We can't complete a pass. Felix sends one into Liam's skates. Liam banks one off the boards to nobody. I try to carry it through the middle myself, get stripped at their blue line. They turn and go the other way.
Another goal. 5-2. I don't even see who scored. I'm still skating back, legs burning, lungs on fire.
The buzzer finally sounds. Second intermission. We stumble off the ice.
"Who the fuck are those guys?" Felix hisses beside me as we get to the locker room.
"Who the fuck knows." Matthews rips off his mask, stares at the opposing bench. "They're not on the roster. I memorized their roster."
"Ringers," Vasquez spits. "They brought in ringers. Players who aren't supposed to be on their team."
"That's not—" Coach starts, then stops. Because technically, it is legal. Teams can make roster changes up until game time. It's dirty, it's underhanded, but it's legal.
I stare at the floor. Sweat drips off my nose, making small dark spots on the rubber mat. My hands shake as I pull off my gloves.
"Silas," Liam says quietly.
I look up. The whole team is watching me, waiting for answers I don't have.
Chapter twenty-six
Naomi
I burst through the VIP box door. My coat is half off, my hair has abandoned any pretense of styling, and my lungs burn from running ten blocks.
"Where have you been?" Mia's on her feet, worry creasing her face. "The third period just started!"
I lean against the door frame, trying to catch my breath and pull my coat off at the same time, which results in me nearly strangling myself with my own scarf. "Traffic," I gasp between gulps of air. "The whole town... everyone's here... I took a cab… thinking it'd be faster than finding parking with my rental, but..." Another desperate inhale. "Everything's blocked. So I left the cab and ran."
My shoes are definitely ruined. My tights have a run from knee to ankle. I probably look like I've been dragged through a hedge backward. Professional attorney Naomi has left the building.
"I ran as fast as I could," I pant, finally freeing myself from my coat. "In these shoes. I think I broke a personal record. Or a lung. Possibly both."
I straighten up, still breathing hard, and my eyes find the scoreboard.
5-2 Brookfield.
My stomach drops through the floor, through the building foundation, possibly to the earth's core.
"Oh no."
"Yeah." Mia's voice is quiet, tense. She hands me a bottle of water which I accept gratefully. "They're getting crushed. Three players Brookfield brought in at the second period that nobody's seen before. Complete ringers. The guys are... they're hanging in there, but..."
I move to the glass, my breath fogging it slightly. What I see justifies the score. Felix passes to empty ice where Liam should be but isn't. Silas tries to direct team but nobody seems to hear him. Their defense is scattered, their offense nonexistent.
"They scored twice playing like this?" The question comes out before I can stop it, and I immediately feel guilty for asking.
"First period was beautiful," Mia says, and there's something wistful in her voice. "They were up 2-0, completely dominating. Then the second period..." She shakes her head. "The new players changed everything. It's like watching an amateur team suddenly face professionals. They just can't keep up."
The puck drops for a face-off. Silas loses it immediately, the Brookfield player flicking it back before Silas even finishes his motion. They advance into the Puckers' zone with surgical precision—pass, pass, pass—and the Puckers chase but they're always a beat behind, playing the echo of where the puck was instead of where it is.
The goalie makes a desperate save, dropping to his knees and throwing his glove out at the last second. The crowd cheers, but it sounds tired, like they're trying to convince themselves there's still hope.
My chest aches. Actually physically aches watching them like this… especially since I know what today means for them.
And I'm late. I'mlateto the one thing that might have shown them support, and given them strength. God, I hope they don't think I've abandoned them.
"Did they—" I start, then stop because I'm not sure I want to know the answer. "Did they look for me? Earlier?"
