Hat trick.
The arena goes dead quiet for a second, that moment of disbelief before reality sets in. Even the Calgary fans have to acknowledge it. Then our bench explodes.
This time I don’t just point. I blow her a kiss, making sure she sees it, making sure she knows exactly what I’m doing.
Juliette’s face goes red. She’s shaking her head but she’s grinning, caught between mortification and something else. She sits down and presses her hands to her temples like she’s getting a headache and mouths something at me, I catch the end of it and wink at her.
Three.
The thought makes my head spin. Three’s already ambitious. Three’s already going to be a long night for both of us.
My teammates are all over me. Dex lifts me off my skates in a bear hug. Brody’s screaming directly in my ear. Anderson’s laughing and shaking his head.
“Hat trick, baby!” Almardon shouts from the bench, pounding his stick on the boards.
I tap my stick in acknowledgment and skate back to the bench, legs feeling like they could go for days.
Barrett meets me with a rare smile. “Hell of a game, Rodriguez.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“You got more in the tank?”
Do I? My legs feel perfect. My lungs are clear. The puck’s finding me like we’re glued to each other.
“Yeah, Coach. I got more.”
“Good. Because they’re going to start keying on you even harder now. Use it. Draw them to you and find the open man.”
“Yes, Coach.”
But I’m not thinking about finding the open man. I’m thinking about finding the back of the net again. And again.
I glance at the clock. Still three minutes left in the second period. The whole third period after that.
Plenty of time.
I look up at the family section again. Juliette’s sitting now, talking to Goldie, but I can see the way she keeps fidgeting, the way her leg is bouncing, the way she won’t stop glancing at me.
She’s thinking about it. About three. About whether I’ll get four.
I’m definitely getting four.
The second period ends 3-1.We head to the locker room and the energy is electric. Everyone’s hyped, the win feeling close enough to taste. Guys are laughing, chirping each other, the usual chaos when things are going our way.
“Rodriguez is putting on a fucking clinic out there,” Brody announces to the room, slapping my shoulder.
“Just seeing the ice well tonight.”
“Seeing it well? You’re fucking clairvoyant.” Dex collapses on the bench next to me. “What’re you at, seventeen minutes of ice time? Three goals? Coach is gonna ride you all third period.”
“Good. I’m not tired.”
“You should be. You’ve been flying around out there like someone lit your ass on fire.”
“Maybe someone did,” Anderson says with a knowing look.
“Maybe someone promised him something,” Brody adds. “Rodriguez, what’d you tell your girl? New car if you score four?”
