Buffalo’s center loses the puck, and I’m there, poking it free. It ricochets off the boards, right to Lenyx. He spins it forward to Bowen, who takes off down the right side. I race up center ice to give him a pass option, drawing defenders.
But it’s Lenyx who’s wide open.
Bowen sees it, threads a textbook pass across the crease just as Lennie skates into position. One-time slapshot. Pure heat. Straight through the five-hole.
GOAL.
The entire place detonates.
Briggs is probably in Dante’s box, going nuts and asking for a raise.
The horn sounds like a freight train. The lights strobe. Confetti cannons blast neon green. I scream so loud my throat rips, hurling myself at Lennie, who’s already skating backward with his arms spread.
Bowen’s the first to reach him, barreling into him with a flying hug. “You lucky bastard!”
“You’re just pissed I didn’t pass to you!” Lenyx grins, red-faced and winded.
“You were supposed to shoot it wide so I could tap it in for glory!”
“You’d miss the net if I gift-wrapped it.”
The boys pile on. We slam into each other, laughing, swearing, celebrating. I end up with Bowen on one side and Owen on the other, everyone chanting Lennie’s name as the ref signals the final ten seconds.
Minerva’s pressed up against the glass now, face flushed, grinning with her whole face. I tap my glove over my heart and point to her. She mouths, “I love you,” and I mouth it right back.
The final buzzer screams.
Game. Over.
Venom wins.
We flood the ice, sticks raised high, gloves tossed skyward. Knight’s helmet gets knocked off by Viktor in the world’s sloppiest hug.
“I swear to God,” Knight huffs, "if your cologne gets on my jersey, I’m filing a complaint.”
“File it with HR,” Viktor shoots back.
Lenyx turns to me. “You know what this means, right?”
I smirk. “You’re buying drinks?”
“I get to be smug for at least seventy-two hours. Minimum.”
“Fair.”
We skate off the ice, victorious and wild, the roar of the crowd still shaking the rafters. I catch one last glimpse of Minerva before the tunnel swallows us.
And I already know what I’m playing for next time.
* * *
Dante corners us in the player lounge on our way out. The rest of the guys scatter, since nobody wants to be chewed out by ourboss. Dante waves them on until it’s only me and Minerva left in earshot.
“Nice win,” he says. “You kids should celebrate. Take the honeymoon suite at the Mona Lisa tonight.”
“Oh.” Minerva’s cheeks flush. “That’s not necessary—”
“Never said it was, but I won’t take no for an answer. I already called it in. No ferrets allowed, but Cannoli can stay with me and Julie if you want. And try not to break the headboard.”
