Their goalie isn’t giving me much room to shoot and I search for an outlet, for space to make a pass.
When that doesn’t magically materialize, I maneuver behind the goal, protecting the puck as I scan and?—
There.
The slash to the back of my leg takes me down to one knee but I get the pass off to Lake then jump up and keep moving.
He taps it back and I lose it for a second, having to dig it out from the boards.
But I manage to regain control and then I’m cycling again, grinding out some space as Storm slides in behind me.
With a grunt, I flick it over to him and he moves like he always does—like liquid lightning—squirting between two players, cutting to the net.
I follow him…only it’s not to provide an outlet for a pass or a screen on the goal.
This time it’s to be a spectator.
Because Storm has this.
He dekes around one player, drops his shoulder and barrels his way through another and winds up…
But he doesn’t take the shot. He fakes it and, in truly devious fashion, slides it over to Lake.
Our captain doesn’t hesitate.
He buries that fucker into the back of the net.
There’s a moment of quiet—something that seems to happen after every goal, something that seems impossible in a space housing more than twenty thousand people, but it does.
That heartbeat of hushed silence.
And then…
Not cheers like we’d have at home.
Though we do get a few interspersed amongst the groans and boos.
I’ll take it.
Because those groans and boos are fuel for more goals, for securing another victory, for keeping our foot on the gas pedal and not letting the Rattlers find a foothold to get back into the game.
For now, though, I’m skating over to join Storm and Lake in their celebration.
“Fuck yeah!” I clap Storm on the back, bump Lake’s fist.
Then we’re all skating to the bench and I’m thinking about how to celebrate the win with someone else, someone far prettier (though I know more than a few people would dispute that when it comes to Lake, considering all the underwear modeling he does, ha).
Last night was the greatest form of torture.
But it was also one of the best of my life.
In fact, it was so great and I’m so focused on the knowledge they’re only going to get better as Kylie trusts me more and more, I don’t feel him come up behind me.
Don’t sense the little fuck that’s Lex Ambrose winding up.
Don’t sense the stick coming toward my head.
But I do feel the pain that explodes through me.
