Not only did I feel like a WAG imposter, but simply put, Colton wasn’t doing well. He was getting ready to play Pete’s team twice. I made it clear that he didn’t need to do anything special when he played them, but it did little to calm him. It added to his exhaustion. He needed this win very badly.
So here we stood: Jeanine, Mara, and me, holding hands and hoping the power of our desperation could bring home a win.
Colt wasn’t in the first line out. Leroy won the overtime faceoff, but turned it over to Utah right away.
“Fuck,” Mara yelled, making the guy in front of us startle. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, we’ll get it back,” Jeanine said, patting the back of Mara’s hand.
We kept Utah from scoring, and the lines changed, sending out Colt, Dotsenko, and that little angel baby rookie, Owen. “Go go go go go,” I chanted. Colt swiped the puck and passed it to Owen, who drove down to the goal.
His first attempt went off Utah’s goalie’s leg pad, and Owen brought it behind the goal. Colton and Dotsenko arranged themselves on either side, making the goalie guess which way Owen would pass it.
While he was guessing, Owen snuck it in the tiny gap between the goalie’s skate and the goalpost.
Jeanine and Mara’s screams hurt my ears. Mine hurt my throat, but I couldn’t have cared less.
The Rusties won. They finally fucking won and you’d think we won the Stanley Cup with the way the fans reacted. I couldn’t stop jumping. Mara was using her cane that day and used it to beat the seat in front of her.
We were finally free of the curse. Maybe Coltwould settle now, come into his own. But all that mattered for this night was that the hard times were over.
“Who wants shots?”Colton bellowed out. Most of the team gathered in the bar of choice near the arena, Z Bar and the mood was sky high.
“Me!” Owen tried.
“You’re twenty, pumpkin,” I said, reaching high to pat his head.
“I got the game-winning goal!” he objected.
“I got ya, bud,” Royce said, pushing something into Owen’s hand.
“See, someone appreciates my contributions,” Owen said, popping what I assumed was a gummy into his mouth and chewing.
“Want one, Violet?” Royce asked, extending the container my way.
“Oh, no thank you. I have to drive your captain home.” I flicked my chin toward where Colton stood on a chair, dancing like he was swimming. He pulled Owen up to join him and a chant of “rookie! rookie!” started.
Colton and I hadn’t actually discussed how the rest of the night would go, but I didn’t mind putting myself in charge of his health and safety. He’d done enough for me, and I was so happy for him finally getting a win. “But hey, thanks for getting my name right!”
“Cap told me in no uncertain terms that it would be in my best interest to do so,” he admitted.
I shrugged. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Guess that means I won’t call you Rice anymore either.”
“Wow. Look at us, growing up,” he said.
I realized I was having a sane conversation with a goalie, and somewhat enjoying it. Logically, I knew not every goalie was Pete Doyle, but I needed to let my guard down enough to prove it to myself.
“I think I’m pretty grown up. Not to brag, but I do have a PhD,” I said.
“Oh, that’s right. Cap said at the minimum I should call you Dr. Gennari. What did you study?”
Royce asked thoughtful questions about my job and my research, and even if he might have been a little high, it was something I needed. His kindness and ease healed a part of me, even if it was small.
No one was dancing but Colton, and now he was dancing my way. “May I cut in, Royce?” he drawled, as if I’d been dancing with his goalie.
Royce chuckled. “She’s all yours, Cap.”
Colton looped his arms around my waist and I locked my hands behind his neck. He reeked of booze, but he was more relaxed than I’d seen him since before the season started. “Hey, pretty girl.”
