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“That’s two!” I shouted over the noise. “Think you can get three tonight?”

Sabrina glanced up at the screen. Then she fixed a wicked grin on me that made me glad yet again that I was leaning some of my weight on her instead of balancing on my skates. “Hell, yeah. Let’s do it.”

Oh, yeah. We were doing it. We had seventeen minutes left in regulation. New York would be on her now that she was on hatty watch, but I had faith.

After fist bumps, Sims and I went to the bench along with Sabrina’s line so some fresh bodies could come out. A couple of shifts later, Sabrina and her linemates were back out. About thirty seconds after that, Coach sent Sims and me to join them as the exhausted third D pair peeled off to come back to the bench.

We swung our legs over the boards and hurried toward the offensive zone, where the forwards were setting up.

Sims hung back by the point, and I skated closer to the action, watching the puck and my teammates. Anastasia passed it to me, and I sent it to Sims just to throw off New York’s skaters. She sent it to Sabrina.

An opposing player managed to steal the puck mid-pass, and she darted toward the neutral zone. I followed, but something caught on my boot and I went flying, and the whistle blew beforeI’d even landed on my chest and forearms with a grunt. It wasn’t a bad fall—not fun, but my gear did its job.

As I got up and dusted myself off, a player was arguing with a linesman. The crowd booed, and New York’s coach was shouting something that looked like“Embellishment!”

Embellishment, my ass. You trip someone going as fast as I was, some airtime was a guarantee.

The ref made a gesture that I recognized as a warning to stop yapping unless the coach wanted a bench penalty.

Ooh, keep yapping. Let’s make it a five-on-three. C’mon, Coach. I dare you.

She wisely shut her mouth, though. She clearly wasn’t happy about it, and I was surprised smoke hadn’t started curling out her ears, but she didn’t continue arguing with the ref.

Fine. Five-on-four, then. We could handle that.

On the way into the offensive zone for the faceoff, Sabrina gave me two taps on the elbow. I nodded and skated over to pass the same gesture on to Sims. It was our sign for a set play from the faceoff. It was a risky one, but it could be deadly if it worked.

Sabrina won the faceoff and sent the puck to Sims. Sims headed for the blue line, ostensibly to set up at the point, but then—at least as it would appear to everyone watching—she lost control of the puck.

Predictably, the player who’d been skating after her doubled her efforts, lunging for the puck.

While that skater was slightly off balance, Sims seized the puck back and sent it past her, right onto my tape. I immediately passed it to Laws, who shot it between another skater’s legs.

Sabrina was right at the edge of the crease. Both she and the goalie went for the puck, but Sabrina was faster. She snatched it away before it even reached the edge of the crease. The goalie had dived for the puck, and she couldn’t get back up in time to stop Sabrina’s shot.

For the third time tonight, the red light came on for Sabrina. Our fans drowned out the booing New York fans. Usually, there were only a few hats if someone scored a hat trick at an away game. Tonight, though, the crowd was full of Pittsburgh fans, and hats rained down all around us.

Sabrina had the first hat trick in Pittsburgh Bearcats history. Her first as a professional.

There was a time not too long ago when I’d have been rolling my eyes and resenting the fact that she was the one to notch that record.

Tonight, though, I knew who she was and where she’d come from. I was glad she was the one to get our first hatty. She’d worked hard. She deserved it.

As the ice crew collected hats while a few more fluttered down, the goalie and one of the skaters tried to scream about goaltender interference, but two of the officials had had unobstructed views of the goal. Sabrina’s skates and stick never crossed into the blue paint, and she never interfered with the goalie’s ability to protect the goal. It was a good, clean goal, and the refs weren’t about to review it.

When the Jumbotron showed the replay—yeah, no, there was no goaltender interference. The only reason Sabrina had hindered the netminder’s ability to do her job was that the netminder herself had come out of the crease, and as she’d tried to make the save, her stick had tangled with Sabrina’s legs. If anything, she was lucky she didn’t get a penalty for tripping Sabrina; then again, if Sabrina had fallen like any other player would have in that scenario, the coaches would’ve lost their minds about embellishment all over again.

Ugh, teams like this were exhausting and so were their fans. Not every goal against was a product of goaltender interference, and not every penalty was embellished. Get a grip.

But then the ref skated to the blue line, and the whole arena went silent.

“New York is challenging the goal for goaltender interference.”

A mix of cheers and boos went up. Everyone on the Pittsburgh bench exchanged “is she for real?” looks.

The officials went to the penalty box and pulled on their headphones, and they reviewed the goal for an alarmingly long time.

“That’s not good,” I muttered to Sabrina.