Page 46 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)

“Luckily for Hellstrom, I take line reassignments seriously. I spoke to him, and he’s okay with it for this game, but he knows it will happen again.”

Jett was so fast he could turn a play around before the opponent’s defence realized he had the puck.

Bracken was able to pull off half the passes he could because he expected Jett to be fast enough to find the open areas around the net.

Having two quick players paired with Bracken’s passes could win a game, but Cote …

“Park is an egotistical player,” said Adams. “Putting a rookie on the ice will throw him off more than anything else.”

“You’re planning on having Cote match shifts with Park?”

The Sunburst’s coach met his eyes for the first time, his lips twitching into a smile. “You are correct.”

Jett’s laughter lit up the room when his boyfriend took the ice. Harrison glanced toward him, and then to the young Niko Cote skating beside him.

What Adams was suggesting sounded crazy, but his outlandish tactics are what brought the team so close to winning last season.

Not many teams would dare give a rookie so much skate time, but the Sunburst team consisted of veteran players who wanted to win more than they wanted to fight for shifts, which would always put them in a better position to advance.

“That’s an elephant-sized amount of pressure to put on him,” said Harrison.

Adams held up his tablet and started flicking his finger over the screen.

“It’s good I have a consultant on my team who’s up for the challenge.

I watched you during that match against Jett in Nova Scotia.

You had very little to work with besides Townsend talent-wise, but you still walked away with the win.

Those guys fought for you that day. Whatever you told them—it worked. I need you to do that again.”

Well-played, coach. Well-played.

Once all the guys were on the ice and warmed up, Adams blew the whistle and gathered them to the bench.

His explanation was short and sweet, and left no room for arguments, of which there were none.

Everyone gave Cote pats on the back and words of encouragement, and Cote kept his expression determined.

Good, the kid was ready to play hockey .

He hit the ice with Jett and Bracken, taking up the left side of the rink while the rest of the team ran drills on the right. Powers waved at them from the net, and Harrison felt obligated to return the gesture.

He ignored Jett’s laughter and turned to Bracken and Cote.

“I’m not going to waste time here. Your coach is fucking crazy for trying to pull this off right before a game.

The three of you have to practice your passes and get a feel for each other in the limited hours we have.

You’ll be playing at a higher speed than with Hellstrom, so this is your chance to get comfortable. ”

“We’re going for speed against Park?” Bracken asked, looking hesitant. “Not defence?”

“Coach decided that offence would be a better defence against Park this time,” said Harrison.

“When you guys played defensively against the Conclaves last time, Wolf spent more minutes in the sin bin than on the ice. Coach also threw a bunch of math at me, but his statistics showed that most teams try for a defensive game nine times out of ten against the Conclaves, and Park fucks with them all.”

“Speed it is then,” Jett muttered. “We can’t lose any worse than we did last time.”

“You should have been here the year before you got drafted,” said Bracken. “Fifteen pucks went into our net thanks to Park. Our previous goalie, who was with us for eight years, retired, and Rose had to step up until we got Jace.”

Cote sucked in a breath. “I remember that game. You guys got slaughtered online by your fans, and riots broke out. I still have no idea how the Sunburst team managed to afford to draft Jett after that.”

“Worst team gets the best shot at first pick,” said Bracken, holding a fist up for Jett to bump. “Huzzah.”

Jett accepted the fist bump. “Good thing you guys were shit. This is the team I wanted to play for the most anyway.”

“Can’t imagine why,” said Bracken, shooting Harrison a look.

“Are you guys going to talk all day?” Powers shouted from the net. “I want to hear what you’re saying. Come closer!”

“Enough chatter,” said Harrison. “Let’s shoot some pucks at Powers to shut him up.”

“Hey! ”

Harrison blew his whistle just to fuck with him and moved to the side so he could observe. Bracken started at center ice with Jett on his right and Cote on his left, saying a few words to them before the whistle was blown, and an assistant coach dropped the puck.

The three of them ate up the ice, passing as fast as they could until they were in front of the goalie. Cote took the first shot and missed, sending the puck ringing off the bar and out of reach, where Jett picked it up.

They repeated this several times while Harrison watched, creating a mental list to review once he was ready. Cote struggled to keep up, which was expected when he was paired up with two guys who made it to the playoffs together.

