Julian nudged me, drawing my attention to an Iowa player heading for the penalty box.
The power play was the Frankie show. “Okay, Cassidy, Vasiliev, Edwards, Clarky, and Fischer. I want you out there for the power play.” I drew on the tablet in my hands and showedit to them. They were used to our scheme, the positioning I insisted on as we skated into the zone. Yet, it helped me to tell them again.
When they hit the ice, Teddy turned a glare on me. “That’s my power play unit. I should be out there.”
I shook my head firmly. "Give your knee a break."
Even without looking, I could feel his eyes drilling into me, but the charged atmosphere was a far cry from the warm intensity of last night. This was angry Teddy, a side of him I rarely saw. Good, I thought. Let him be mad. It usually fueled his best performances.
There were only thirty-two seconds left on the power play when Ryder let loose with a shot from the point—a missile that blasted past the goalie and into the net. The bench exploded with cheers as the players embraced, slapping hands and grinning like they'd just won the cup. The first unit finally skated off the ice, sweat glistening on their faces, and the second unit jumped on, eager to keep the momentum going.
By the time the horn sounded to end the period, we were up two-to-one.
I expected the team to shuffle straight to the locker room, but then I heard it—the unmistakable beat of a song blaring through the arena. The guys poured back onto the ice, all grins and energy. Damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They usually saved these impromptu dance-offs for commercial breaks, not the intermission. Griff was going to lose it.
But as I watched them, something in me softened. I couldn't even muster the usual exasperation. They were… so happy. Teddy and Ryder led the crew, confidently pulling off moves that had clearly been rehearsed to perfection. Shai skated by in her ridiculous demented dog costume, capturing it all on film.
I couldn't hold it in—a laugh burst from me as Teddy tried and spectacularly failed to lift an unsuspecting Ryder. Griff shotme a side-eyed glare, his frustration practically vibrating off of him.
"You actually like this, don't you?" he muttered.
I shrugged, lifting one shoulder. "It's harmless."
"Harmless?" he scoffed. "Except to my eyes. They're fucking awful."
"I think that's part of the charm," I teased. "They're viral for a reason." I gestured to the chaos unfolding on the ice. Even Gonzo, clad in his full goalie gear, had joined in, looking as absurd as ever. "And you can't deny the results." I flicked a glance toward the stands, now packed with fans screaming and cheering. "Remember when this place was empty?"
Griff's grunt was his only response. "Dancing in hockey… It’s just not right."
"To you, maybe," I said, crossing my arms. "But these guys wouldn’t be out here playing if it weren’t for fans like that. And those fans? They love these ‘dancing queens.’"
He huffed, the sigh coming out like a puff of smoke, and turned toward the tunnel that led to the locker room. I followed him a moment later, noting the way he slammed the door to his office behind him, a clear sign of his mood. Sullivan was waiting for me in the empty locker room, his grin wide as he tossed me a towel.
"Griff’s in a bad mood?" he asked, eyeing me. "We're winning, for Christ’s sake."
"Hey, Coach," a voice cut through, startling me as it came from too close.
I spun around so fast my heart skipped a beat, only to face the devilish grin of Teddy Valentine.
“For fuck’s sake, Valentine,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my chest like I might’ve just had a minor heart attack.
He winked, as effortlessly charming as always, and sauntered toward his stall without a care in the world.
Sullivan snorted beside me. "As long as I’ve known Teddy—and that's pretty much been my whole life—he’s never known how to turn off the flirt. Before my wedding, he looked me straight in the eyes and told me how beautiful I looked."
I laughed, trying to mask the discomfort that stirred beneath my skin. Sullivan had no idea how Teddy's wink had made my pulse race or that I couldn’t stop glancing at him, even as I tried to pretend like I wasn’t.
"You okay?" Sullivan asked, his voice quieter now.
I cleared my throat and tugged at the edge of my braid, a half-hearted smile on my face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"You just look… a little pale."
I shook my head quickly, trying to shake off whatever weirdness had settled in my chest. "I’m great. Really. Just… fine." Changing the subject was my best bet. "I don’t think Griff is coming out until the second period starts."
Remy appeared behind us, tablet in hand, and he didn’t waste any time. "Frankie, I got nothing right now. You wanna give a pep talk? Just… don’t let Sullie do it."
"Hey!" Sullivan protested, voice full of mock indignation. "I’m a fine speaker."
