"The Golden Gate Bridge?" I shrugged. "It’s in our name as the Golden Gate Guardians."
Ryder rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Have I told you today that you’re an idiot, Ted?"
"Nope. Glad we cleared that up," I grinned.
I knew the answer he wanted. Knew him too well.
A few guys threw out some other answers—like the rink, our reputations—but with each suggestion, my friend sighed louder.
"Maybe try a different motivating tactic?" Jules suggested.
The energy in the room felt flat, and it didn’t help that we were down by two with one period to go. This team was about to walk out there and finish the game like it was already over, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
So, I put Ryder out of his misery.
"The puck, Captain. We guard the puck."
Ryder pointed at me, snapping, "Exactly. Defense. We’re playing too slow out there. Every scoring chance will come from team defense. I want you finishing your checks, hitting hard. Don’t let a single one of them skate in on Gonzo."
Gonzo, our goalie, sat in his wider stall, elbows on knees, his head bowed. He never spoke during intermission, always staying in his own zone. He didn’t even lift his gaze when they called his name.
"Who the fuck are we?" Ryder yelled again.
"The Guardians!" we shouted, the energy flooding back into the room.
"And what do we guard?"
"The puck!"
Ryder turned, his gaze intense as he scanned each of us. "I want you skating like you just had the best sex of your life and are being chased down the Embarcadero by the girl’s brothers, with not even your granny panties covering your asses."
"Bro," I grimaced, "you’re dating my sister. Don’t saysex."
The guys around me burst out laughing, the mood shifting from tense to charged, and someone hit play on arepsong. The team had become obsessed with Taylor Swift ever since Alexei Vasiliev put it on after a game as a joke and realized half the team knew the words.
Dammit, I loved this fucking team.
Ryder rejoined me at our side-by-side lockers, and his usual captain persona slipped just a little.
"Did Sydney give you that speech?" I asked, tossing him a bottle of Body Armor.
He chugged half of it before answering. "She doesn’t always tell me what to do."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, yes. I just hadn’t used it yet."
I leaned back, laughing. This dude was so gone for Syd. It was a good thing they were my two favorite people in the world.
When it was time to take the ice again, I lined up across from Danny Sillinger and smirked.
"What are you so giddy about?" he growled. "Have you seen the scoreboard?"
"Why, yes," I bent, waiting for Ryder to take the face-off. "In fact, I just got back from the future, and you’re not going to like it."
The puck dropped, sticks clashed for it, and then, it was mine—thanks to Ryder.
I tried to deke Danny, but he crushed me into the boards. "You’re so fucking weird," he snapped, still battling for the puck. "The future, really?"