When Cote’s shot missed for the fifth time, he cursed loudly and slapped his stick on the ice. He skated back to center, but Harrison stopped him.

“Cote.”

The rookie changed direction and came toward him, frowning with disappointment.

“Coach?”

“Not a coach,” said Harrison. “Why are you struggling to catch Bracken’s passes?”

“Because I fucking suck, obviously,” said Cote.

“You’re getting this pissed after playing for less than thirty minutes?” Harrison crossed his arms over his chest, giving the kid a look he normally reserved for Arlo. “Kinda sad.”

Cote’s dark skin flushed with shame and embarrassment. “Bracken gives misdirected passes that are hard to follow. I’m used to making eye contact, or a cue that the puck is coming my way. I need time to catch on.”

“Bracken has won games with those passes,” said Harrison. “If you think it’s hard to guess where the puck is coming from, try being on the other team.”

Cote said nothing.

Harrison sighed. “Cote, when you helped win that game against Calgary, did you struggle to find the puck when Bracken passed it to you?”

A head shake.

“Why is that? Do you remember? ”

The kid made a face, like he had swallowed something sour. Fuck, he was barely out of high school.

“I went for the net, and the puck appeared when I needed it too.”

“Close,” said Harrison. “The puck appeared when Bracken saw you were open and had a clean shot at the net. He doesn’t make passes, he makes goal-scoring assists. Which means if you put yourself in the best position to score, the puck will find you.”

Cote tapped his skates to the ice, fidgeting restlessly. “I know, but it’s hard to play half-blind.”

“You need more experience,” said Harrison.

“And you need to have faith that your captain will get the puck to you if he thinks you can shoot it in the net. Stop looking at his face and watch the puck instead. And if you feel like you’re not getting it, stand back and watch how Jett receives his passes. ”

“Fraser doesn’t even slow down enough to catch those passes.”

“I know,” said Harrison. “Because he knows as long as he breaks through the opposing team’s defence and gets in front of the net, Bracken will get him the puck.”

“Okay, fine.” Cote looked tense, but not because he was angry or frustrated. “Let me try again. I’ll figure this out.”

Harrison nodded and let him go. He knew there was a reason Adams wanted Cote on the first line, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t take long to see why.

The next attempt failed—and the one after that—but Cote didn’t lose his temper again or show any signs of frustration.

It wasn’t until the third try that a puck finally got past Powers and into the net.

Bracken and Jett skated to Cote’s side to celebrate, maybe too obnoxiously, but Harrison allowed it while he skated to the other side of the rink to meet with the rest of the team, who were shooting at Rose.

“Killinger, what brings you to our side of the rink?” Wolf asked, smiling widely. “You come to give us Schnecke tips so we can keep up with the fast ones over there?”

Harrison didn’t know what a Schnecke was, but he was sure he understood what Wolf was hinting .

“No point in trying to fix something that can’t be changed,” said Harrison, ignoring the frown that quickly formed on Wolf’s perfect European face. “But I think you’ll enjoy what I have planned next.”

When he explained what it was, all the guys lit up with excitement, including Wolf, who was trying to keep his scowl going.

“I thought you were building confidence up, not bending it over to fuck it,” said Wolf, earning himself a wave of laughter. “That’s what Coach told you to do, no?”

“The kid got one puck in the net,” said Harrison. “Confidence built. Time to play and learn for real now. No point in going easy on them, not when there’s no time.”

Wolf was hard to read, especially when his default settings were anger, flirting or sarcasm, but he came over to Harrison to give him a couple of claps on the shoulder.

“I like you, Killinger. You are funny guy. I’m starting to see why our little ferret likes you so much.”

Harrison smirked. “That and other reasons.”

“Oh Jesus,” said Hellstrom. “Let’s keep the focus on hockey, guys. Wolfy can choose another time to get pointers for his bi-awakening.”

“Is not awakening,” said Wolf. “I told you this, Ivan, what matters is the face, not is what is between their legs.”

“And the tits,” said Cormier as he skated past. “Guys or girls, you never shut up about them.”

“Tits, yes,” Wolf drawled. His eyes flicked over Harrison appreciatively. “Can’t forget those.”