Another quick mobility run-through. I lifted, rotated, flexed. There was still discomfort, but—holy shit—less sting, less warning fire.
“You were right before, when you said you weren’t a doctor.” I pulled my shirt over my head. “You’re a wizard.”
“Wrong again. But you’re welcome.” She gave me a slight shove toward the door. “Now get out of here. I have work to do before the game starts.”
I paused in the doorway. “Tonight’s win is dedicated to you, Gandalf.”
“So now I’m an old guy with a really long stick?”
“No, but you’ve got a little whisker action going on. Just there…” I pointed to her chin.
The closest thing within reach was the pencil tumbler on her desk. It came whizzing straight at me, contents spraying across the floor. But with the pain in my arm subsided, I managed to duck out of the way just in time.
“You missed me,” I called, breaking into a jog to get the rest of my stuff and hit the ice.
We coasted in the game like we knew we would, the forwards moving the puck with barely any contest to write home about. The Coyotes fell back part way through the first period, conceding two goals, and they never really recovered. Better than that, was the fact I could actually enjoy it. Reese’s tape job meant I wasn’t calculating every reach like it was a death trap.
“I save the next one, and drinks are on you,” Hunter said, drifting along the face of his net, waiting for the action to come to him.
“No fair. Coach’s seven-year-old niece could save the shots coming at you tonight.”
“I thought she was four,” he said with a laugh.
“She is,” I replied, catching Tucker’s eye. The heat was on, and he was summoning me. “She’s also five, six… Here comes another.”
The slight scuffle against the boards was over, and Grayson cut into the slot, watching Mason who slid the puck up the wing. I stayed tight on my man, pushing just enough to keep him honest. The shot went off fast, snapping past the goalie’s glove with that satisfying thwack. Another goal, and some more swagger from Grayson as he skated back to reset.
The Coyotes tried to respond, but I met their first break with a clean poke along the boards, sliding the puck back to Tucker. Even though my arm felt okay, I was still careful to keep overextending down to a minimum. Only when absolutely necessary.
A scramble in front of the net had me dropping low to shove a winger just enough to redirect his angle. He stumbled off balance, and I swept the puck up, sending it toward Mason who was already streaking down the right wing.
Grayson circled back, eyes on the pass, but was clearly feeling generous, because he passed it back to his partner, who’d swooped in from the right. Coyotes defense got caught in a blender of mistimings and miscommunication. One touch, and Mason ripped it in. The net rattled. Clean. Quick. Efficient. Exactly how we’d practiced it, only now it wasn’t just mechanics. This was the real deal.
There was space to breathe, to take our time with plays instead of just reacting. And we weren’t the only ones having a blast. Coach almost cracked a smile a few times.
By the third, the Coyotes weren’t even trying to mount anything. I skated the blue line with minimal strain, letting Tucker handle shots that would’ve had me bracing last week. Ipassed, checked, pivoted, and felt the difference. My body was actually cooperating. Not totally free from pain, but behaving enough so I didn’t look like a chump on the ice.
I looked over to the bench just as the final buzzer went, and found Reese staring at me. While the guys piled on each other in celebration of our comfortable win, I gave her a quick salute. She had her reservations about this arrangement, but after tonight, I didn’t see a downside.
Until we got back to the locker room and the painkillers started wearing off.
“How are you still not showered?” Hunter wore his favorite accessory… Holly.
She had her arm hooked through his, and now pulled him closer. “I heard you’re buying tonight.”
“I heard there were strict conditions to that clause,” I replied, and even managed to glare at Hunter so he didn’t pick up on the discomfort I was currently in.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault Coyotes were allergic to the goal posts. No shots were made, but you could technically say my presence saved every potential goal.”
“Sounds like you’re technically full of shit.”
The usual suspects were heading out, and they called for Hunter. He gave me one look, and shook his head slowly. “I’m not gonna hang around. Meet you there?”
I was looking at them, but my mind kept catching on the heat becoming more and more distinct in my shoulder. Discomfort now, agony in about five minutes. Maybe even less.
“Sure, I’ll see you there.” I didn’t have the balls or bandwidth to cancel to his face. Especially not with Holly right beside him, her studying gaze fixed on me.
Something in his look told me he knew I was lying though, but he didn’t push or give me a hard time about it. Just said he’ll catch me later, and left with the rest of the guys.
