“Foster,” Davidson ’s captain voice startles me as I walk away from my cubby. “No goals tonight, right?”
“No biscuits are getting by me tonight, Cap.”
“That’s what I want to hear.”
I finish my ritual in a quiet corner of the locker room before we take to the ice for warm-ups—a deep butterfly position, one puck balancing on each leg pad edge, arms in front of me with my stick in hand, and count to twenty, five times. I can’t even remember when I started this, but it works to center me beforea game. The first dozen or so times, my pucks dropped until I perfected it. Since then, I haven’t lost my focus and dropped a single one.
This is game six in the conference finals, and we’re down 3-2. If the Cougars win one more game, we’re out. Everything is riding on tonight. Before I left the apartment, Bryce wanted to ‘help me relax’ with a quickie. I had to remind him I don’t have any kind of sex before a game—another superstition of mine. Most of the guys say sex clears their heads and helps them focus, but it just makes me want to sleep for hours. Instead, I gave him a blowjob but left without letting him come. I think they call that wedging. Something new Bryce taught me last week. It’s a fun game I like to play with him now, but I’m not sure why they call it wedging. Am I supposed to give him a wedgie afterward? That would be weird. I remind myself to ask Bryce again. I want to make sure I’m doing it right.
“Foster, let’s go,” Mickells bellows from the other room, making me lose focus. One of my pucks drops, and my gut clenches right away.
“Fuck!” It had to happen tonight of all nights. Fucking Mickells.
I make my way out onto the ice with dread gnawing at my stomach, knowing this isn’t going to go well. When the team starts hitting pucks my way and I miss half of them, I know the juju is off. Davidson is watching me as I glide my stick along Piper from one end of the net’s red pipes to the other, then around my crease, tap twice, and spray some water. That should get rid of the bad vibes surrounding me.
The Cougars win the face-off, and I’m on alert right away, but the boys do a good job getting it back quickly. We’re well into the first period when they score their first goal on me, shooting one that hits the corner of my blocker and tips into the back of the net instead. I refrain from swearing while they celebrate soas not to hurt Piper’s feelings. I ward away the bad juju again, spraying my water just in time to get into position. In the last minute of the first period, Meyers from the Cougars gets lucky with a breakaway and comes right at me. I brace myself, honed in on the puck when he dekes left and then lights the lamp with a backhand shot, ending the period with us down by two.
Walking through the tunnel, I can hear Cap behind me swearing under his breath. We get back to the lockers, and I drop my gloves, take my mask off, and run my fingers through my sweaty hair. Sitting on the bench, half-listening to Coach, my temples begin to ache. I try to block out the lecture we’re getting until Davidson makes his way to the center of the room. Headache or not, I pay attention to his pep talk—I need it now more than ever.
Unfortunately, we don’t play much better in the second period, having scored one goal to the Cougars’ two in response. Mickells really fucked up my frame of mind. During second intermission, I take a few minutes for myself.
The phone rings once, and a concerned Bryce answers.
“Hey, babe. Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“Are you watching?”
“Yeah, we have the game on here.”
“Mickells fucked up my routine, and I’m all…off.”
“Why don’t you go meditate for five minutes before you go back out on the ice? That usually helps, right?”
“I’ll try. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“You got this.” I wish I could be as confident as he sounds. “And if it doesn’t happen for you tonight, you’re still an incredible player and my favorite goalie in the world.”
I try to smile even though he can’t see me, but Davidson shows up at the door.
“What’re you doing hiding in the bathroom?” he says before he notices me on the phone and apologizes.
“I’m coming out now. Be right there.” When he nods and leaves, I take a deep breath. “Okay, I need to get going. I love you, Oz.”
“I love you, beautiful. Go kick some ass and stop some pucks.” I end the call feeling a little better than when it started.
“Hey.”
“Shit, you scared me,” I say to Davidson as he laughs obnoxiously loudly.. Why are you creeping outside the bathroom door? Cap, you’re in an awfully good mood for us being down by three.”
“Gotta stay positive, right? We aren’t out of this yet, so don’t give up on us, okay?”
“Never.” I throw on my mask, and Cap taps it with his gloved hand, adding the last bit of ‘oomph’ I need after Bryce’s pick-me-up.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bryce
Idon’t know how guys wear these things. I feel like my balls are being squeezed by a vise. It’s worth the pain if it’s going to put a smile on his face, though. I bought it as a celebratory gift, but it’s turned into a consolation prize. I texted him to see if he was coming straight home, but he said he was going out for one drink with Emmett—that was two hours ago. I hope he’s not too drunk to enjoy his present, because I need this just as badly as he does.
