I stayed rooted for a second longer, challenging Coach with a look that said everything. I didn’t want off. I was more effective right here, doing what I did best. If The Surge stood any chance at a comeback, it would need me at the center of it.
“I said roll!” Coach’s nostrils flared, and for a second it looked like he was about to come out and drag me from the ice himself.
An ocean of jeers ushered me toward the bench, and I glared at the man who’d caused it.
“They’re not pulling their weight out there, and it’s—”
“Sit down and shut the hell up.” The look on Coach’s face did more than his words ever could, and I sank down on the bench, tapping my stick against my skate.
“You’ve got the stuff, kid.”
I turned in the direction of the unfamiliar voice, and recognized the face instantly. An ex-Panthers player, seated right behind the players’ bench. Once he had my attention, he suddenly had a lot more to say.
“If you were wearing a Panthers jersey, you’d be starting every game and your ass would never warm a bench.”
His words coursed through me like a hot shot of adrenaline. Someone who saw my value. And if it came down to it, I didn’t owe The Surge anything. I had my career to think about.
“You trying to tell me something?” I asked, checking once to make sure Coach’s attention was glued to the ice as the timer ran out on our dismal first period.
The guy smirked. “Not my place. But I’d keep my phone close if I were you. Never know who’d be calling with an offer.”
“Ah, goddamn it.” Coach tossed his towel and stormed off without looking back.
First period done, and there was nothing on the board.
Bruised egos moped off the ice. I fell in line behind Grayson and Tucker, sparing a glance at the ex-Panthers guy before disappearing into the tunnel. His words looped in my head, drowning out the boos that followed us out. He was right; I was bigger than this. I didn’t deserve punishment for other players who couldn’t hold their own.
Then, halfway down the ramp to the locker room: “Don’t make me regret swapping out the end of my shift, rookie.”
Nicole’s giant foam finger slapped her friend in the face as she waved emphatically to get my attention. The friend scowled, swatting at the thing, but I burst out laughing. Not that funny, but… I don’t know. Maybe it was that funny.
Heading into the locker room, the first period’s failure evaporated. Coach had a lot to say, and he used his angry voice to say it. I barely noticed. Kept my head down, focused on retaping my blade, fixing my skates. There was a short speech from the captain too, but there was no room for words anymore. Words didn’t get the crowd hyped up. Words didn’t get the puck into the net.
The second period started with a clean faceoff win. Mason kicked the puck back, clean and controlled, and suddenly we were moving as a unit instead of five separate ideas. I cut wide, dragging a defender with me, and felt the space open before I consciously registered it.
The puck came off Grayson’s stick hard and flat. Not at my skates. Not behind me. Right on my blade.
I caught it in stride, pulled it across my body as the defenseman lunged, felt his stick glance off my shin pad instead of the puck. Their goalie dropped early. I waited. Let him commit. Then I snapped my wrists and sent it low, just inside the post, exactly where the ice had opened for half a second.
The net jumped, and Surge fans were on their feet. My pulse slammed back into my ears, riding the high.
That was better.
I pumped my stick in the air, riling them up even more as I did a victory lap with my team skating after me to slap my helmet or punch my arm. Mason barreled into me with a wide grin.
“About fucking time.”
I tapped his glove and lined up again. “Watch the dam walls break.”
But the Sharks didn’t fold. They pressed harder, tightened coverage, started finishing checks. A defenseman rode me into the boards on the next shift, shoulder catching my ribs, breathknocked loose. I stayed upright and shoved off, tracking the puck as it cycled high.
“Every hit comes back to you.” I gave him a hard shoulder-check as I skated past.
“Looking forward to it, rookie.”
Mason got it at the point, faked the shot, sent it down low instead. Grayson swooped in and crashed the net, pulling two bodies with him. That left the slot open.
I did what everyone inside the arena was yelling for me to do, and slid into it.
