Page 132 of Offside Angle

We’re down three with half a period left, Vanguard is still coming at us, and somewhere behind my shoulder Elias is trying to remember that losing a hockey game and losing Damian are not the same thing.

Right now, I’m not sure he can.

Damian doesn’t give Elias much time to recover. “You’re sitting.”

Elias’s head snaps up so fast I hear his neck crack. “What?”

“You’re benched.”

The panic on his face transforms almost instantly into outrage, which is honestly an improvement.

“You’re benching me?” His voice cracks anyway. “In the third period of a Finals game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Sit. Down.” Damian doesn’t raise his voice, but something in it stops Elias cold.

For a second they just stare at each other, Elias still breathing too hard, eyes wet and furious while his hands tighten around the edge of the bench.

Then Damian leans closer. “You need to watch us play without you.”

Elias’s expression twists. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve convinced yourself this game is sitting on your shoulders again.” Damian gestures toward the ice. “It isn’t.”

Elias opens his mouth, but Damian keeps going before he can interrupt.

“We’re down because we’re getting outplayed tonight. Not because you failed everybody. Not because you didn’t skate hard enough. And certainly not because you’re supposed to save us by yourself.”

The fight starts draining out of Elias’s face, leaving him looking exhausted instead.

Damian’s voice softens, but only slightly. “So you’re going to sit here for a few shifts and watch your team keep playing without you. Maybe then your brain will finally believe what the rest of us already know.”

Elias stares at him, angry and scared and embarrassed enough that I almost feel bad for watching.

Around us, the bench has gone unnaturally quiet. Even the guys coming off the ice keep their mouths shut as they sit down, everyone suddenly finding somewhere else to look.

Elias’s jaw tightens, and I can practically see another ten arguments lining up behind his teeth. Apparently none of them survive Damian’s expression, because he drops back onto the bench.

Damian holds his gaze for another second before turning toward the ice and immediately going back to the game, calling the next change with the same ruthless focus he had before benching his captain in the third period of the fucking Finals.

My pair gets called, and I push to my feet.

As I pass Elias, I reach down and drag my hand once through his curls, rough enough to annoy him but not enough to make a production out of it.

His shoulders tighten under the touch.

Then I’m over the boards with Viktor, digging my edges into the ice and getting back to work.

The rest of the period is a slow bleed. We push, we hit, we try to create something out of nothing, but Vanguard is locked in. They protect the lead like their lives depend on it. Every time we get a look, their goalie is there. Every time we try to force a turnover, they clear it clean. The clock keeps draining and the arena keeps getting louder.

With under a minute left, Damian pulls Shane for the extra attacker. We throw everything we have at them. Cole rings one off the post. Viktor takes a shot from the point that gets blocked. I crash the net and nearly get a stick on a rebound, but their defenseman clears it out of the zone and the final horn sounds before we can get it back.

4–1.

Final.