Jamie shouted, his voice already going hoarse, and joined his teammates as they embraced Cooper. “Attaboy, Coop! Let’s keep it going!”
When the horn signaled the end of the first period, the guys made the long trek to their locker room. Spirits were high, and everyone was focused on doing what they needed to keep their bodies fresh. Jamie had a banana and an electrolyte drink, and worked his way around the room.
The guys looked good out there. They were all playing at their best. He didn’t need to do more than encourage them to keep it up. He avoided talking to Anders, settling for a stick tap to the goalies’ pads. Jamie had played with him long enough to know he preferred to be left alone between periods.
The second period passed in a blur. The energy from the crowd kept them all buzzing, and when Jamie scored again on a breakaway, he thought he was going to collapse under the weight of Mitch jumping into his arms.
“I’m not even out here trying to score,” he said, laughing as he pressed his helmet to his best friends’.
Sweat glistened on Mitch’s forehead as he grinned at Jamie. “You’re out here playing hockey, Sully. Sometimes playing hockey means shooting the damn puck.”
He thought about what Mitch said as he skated by the bench for another round of high-fives. Earlier in the season, he’d beendesperate to score, constantly thinking about how he was going to get the puck in the net.
Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten the kind of play that had earned him his spot in the league. The kind of play that had earned him a captaincy.
Scoring chances came when Jamie played his game. When he played hard defense, when he did his job, scoring chances presented themselves. When he forechecked, giveaways happened.
“Hatty watch for the captain!” Ollie yelled from the bench, pointing his stick at Jamie.
Jamie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
Getting two goals was one thing, but a hat trick?
He snorted, amused.No fucking way was that going to happen.
His main job was to keep Egorov contained. He’d gotten a few good chances this period, and Jamie was determined to keep him pointless.
With three minutes left in the third period, the Muskies led by one goal.
Minnesota was pounding them, rotating between their top two lines, playing with tangible desperation as they did whatever they could to score. Jamie had forgotten he was capable of sweating this much, and he could barely keep his visor clear with all the condensation from his heaving breaths.
Minnesota transitioned the puck, and Jamie skated back on defense. He saw the moment the goalie took off for the bench, shouting “Empty net, boys,” as he picked up a forward, stretching his stick into the passing lane.
As soon as the extra skater joined them in their zone, Minnesota started working around the perimeter. They were patient, passing the puck, waiting for the Muskies to get out ofposition, hoping to draw them out until their defense inevitably broke down.
Jamie looked up at the clock. Two and a half minutes left.
Yeah, fuck that.
He trusted his teammates would have his back if he took a defensive gamble. If he played it right, it could win them the game.
The moment Egorov got the puck on his stick, Jamie skated at him hard. It wasn’t the smart thing to do–it would have been easy for a guy to use Jamie’s momentum against him and skate past him toward the net. But he managed to catch him off guard, and after only a few seconds of grappling, Jamie had the puck on his stick.
He skated hard down the ice, head on a swivel as he looked for a teammate to dish the puck to.
There was a flash of maroon in the corner of his eye–a Minnesota player coming at him.
He glanced around again, before looking ahead up the ice and–
The net was empty.
It was too easy, really. He slowed down just enough to drop the puck back on his stick. With an exhale, Jamie set his feet and took the shot from mid-ice.
He felt a desperate tap of the Minnesota players’ stick against his skate, but it was too late.
The puck skittered over the ice. When the lamp lit and the horn sounded, the stadium erupted. The fans’ cheers filled the early evening air, and Jamie was surrounded by a mob of screaming men, his teammates and brothers, who sounded happier for him than he was for himself.
Hats rained down on the ice, tossed by the fans over the glass. The players all skated to their benches to wait for the ice to be cleaned up, and Jamie leaned back against the boards, looking over the scattered hats on the ice.
