“I bet he didn’t,” Graham said with a laugh.
“There was this one road trip though. The spring before our draft. Someone snuck in booze, and we all ended up shit-faced in a hotel room. He wasn’t gonna drink but I—I goaded him into it. And later that night … I don’t know. A line got crossed, I guess.”
Graham frowned, not entirely sure what that meant. Sex? One of them saying something really out of line? With Tanner, who knew?
Graham was about to ask when Tanner spoke again.
“We had a big game against our rivals the next day. We were all hungover but Leif was especially in amood. Coach kept yelling at us to get it together and stop arguing—but I couldn’t leave it alone. It was dumb but I couldn’t stop poking at him and he kinda—he exploded, and his playing went to shit and we lost the game.”
Tanner chewed at his thumbnail, looking uncharacteristically miserable.
“And he blamed you for that?” Graham guessed.
“Uhh, yeah. And worst of all, he—there was a scout there. A Boston scout.”
“Huh,” Graham said. “And he wanted to play for Boston, yeah?”
“That wasallLeif wanted,” Tanner admitted. “It was all he could talk about. Getting drafted by them like his dad.”
“Ahh,” Graham said, wincing as some of the pieces starting to come together.
Aksel Rassmussen had been drafted by Boston, then played for New York for a while. There had been something strange about the trade, if Graham remembered right, though the senior Rasmussen had won back-to-back cups with New York, so he supposed it had all worked out in the end.
“And Leif blames you for losing that opportunity to play for the team that drafted his father?” Graham guessed.
“Yeah. He does.”
“And you feel bad about it?”
“I mean, kinda.”
“You could try being less of a dick to himnow,” Graham pointed out.
Tanner grinned. “Well, let’s not getcrazyhere.”
Graham held out a hand. “Okay, c’mon. Let’s go. We’ve got some hockey to play.”
“Yeah, okay,” Tanner said, reaching out and letting Graham haul him to his feet, his familiar smile lighting up his face again. “I guess we can do that.”
Thad watched the play on the ice intently as Graham shot out from a scrum of players and across the Harriers’ defensive zone.
It had been a scoreless first period despite Boston’s best efforts.
But as Graham carried the puck across the ice, Thad could feel it in his gut that something was about to change.
A moment later, Graham deked, then rocketed a shot across open ice to Tanner, who snapped it over to Connor who waited in the slot.
Connor neatly tucked the puck into the net between the New York goalie’s blocker and pad and the lamp lit up.
Enthusiastic as ever, Tanner threw himself in Connor’s direction, hollering something and making his captain stagger back before he caught himself.
The rest of the guys on the ice piled on and Thad smiled at the sight of the team celebrating.
The end of last season had been rough on everyone and starting out the new one with a loss to New Jersey hadn’t made anyone happy.
A win here tonight would do wonders for morale.
The celly broke up, guys streaming back to the bench for a commercial break and Thad laughed at Crawford getting a grip on Tanner’s helmet and jostling him. He snapped a few photos of their interactions, knowing it would go over well on social media.
