1
Hunter
It was a cruel joke, the scoreboard. Against Utah Mammoth, no less. Time bled away faster than my brain could process. I even thought I’d imagined that last buzzer.
But the silence choking the arena confirmed it was real. The deafening sound of disappointment and disbelief. We were 3–0 down in what was supposed to be a season opener in the bag.
“Screw this. Callahan!” Coach’s call fractured my bubble of humiliation.
I jerked upright on the bench, but that was it. Because no way was he for real right now. He wasn’t sending me on to save the unsavable day.
“You gonna make me wait?” He slapped my arm with his clipboard. “Get your ass out there and for the love of all that is holy, stop something.”
My stick slid into my glove, and I vaulted over the boards before things got ugly. Or, uglier than they already were. Trey’s head hung low as he skated by me, grumbling something about this being bullshit. I didn’t blame him. I swung back when I hit the posts and noticed how he didn’t even hit the bench. Just kept walking.
“I’ll deal with him later,” Grayson said, skating up and tapping my helmet. “You good?”
“Does it matter?”
“Helps if I know the net’s covered,” he said.
I struck my pads with my stick and took ownership of my space. “Only net you need to worry about is the one over there.”
He laughed, and returned to his top line for a quick huddle.
Last season, this place could barely contain the yelling and chanting from overzealous fans. I’d even spotted my name on a few posters punching the air. Tonight was the total opposite. I saw my name, my face, but the posters weren’t punching anything. People just weren’t feeling it.
I forced it out of my head. Just hold the post. Do the job.
The whistle was still echoing when Utah’s top line pressed hard. I cut to the crease, squared my shoulders and barked at Theo as he tried to shield off their winger.
“Take high!”
Theo threw me a quick nod, sweat glistening through the cage of his helmet. “Don’t let me down, sweetheart.”
Yeah, no pressure.
The Utah winger fired from the circle. The shot pinged off Mason’s shin pad and ricocheted straight toward the slot. My gut lurched. I dropped to a knee, stick flat, and the puck smacked against my blade with a crack that rattled up my arm. I swept it wide before their center could jam it in.
But someone else picked it up and rounded back to regroup. Our guys had no answer to get possession back where it belonged.
I crouched, glove and blocker ready, eyes on the Mammoth’s first line. The rush was faster than when I watched from the bench. A slap shot from the blue line came screaming toward me. I dropped down, pad out, and felt the familiar thump as it pinged into my chestprotector. Second save.
“Nice!”
“It’ll be nice if you put a couple away before Christmas, Calder!” I was in the zone. Feeling good. The nerves that followed me out on the ice were straight-up rattled out of me. Now all we needed were a few goals…
The puck came back at the net like a missile. I kicked it out with my right pad, spinning to catch the rebound. Theo cleared it along the boards, Mason yelling something about coverage. The guys were trying, God bless them, but Utah was hungry. They got the taste of an improbable victory, and they weren’t holding back.
I could feel Grayson behind me, yelling orders, keeping the defense in check. Mason skated up with Tucker closing in, waving his stick. They were trying to create something, anything, to break through. I had to give them that. But every save I made was just me buying time. Time we didn’t have.
“Any time you’re ready,” Theo grunted as Grayson circled. “We can’t hold them off all night.”
“Speak for yourself, princess,” I called out. “I got fresh legs and saves for days.”
Reset.
Mason hollered as a Utah forward rushed into the slot. I pivoted, glove up, and snagged the puck just as it was about to cross the line. Theo’s stick was there, swiping it down the ice. Small win.
