looks every time he scored, like a dog looking for praise afterperforming a trick. Harrison felt grounded in his skin as he watched Fraser skate, and Fraser’s need for approval was nothing short of addictive.
He didn’t even care when Fraser scored the next goal, leaving Arlo’s team with a 1-point lead. There wasn’t enough time on the clock for Team Fraser to make a comeback, unless he had someone other than Mike, who had made a point of being the only one allowed to assist Fraser.
He knew it. Fraser knew it. End game.
Harrison smiled at Fraser, giving him the praise he had wanted for that last goal. He thought he was being nice, but when Fraser looked at him and grinned back, he knew this wasn’t over.
Fraser and Arlo faced off, and Fraser knocked the puck to his right when it hit the ice, completely ignoring Mike in the scramble. Defence quickly attempted to block Fraser, but he signalled for the puck and caught the pass, narrowly avoiding having it stolen by Arlo.
Gates stopped Arlo before he could trip Fraser up, and that opening was enough for Fraser to use his speed and secure a breakaway.
The spectators were on their feet as Fraser flew down the ice, and their screaming was so loud that Harrison could feel the building shaking under his feet. Fraser was alone, and the goalie was locked in, but Harrison knew what was coming.
