Page 79 of Breaking the Ice

He kept saying this stuff. Talking about how other teams, particularly NHL teams, were dividing up their good players. If Gavin brought up the Penguins’ two-headed monster one more time, Zach was going to scream. Or pin him against the boards and kiss him so hard his mouth would be red and wet and bruised for a week.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Zach said.

“They need a better leader out there.” Gavin sounded annoyed.

“Those guys are all just young.” They were all freshman and sophomores, and he and Gavin had discussed, more than once,who was going to be the guy who stepped up and took a leadership role in that group. So far, it hadn’t really been anyone.

“Hasn’t stopped Jones,” Gavin pointed out in a low voice.

And yes, Elliott was a sophomore, but he played like he was already in the pros.That was great, everyone was thrilled about it, but also, nobody had figured out yet how he’d made that jump. Zach knew Gavin was still worried it was because of Malcolm. And what would happen if Malcolm ever stopped being a factor.

“They’ll get there,” Zach said.

Gavin made a face as their third and fourth line centers totally missed each other on an easy pass and Ramsey’s sharp reprimand cut across the ice.

“We need production fromeveryone, not just the first line,” Gavin huffed.

“Maybe if Finn—”

“I’m not putting this whole team on his back,” Gavin said.

“Fair,” Zach agreed. Finn had enough pressures, without needing to be the savior all the time. Elliott and Mal—and to a lesser extent Ivan—didn’t seem to mind that. But Finn did. Probably because Morgan Reynolds was a built-in pressure crank.

“Okay,” Gavin said, when he’d finally seen enough, which was at least five minutes afterZachhad seen enough.

“I’ll go let Finn know we’re going to do the drill,” Zach said, and Gavin nodded.

Finn’s helmet was pushed up and he was squirting water into his mouth from his water bottle.

“Hey,” Zach said to Finn, “we’re gonna run a shootout drill, for the end of practice.”

Finn nodded. Zach swore he saw a shadow ofsomethingflicker across his face but before he could catalog and understand the emotion, it was gone.

Part of him wanted to go back to Gavin and tell him this was a bad idea, but if he did, then Finn would know why Zach had changed his mind, and that might push him even deeper into his own head.

No. They needed to do this. For the whole team, but for Finn, too.

Zach returned to the boards, leaning against them again, Gavin’s elbow pressing against his arm. “Mal,” he called out, when Finn was ready.

Mal was a deceptive shooter. He looked focused, but not particularly aggressive, until the last moment. It was a great strategy to lull goalies to sleep. Finn wasn’t fooled by it, and he shouldn’t have been. They’d been doing this since August. Finn should know everyone’s tells by now.

Changing direction abruptly, Mal sped up, finding his zone.

“Come on, Mal,” Elliott shouted from across the ice. “Stop fucking around!”

Gavin chuckled under his breath as Mal skated faster—nobody was unsure as to why—and then shot the puck, a dart right around Finn’s knee pad.

Elliott yelled in excitement, and even Malcolm looked pretty pleased with himself.

The only one who didn’t was Finn, who was frowning now.

Elliott went next, and used his speed the whole way, unlike Mal, and slipped a puck right between Finn’s legs, quicker than he’d been anticipating, and now that was two.

“That’s it,” Zach called out, clapping his hands. If he didn’t seem happy, then it would be worse. Finn would believe they all doubted him.

Gavin nudged him, and he didn’t need to say why.

Zach glanced over at Finn, who was looking tense.