And he does score, two shifts later. But then Eddie fumbles a puck with seconds left in the second period. It bounces off his chest and he scrambles to catch it, but it hits his glove and bounces out, over his shoulder and into the net. Our net. He fucking scored on himself.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck!” Coach Schneider barks.
Levi and Jude both let out a “For fuck’s sake!”
Beside me on the bench Duncan snickers, and I smack his helmet with my hand to get him to shut it. Seconds before the period ends, Coach shuffles down the bench. “You’re in for the third, Casco. Be ready!”
That calm I was getting used to wavers a little, but I nod, and when the whistle blows I march down the tunnel first, and skip the locker room, heading to an empty medical room to give myself a minute to prepare. I concentrate on holding on to that sense of normalcy. That calm and control.
The locker room next door is pretty silent, as is usually the case when we’re losing. I can hear people talking as they walk by—trainers and staff. I stay in there until I hear Lu Price call my name. I take a deep breath and step out into the hall. He looks at me with his hawklike features, his expression cool. “You good?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
The team starts filtering out and toward the tunnel, and I fall in step next to Levi. He bangs his helmet against mine. “Get us out of this mess.”
I nod.
We’re ten minutes through the period and I’ve stopped four shots. In that time Jude and Levi both score. We’re one away from a tie, and our team definitely has the momentum. The thing is, the Saints know it too, so they’re playing more frantically. Before I know it they’ve got the puck and they’re back in our zone.
I block two more shots, and I dive to catch a rebound while a Saints player lunges for it. Darby cross-checks him in the back and he tumbles over me. The puck flies free and everyone scrambles down the ice except Duncan and the Saints guy, who have decided to continue their shoving match in my crease. I start to get up at the same time the Saints guy tries to punch Duncan, but he loses his balance and some part of him, I’m not sure which part, hits me near the bottom of my mask. Hard. I feel cool air waft against the skin where my neck meets my jaw. It’s startling. I reach up. My plastic neck protector is off. I drop my stick and frantically search for the plastic piece in my crease.
I don’t give a fuck about the game, I only give a fuck about my neck. Behind my eyes, as I look at the ice, I see flashes of the bloodstained ice from that day. I can almost feel the warm stickiness against my palm.
Luckily Duncan is in a full-on brawl with the Saints guy now and the refs have stopped play and are fully involved in trying to break it up. Hopefully the crowd and TV cameras are too, because I know I look like a panicked child right now. I see it. It somehow ended up inside my net. I reach down and grab it. When I stand back up I feel a hand on my shoulder. It’s Levi, concerned brown eyes staring at me from under his visor. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I bark and shrug off his hand as I grab my stick and skate swiftly across the ice. I hold up the piece so the coach knows what’s going on as I step off the ice. The equipment manager, Allen, rushes over and we stand next to the crowded bench trying to reattach the damn thing. I’m breathing heavy, like I’ve been skating laps around the ice. My heart feels like it’s trying to crack my rib cage wide open.
“The fucking thing is broken,” he announces. “Do you want to go without or—”
“He’s not going without. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Coach Schneider snaps at Allen, and then he turns to Eddie. “You’re back in while they fix his equipment, which better not take long.”
Allen scurries down the tunnel, and I follow along as quickly as I can on skates. The whole time I’m struggling to breathe normally. It’s so bad now I’m almost panting. Fucking hell. I wait in the hall, just next to the tunnel, while he runs down to the equipment room. My eyes are closed, but as soon as I hear the clicking of heels on the concrete they fly open. She’s walking down the hall toward me in a tight black pencil skirt and a soft pink blouse, a bunch of papers in her hand. Her eyes are on me, absorbing every inch of my demeanor, which I know must be radiating chaos.
She pulls her eyes from mine and glances up and down the hall. It’s empty. She stops directly in front of me, a few feet away. “You’re okay.”
It’s not a question. She’s stating it in a calm, even tone.
We stare at each other in silence. My eyes slide over her beautiful face, and the calm confidence of her expression seeps into me, making it possible to take a deep breath. I glance down the hall. Still empty.
I’m moving faster than I ever thought possible on skates and weighed down with pounds of equipment. I haul her into the empty, dark medical room and before she has time to stop me I press her back into the wall and cover her mouth with my own. She fights me at first, dropping her papers and pushing against my shoulders. But it doesn’t last long and in seconds her arms are wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. When I try to break the kiss, she bites my bottom lip lightly. I press into her and slide my tongue back into her mouth.
“Casco?!”
The voice in the hall is loud and panicked. We jump apart like a bomb has gone off, and I leave her there in the dark and walk out into the hall. Allen sees me and marches over with the new neck guard. “I thought you fucking went to play without it, and Coach clearly doesn’t want you to do that.”
“I don’t want to do it,” I reply as he hurriedly ties the guard onto my helmet. “If my jugular can be sliced with this thing on, imagine what would happen without it.”
“Yeah, dude, I saw that video, and it was brutal.” Allen finishes tying the guard, and I nod and rush back down the tunnel.
While I was gone Duncan scored and tied it up.
“Casco thirty-five!” Coach Schneider barks, using my number to differentiate between me and Levi. “You’re in next whistle. Good?”
“Good!” I call back.
My breathing is normal, my pulse steady. I’m okay. Just like Dixie said.
