That didn’t go well for them.
Less than ninety seconds in, one of their defensemen was heading to the box for tripping Eminem. The resulting power play goal put us up 3-0, and that led to one of their forwards losing his cool and slashing Davis.
I’d give their penalty kill credit—they managed to break away and make a valiant run into our zone for a shorthanded scoring chance. Mix and Baddy were hot on the guys’ heels, but they weren’t quite fast enough. The forward’s shot went right through Laramie’s five-hole into the back of the net.
Shame the play turned out to be offside.
The crowd was thoroughly pleased at having Chicago’s lone goal knocked off the scoreboard, and Chicago’s players werepissed.
There were two ways an angry team could play. One, they’d focus hard on hockey and channel all their fury into breaking through the opposition’s defenses to score. Two,they’d get so mad they lost track of what they were doing, and they fell apart.
Chicago was a mix of the two. Their top line was focused and solid, and they very nearly got a couple of shots past Laramie. The second D-pair kept their heads together, too, and they wouldn’t let us near their goal for anything.
The rest of the team, though? They were a mess. More interested in checking and trying to start fights than, you know, scoring.
Fine by us. None of them could successfully goad a Whiskey Rebel into a fight, and three of their attempts at checking or provoking turned out to be penalties—one boarding, two interference—which led to two more power play goals.
5-0 with six minutes left in the second? I couldn’t argue with that.
During a commercial break, the crowd suddenly started roaring. I looked up from an iPad, figuring I’d see Avery in the owners’ box on the Jumbotron.
It wasn’t him in his seat, but itwashim, standing outside the locker room with Falon. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying because the crowd was going absolutely wild. The roar quickly shifted to a chant, and soon the whole arena was shaking with, “Caldwell! Caldwell! Caldwell!”
The interview went away, and then the camera showed what I’d expected—Avery sitting up in the owners’ box. He looked dazed, staring around wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
As soon as he appeared on the screen, the chant intensified. Every fan was on their feet, and when Avery shakily rose and waved, I thought they were going to blow the roof off the place. They were already excited over thisblowout of a game, and seeing Avery in the building had them screaming like we’d just clinched the Cup.
I didn’t blame them one bit.
It was during the second intermission that I finally found out what he’d said during the interview. Several of the guys were huddled around an iPad, and when I craned my neck to see, I realized that was what they were watching.
“I don’t even want to imagine how far down the rabbit hole I’d have gone,” he was saying, “and how much I’d have destroyed my life, my career, and my body if Peyton Hall hadn’t been incredibly persistent. I owe him more than I can ever repay.”
My breath lodged in my throat. Fuck. I didn’t think… Holy shit.
Before I could even get my thoughts in order, Eminem reeled me in tight and slapped me on the back. “We all owe you, man.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Wedo.” He pulled back and put his hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye. “You saw something we didn’t. We all knew he was in bad shape, but whatever you did—he’s getting help.” His voice actually wavered a little as he added, “We’re gonna have Calds back because of you.”
“He’s right.” Baddy looked at me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen on him. “This could’ve gotten real bad if it wasn’t for you.”
I could barely breathe, but I managed, “I’m just glad he’ll be okay.”
“He will.” Baddy clapped my shoulder. “And weallowe you for that.”
They didn’t, but I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. Not when I was getting this choked up.
It didn’t matter who or why.
The bottom line was that Avery was going to be okay.
Avery came down to the locker room after the game, and he was going to need to dry clean that suit after being crushed in hugs from everyone in sweaty gear. He didn’t seem to mind. He was smiling more easily now; I hadn’t even realized how much tension he’d been carrying in his neck and shoulders until it had relaxed.
How muchhaveyou been piling on yourself, Avery?
And now I was going to be gone for a few days? Shit. I trusted him to take care of himself, especially now, but I’d still worry myself senseless if I couldn’t see him or talk to him.
