The rest of the game was a blur of purple and green. It moved fast. The puck streaking up the ice, Gauthier on breakaways, a power play against us when Minns threw down after a Dallas defenseman got Hux a little too up close and personal with the boards, a goal from Gauthier, more than a few saves by Rune.
Thousands of voices rose, swelling in a deafening cheer. It filled the air, vibrating the ice below our feet when the Stars’ forwards battled it out with Rune and Mironov in a clatter of sticks in front of the crease. I watched Rune as he followed the players, not the puck. The tightening of every muscle, the minute rotation of a knee or a hip, the hitch of an elbow or drop of a shoulder. The puck snapped between each of them until Gauthier got it free. I flew up the inside again, sliding in behind him as he lunged forward, dodging a Dallas defender. He slung the puck to me, and I broke away, clear ice in front of me.
My heart pounded. My thighs burned. My wrists and toes ached. My lungs filled with the biting cold air. A flicker behind me. Hux. A defender appeared on the other side. I shot the puck to Hux, and he caught it, tape-to-tape.
He returned it a moment later, the solidthwackon the blade of his stick whispering the puck over the ice straight to me. A perfect pass. I dug my blades in, turning on a dime, and shotit to Gauthier. We were neck and neck, the scores tied. Minutes counted down into the single digits. This was our chance.
Gauthier deked right, passed left to Hux. He slapped it to me. I slid it to Minns, each of us avoiding Dallas’s defense and gaining ground toward the crease.
Hux worked his magic, that foresight he seemed to have putting him in the right position every time. Minns sent a wrister straight to him, and like Hux was in a game of baseball, he swung his stick and connected with the puck. A crack echoed over the ice, and I watched the vibration hum up his stick, wobbling it as he launched the puck toward the goalie.
I held my breath.
The goalie slapped it away, sending the puck back into play. I scrambled, trying to deke it out of reach of the Stars’ forward. But Hux was there. He shouldered the forward and slotted the puck straight onto his stick.
Gauthier took the pass, then slung it straight back to Hux when he was open. This time would be it.
He went in hard and fast, streaking along the ice in front of the crease. I almost didn’t see the hit. It was barely a flick of his wrist. But it was enough. It sailed straight through the goalie’s legs in the millisecond before he slid into the splits.
The horn sounded. Imagine Dragons filled the air. I slammed into Hux, our bodies colliding. “Fuck yeah!” I shouted.
We won, and our locker room was on fire. The guys were buzzing, riding a high. Wads of balled up tape sailed across the room. Gatorade stung my eyes as Minns shook his bottle over me. I laughed, whooping and throwing my hands above my head. It was only a pre-season game. It didn’t count for anything. But it also did.
Sweat and the stench of ripe gear filled the room. Minns hit Play on a party mix, and the heavy bass reverberated through theroom. Cheers, Rune beatboxing, and Hux standing on the bench twerking hit me. This was everything.
Gauthier shouted something to Mironov.
“All right, all right,” Coach yelled. The music stopped. The room quietened. “You did good, boys. This is the beginning. This is our season.Yourseason, boys.”
Whoops and cheers lit up the room.
I closed my eyes and let the waves of noise and togetherness crash over me. My team. My brothers. My family.
We had one more game left in the pre-season.
We were wheels-up out of Texas a few hours after the game. I would have liked to have gone home, seen Mom and Noah even just for a meal, but there was no time. We shifted from chaotic celebrations into the manic rush of postgame rituals. Bike ride, cooldown weights, deep stretches, and then the showers.
Our final pre-season game was against the Hurricanes in their home barn, and I couldn’t fuckin’ wait.
***
There were a few days between the end of the pre-season and the beginning of the season proper. Almost like a slow inhale before madness set in. I’d be living out of a duffel bag for the majority of the season, with only short stretches at home. But I loved it. I especially loved it with this team.
It was the last chance Spencer and I had to have nearly a whole uninterrupted day to ourselves. I was heading home to spend it naked with him as soon as we wrapped our training session. We’d already reviewed the tape from last night’s game, and Coach wanted to nail down a few of our weaknesses.
“Right, that’s it,” Coach announced and turned up the lights in the room. “Gear up.”
I slid my slides back onto my feet and stretched out my back, cracking my neck from side to side. Stuffing my hands in my hoodie pocket, I grinned at Rune, who yawned like he was waking up from a nap.
“Sleep well?” I teased.
“Shut it. I was up late last night.”
“So was I.” I wiggled my brows and mimicked giving a blow job.
He flushed pink, chuckled, and shook his head. “You’re a menace.”
“Eh, you learn to live with it, and if that doesn’t work, you get Spencer to shut me up.”
