He skated toward our bench during the reset. “Time to pull it back.”
Grayson nodded once. “Already on it.”
The horn ended the period and we headed down the tunnel with the score sitting at two to one.
The locker room buzzed with that tight energy that built up during a game that was still wide open. Grayson leaned forward on the bench while the coaches ran through adjustments on the whiteboard.
“Keep the pressure on their defense,” he said, looking straight at me and Landon. “They can’t handle the pace.”
Second period started with Dallas pressing hard. Their center tried to control the middle of the ice, but Grayson cut off his lane while I chased the puck behind their net. Landon swooped in along the boards and stole it clean. He fired a pass through traffic that clipped my skate before sliding to Grayson.
He didn’t waste any time, and drove a bullet down the right side of the net.
The goalie stopped it but the rebound kicked straight to Landon waiting at the edge of the crease. He took the opportunity, and buried it.
The scoreboard flipped to three to one.
Landon skated backward with both hands raised while the crowd thundered behind him. Totally in his element as he soaked in the adoration of the fans.
“You’re welcome,” he said when we circled up.
The Stars came back swinging after that. Their defense joined the rush more often, forcing Tucker and Cash to stay tight infront of Hunter. One drive turned into a heavy collision along the boards that rattled the glass.
Cash shoveled the puck free, and I picked it up, charging up ice with Grayson pacing the left side. Their defense stepped up at the blue line, but our captain deftly cut inside. I slipped the puck through the narrow gap between their sticks and he blasted past them.
The shot cracked off the goalie’s pad and bounced wide. The disappointed groan from the crowd reverberated over the ice.
Grayson circled back and slapped the boards. “Thought that was in.”
“Next one,” I said.
Midway through the period, Dallas scored again during a scramble in front of the crease. Hunter got a piece of the first shot but the rebound slipped under his pad before anyone cleared it.
Three to two.
The arena went quiet, then Dallas fans found their voice.
The next shift turned into our best sequence of the night. Landon chased down a loose puck behind the Dallas net and flicked it up the boards. I caught it and pivoted toward the slot while their defenders scrambled.
Grayson glided into open ice, and I found him easily, feeding the puck as easy as a hot knife slicing through butter. His stick snapped through the shot and the puck blasted past the goalie before he set his feet.
The horn shook the rafters again.
Grayson turned toward me as the red light flashed behind the net. “That’s two.”
“Pick a number and we’ll make it happen.” I bumped his glove.
The period carried on with both teams trading rushes and hard shifts. Tucker blocked a heavy slapshot near the end and limped back to the bench while Cash held the line long enough for us to clear. When the horn finally ended the period the scoreboard showed four to two.
I skated toward the tunnel with Grayson beside me and Landon just ahead.
Grayson nudged my shoulder with his glove. “Keep that up in the third and they won’t touch us.”
The crowd stayed loud as we disappeared down the hallway, the ice still buzzing under my legs and the game waiting for the last twenty minutes.
In the locker room, the heat of the game came with us when we pushed through the doors. Jerseys peeled halfway off. Tape got tugged loose from wrists. The floor around the lockers turned into a scatter of gloves and water bottles. But nobody sat for long.
Energy rolled through the room in quiet bursts. Guys shifting gear, sticks tapping through conversation. Hunter leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs while the trainer checked the edge on one of his skates. Cash stood a few lockers down working fresh tape around his blade, pulling it tight with quick snaps of his wrist. And me in the middle of it all, not quite believing this was happening.
