He stood and retrieved his phone from the shelf in his stall and found his messages with Quinn, warmth filling him at the sight of the new one that had been sent ten minutes ago.
Quinn: I don’t know what to say because you puckheads are a superstitious bunch, but have fun tonight.
The words were nice, but seeing the heart emoji at the end of them was even better.
August: I’ll win this one for you
August: I love you
He didn’t wait for Quinn’s reply because he had a feeling he wouldn’t get one, so he put the phone away and went back to checking his gear.
“No tape today?” Ana from the medical staff asked him, gesturing at his knee.
“I think I rested it enough when I was off,” August replied, and he smacked his knee to help prove his point.
It still burned now and then, but most players had chronic aches and pains that they had to work through during the season.
“Alright…” Ana didn’t sound convinced, and the look she was giving him said that she would be watching him all night, but she dropped it and went to report back to her team.
The buzzing excitement increased as the minutes ticked down to the start of the first period. The hall felt too claustrophobic during lineup, especially with staff and media cameras pointed in his face. But the moment he touched the ice; all the noise becamequiet. It was just him, his team, and the puck united by one goal—victory.
August stood on the line, shifting his weight from foot to foot to keep his body warm while the anthems played. The fans were loud about his return, and August could feel their energy from the stands as the lights came on for the puck drop.
Niko bumped his shoulder before taking center ice as they glided into position for the opening draw. August could see Callahan alreadytracking matchups, and he knew they were in for a fun night with everyone so locked in, which immediately annoyed the Washington players.
“Looks like the Bigfoots let their mascot back on the ice,” said one of the guys on August’s left.
August rolled his eyes. He had heard that chirp a thousand times, and it was starting to get old.
The puck dropped, and Niko won the face-off, flicking it in Callahan’s direction.
“Here, come on!”
August instinctively reacted to his captain, shaking one of the Washington forwards off his tail as he raced down the ice with Niko close behind.
Dax was right, this team was shit. They left too many openings in their defence that were easy for a player like Niko to take advantage of. All it took was a basic feint to fumble the defenceman trying to block him, and then Niko was lined up to catch Callahan’s pass.
The play unfolded the way it always did when the three of them were on the ice: simple passes led by Callahan, Niko’s speed pushing them deeper into the Washington zone, and August’s strength dominating both physically and mentally.
They sent the Washington team scattering, and by the time the puck found August through traffic, it was over. August didn’t think—he tipped it on instinct, and the puck kissed the inside of the post and vanished behind the goalie.
For a split second, there was nothing. Then the goal horn detonated, and the quiet in his mind shattered.
Callahan had him in a headlock before August fully registered what he’d done, Niko yelling something incoherent in his ear as they collided near the boards. August laughed breathlessly, the sound tearing out of him before he could stop it.
One nothing. Control established in under sixty seconds.
Sorry, Eagles.
On the bench, Coach clapped him on the shoulder, and August took a long pull from his water bottle. Chest heaving, he turned and grinned at the man sitting behind the bench, who was studying him with pretty green eyes. Quinn made a show of sighing, like he thought August was being ridiculous, but he was smiling brightly to match him.
Not wanting to get caught up in all the emotions between them, August turned back to the ice for the next puck drop and held his breath.
“This team sucks,” said Niko, scowling like he was insulted by the show Washington was putting on so far. “They benched their only decent player; did you notice that?”
Yeah, he noticed, and it made August giddy to know they might have that decent player on their team before the trade deadline.
“Don’t let your guard down,” said August. He gestured toward the Washington players, who were answering the goal by applying pressure in the Vancouver zone. They were getting aggressive with their forechecks and throwing their bodies against others at the boards with intent, which was never a good sign.
