The clock ticked, but the scoreboard didn’t budge. Three-nothing. And still, silence in the arena. Every missed pass, every slip from my defense, felt like it echoed in the cavernous stands. I caught a glimpse of our fans. A handful of them clapped hesitantly. The rest just stared, blank, frozen.
I could almost hear Trey’s footsteps fade into the tunnel, a ghost of frustration. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted this nightmare of a game to go on forever, or call it a day and see what the crash out would be inthe locker room after. Especially after the ordeal we’d been through with Trey demanding to keep his starting post on the roster.
“Center ice!” the Utah forward barked.
They stormed forward again. One-two-three, rapid passes, and I dropped into a butterfly stance. The puck slid toward the left post. Glove hand, up, thump. Saved. My shoulder shook from the impact, but what I felt was the old rhythm of the game that had kept me alive on the ice for seven years.
Theo skated back, giving me a stiff nod. “Guess you were right about those fresh legs, Callahan.”
“I’m always right.”
Grayson spun into the next play, Mason right behind him. I could see Mason’s hands tense around his stick. We were all feeling the sting of a season opener slipping away, the shock that this was real. I don’t think I breathed through the rest of their play.
They set up a perfect two-on-one. Mason crossed the crease, trying a blind pass. Their goalie caught it just in time, glove snapping up.
“Fuck!” Grayson cursed, cycling back to regroup.
Shawn swept up the left in a surprise move, swiftly feeding Tucker who touched it through to Mason. No time to think. Slap shot to Grayson’s backdoor, one-touch– Fans stirred. Small claps rippled through the stunned crowd, and my chest pulled tight with frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard.
Another whistle. Face-off in the Mammoth zone. Puck dropped. I was crouched, ready. They fired a shot from the blue line. Blocker save. Rebound loose. It got picked up quickly and our guys rushed forward, each pass a thing of beauty. This was it. It had to be. Mason looped it low and hard, the puck kissing Grayson’s stick on that sweet spot that spelled danger to whoever tried to get in his way. Their goalie didn’t get the memo, though, and swallowed up Grayson’s shot like it came from a five-year-old.
Seconds left on the clock. And then, like a punch to the gut, abreakaway. Utah forward, speed like lightning, puck skittering across the ice. I charged forward. Stick angled. Glove ready. He faked left, shot right. I lunged. The puck slid past and hit the back of the net with a hollow thud that I felt all the way inside my bones.
Final buzzer. Four to them, and a big, fat zero to us. The silence in the arena was crushing. Suffocating.
I dropped to my knees, breath ragged. I couldn’t look at Coach, although I was painfully aware of him staring daggers in my direction. And where I avoided him, the rest of my team didn’t throw a spare glance at me as they left the ice.
“It was an impossible ask,” Mason said to me once we were back in the locker room. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Too late.”
Usually a hive of activity, the locker room felt more like a funeral parlor. We just sat there. Exhausted. Defeated. Tucker was flat on the floor, full gear, head back against the wall, his eyes staring off into space. That look of hollow disappointment was mirrored in each of us.
“Well, that was a shitshow.” Coach stomped in, shoulders wide, eyes burning. “So much for setting the tone for the cup this season.”
“I don’t know what went wrong, Coach,” Grayson spoke up. As captain, it was always going to be him.
“I do,” Coach replied with enough heat to set the place on fire. “Short answer? Everything. Everything went wrong out there tonight.”
The rough edges of his voice sliced through the tired tension in the room. I dropped my head and out the corner of my eye, saw pretty much everyone was doing the same.
“What’s the point of me screaming my lungs out, telling you what to do, huh?” Coach paced the short length in front of us, forgetting Grayson and speaking to all of us. “You can’t pin it on Grayson when none of you rose up to the challenge. I expected more, and you let me down. You let yourselves down, and every one of your fans who wantsto see you lift that cup as much as you wanna lift it.”
He stopped and stared at me. My chest tightened. I was supposed to end the bad run that Trey had kicked off. Instead, I let them slip a fourth past me.
“Lose something, Callahan?”
My head snapped up. “Coach?”
“What are you looking for down there, when I’m over here talking to you?” He was seething, and it was all coming straight at me. “You came in when we needed you, and you did what we needed you to do. No shame in that.”
I blinked. Shocked, maybe even dumbfounded. “Bu– I didn’t save th–”
“You showed up,” Coach cut in. “Which is more than I can say about Trey. I hope you’re ready to keep it up for the rest of the season.”
Around me, the guys exchanged glances, confusion spreading like wildfire. Mason’s mouth opened, then closed again. Grayson raised his eyebrows, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“The season?”
