ChapterOne
Cole
This can not be happening to me. Again. Hopefully, this time, the outcome is different.
“Here we are again. The Portland Timberwolves and the Boise Wolverines are fighting for a win in the Western Conference Championship.” One of the announcer's voices fills the arena.
My knee bounces up and down, the only sign of my nerves as my teammate skates toward center ice. Today was supposed to be our day to win. We took an early lead in the first period and held it until the third, but then we—honestly, I don’t know what we did, but it wasn't quality hockey. Now it all comes down to a shootout to determine who will head to the Stanley Cup Finals. Here’s hoping that things go better than the game did, or we can kiss our chances goodbye.
The rivalry between our teams has been going on for years, long before I even joined the league. We have been neck and neck almost every year, fighting for the top spot in the Western Conference. What was once a friendly rivalry has turned into indescribable tension and just downright bad blood between us. Today is no exception. Between the many fights that broke out on the ice during regulation time and the trash-talking, you could cut the tension in the arena with a knife, poised to erupt the moment a winner is declared.
“The score is 1-1. The Timberwolves had a chance to pull ahead in this last round, but the Wolverine's goaltender, Mark Harvey, made a spectacular save, keeping them in this game. Let’s just hope they can light the lamp for a second time with this next shot, Tom.”
As the home team, Portland chose to shoot second. Their choice surprised me, but I figured their mistake was our gain. That is, until Coach made the last-minute decision to switch Leon in for Sims in the second round. Now I’m not so sure, but I'm optimistic, although I have this nagging feeling that he’s sabotaging us on purpose.
The Timberwolves’ long-time announcer’s voice is laced with concern. “The Wolverines are taking an enormous risk naming Leon as their second shooter. Leon hasn’t scored on Beau Hendrix once during the entire best-of-seven series.”
You and me both.Leon hasn’t been able to hit the broadside of a barn at all during this series. If I’m being honest, he’s been off for weeks now, but no one has said a word. A fact that might just cost us a chance at the championship.
I’m good, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t have the best scoring average against my brother, especially during the conference championships. I’ve gotten plenty of shots, but my shooting percentage is only a little over 13 percent. Not too bad, but it’s definitely not something to write home about. Putting all the weight of the win into my gloves was intentional.
“That’s right, Tom. If Leon misses this goal, he puts all the pressure on the youngest Hendrix brother to bring the Wolverines the win.”
Can they ever just use my name? I played my first NHL hockey game for the Wolverines a couple of months after my eighteenth birthday. I’ve played in countless games, but still, my entire career is boiled down to being Cooper and Beau Hendrix’s little brother, especially when we’re playing each other.
Management has made it perfectly clear that signing me to the team all those years ago was nothing more than a ploy to get my brothers to join the team. They assumed that because Cooper and Beau were close, we all were. What an absolute crock of shit, especially after what Cooper has done. Ever since I found out his secret, I haven’t been able to look him in the eye.
“Here comes Leon, the second shooter for the Wolverines,” Tom says as the entire area is silenced. Every person is on the edge of their seat, waiting to see if the Wolverines take the lead or if the Timberwolves keep their Western Conference Championship dreams alive.
The referee drops the puck at center ice and gets out of the way as Leon makes his way toward the goal. The minute I see him deke the puck to the right, I know there’s no way he’s scoring. Leon’s been using the same tired moves all series, hoping to catch Beau off guard and slide the puck in behind him, but he’s failed every single time. Anyone else would have switched it up, tried something different, anything to throw my brother off, but Leon’s cocky. He has underestimated Beau, the same way he has always underestimated me.
“Leon comes in on Beau Hendrix to the backhand… Oh my God, what a save! Beau Hendrix has kept the Timberwolves' Stanley Cup dreams alive with that save.”
The arena erupts into a mix of boos and cheers as the puck drops from Beau’s glove onto the ice beside him. The sound is almost deafening as Leon skates toward the bench. Coach opens the door to the box moments before Leon comes to stop in front of it and steps inside. No one says a word as Leon rips his helmet off his head and throws it toward the opposite end of the box. It goes flying, barely missing hitting our teammate sitting at the end of the bench.
“You better not fuck this up, Hendrix,” he growls, his face full of nothing but contempt.
I bite my tongue, holding back the bitter retort on the end. I glance down the bench, looking for some backup or words of encouragement from my teammates. We all know that nothing good ever comes from getting in Leon’s face, especially when we play the Timberwolves, but the silence stings.
My teammates have the same opinion of me as management. They love me when I help them win and couldn't care less what I do when I don’t. But I’m desperate to stay.
The contract offer from the Wolverines came at the perfect time in my life. I needed to get away from that house, from my brothers, from everyone, because it was all a lie. I needed something that wasn’t tainted by brothers. A chance for me to be someone other than Cooper and Beau Hendrix’s little brother. Too bad it was all a goddamn lie. Everything is riding on us winning this game. My entire career has boiled down to me being able to beat my two big brothers.
“Let’s just hope Coop doesn’t have all his moves back,” someone on the other end of the bench says as Cooper gets prepared to make his way onto the ice. I watch my brother as he slides his hands into his gloves and turns to speak to Coach Mercer.
“I should’ve taken out his knee a second time during the game.” Leon plops down on the bench, a few people between us, before pulling off his gloves. “Then we’d have the win in the bag for sure. The Timberwolves are nothing without Hendrix.”
“Cooper being on the ice has nothing to do with us being in this position, Leon. They played harder today. End of story. Besides, cheating isn’t how we want to win,” I respond without thinking.
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. Although no one could prove it, everyone on the bench believes Leon intentionally injured my brother last year, hoping it would give us the edge to win the game. Unfortunately for him, that plan backfired, and we lost. Again. Cooper ended up on the injured reserve list for most of this season, but was moved back to the game day lineup right before the playoffs started, and he came out ready to go. I guess watching his team from the sidelines for most of the season rekindled his love for the game, although I doubt that’s the case. If what I’ve been seeing online is true, a certain someone might have more to do with it than people know.
“Do you want to go, Hendrix? Your brothers won’t be able to protect you from me.” Leon lunges toward me, but the players between us push to their feet. Each one places a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly and shaking their heads. The last thing we need is to make a scene, and we all know it.
I should keep my mouth shut and stop egging Leon on, but I decide against it. Leon has been on my ass about my brothers since day one on the team, and I’m fucking sick of it. Sick of being compared to the two future hockey legends. Constantly in their shadow, never being given a chance to prove myself as a hockey player.
“I have never needed either of my brothers’ help for anything, Leon. Sit your ass down, and stop embarrassing yourself and the team.”
My eyes lock on Cooper as he steps out of the box, but he doesn’t even glance in my direction. His eyes are focused on center ice and the task at hand. A small part of me wants my big brother to look in my direction and give me a reassuring smile, letting me know that either way, he’ll still have my back. But that’s never going to happen.
