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EIGHTEEN

Blake

The mood in the locker room is somber before game six.

We’re up three games to two, so all we need to do is win tonight and we’re off to the second round.

The Blizzard is a tough team, though, so we’re all prepared to have to fight tooth and nail for the fourth win of the series.

“I’m as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night,” Bodi says as we finish getting ready in the locker room.

I smirk. “You probably don’t even remember being a virgin!”

“I remember!” he protests. “I was fifteen. Amelia Hardaway. She was seventeen. And I wasn’t nervous at all!”

“Liar!” Connor tosses a roll of tape in his direction. “Everyone is nervous the first time.”

“Not me.” Bodi looks smug. “She sucked me off first, so I’d have a little staying power, and then we did the deed. It was awesome.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Shut the hell up. You know you were nervous.”

“I wasn’t!” He throws the roll of tape back at Connor.

“I was,” Connor says, catching the tape in mid-air. “Nervous as fuck. At least I’m man enough to admit it.”

“You can barely grow a beard,” Canyon teases him. “I don’t know if we can call you a man …”

“Hey!” Connor flings the tape in Canyon’s direction, but he ducks, and it hits Evan instead.

“What did I do?” he demands, putting the tape on the shelf behind him and effectively ending the game.

We all continue giving Bodi shit for a few minutes and finally conversation moves on.

“You talk to your parents since the other night?” Bodi asks me.

“I talked to my mom and sister, said goodbye in the lobby the morning of their flight home, but I haven’t spoken to him at all.”

“He’s really something. I don’t know how you grew up with a dad like that. My dad is always proud of me, no matter how shitty I play.”

“You’d think parents would feel that way, but I guess not all of them do.”

“Well, you deserve better. You need to set some boundaries or something.”

“Oh, I’m done with him,” I say. “I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. If he wants to man up and apologize, we can talk, but until then, I’m one thousand percent done.”

“Best way you can show him how wrong he is,” Canyon interjects, “is to play your ass off out there.”

“That’s what I intend to do. So if any of you fuckers have the opportunity to pass me the puck, do it. I want a natural hat trick tonight.” I grin at them and everyone starts to hoot and whistle.

“Hat trick it is!” Gabe calls out. “You get one, drinks are on me after the game.”

“Let’s do this!” Canyon stands up and looks around. “Are we ending this series tonight?”

Everyone is on their feet, bumping fists and building on the energy in the room.

Honestly, I want to win the series whether I get any goals or not.

I want to show my dad that I’m more than the loser he thinks I am.

And I absolutely want another opportunity to get naked with Rowan.

But mostly I want to be part of this team and show them this is where I belong.

That I’m worthy.

I know my dad has gotten in my head, but I’ve known for a long time that I fucked up. In college, and then in my early years in the minors. I was so used to being the big man on campus, I stopped trying, and of course, as soon as I stopped trying, I stopped being the big man.

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and I fucked up so many things in my life.

From my personal life to my career to my relationship with my father. Well, he fucked that up himself, but I allowed it.

In some way, I still am.

We don’t see each other often, but when we do, he manages to make me feel like shit. About hockey, about my future, and most of all, about myself.

Seeing Rowan again, and spending time with her, has reminded me that I used to be someone else. Someone with hopes and dreams and…confidence. Something I’ve been lacking the last few years.

If there’s any chance at all of getting it back, I have to play the best damn hockey of my life.

“Rourke. Hayes. I want you on the first line with Marks tonight,” Assistant Coach Danvers says, walking around with a clipboard.

He goes through a handful of line changes and then it’s time to head out to the ice.

As I get into the hallway, I catch a glimpse of Rowan, and we exchange a quick but meaningful glance. No matter what happens, I know she has my back.

And that means a lot.

The first goal happens without much effort.

I score just a minute into the game. Playing on a line with Canyon makes it feel easy, and when he all but lays the puck on the blade of my stick, there’s no way in hell I could miss. But the excitement is short-lived because the Blizzard comes back with a goal of their own two minutes later, and it goes on like that for the entire game.

First, it’s tied at one.

By the end of the second period, we’re tied at four.

Now it’s 5-5, with six minutes left to play.

It’s been a long, grueling game, with a couple of fights and a lot of scuffles by the boards. We want this, but so do they. Anything can happen in games like this, so it’s up to all of us to pull off a win. So when Connor passes me the puck, I wind up and take the shot. It goes wide but Canyon is there to shuffle it back to me.

Another shot.

This time it hits the post.

Motherfucker.

I’ve been on the ice over a minute, which is a long time, and it’s time for the change, but we’re in Alaska’s zone and on a power play.

This is our shot, but their goalie is hanging tough, blocking a shot from Canyon and another from Connor.

Then it’s back to me, and this time, I’m ready. I see the small opening over the goalie’s right shoulder.

I aim and fire it off.

Bam.

The red light goes off and it’s 6-5.

“Fuck yeah!” The excitement is stronger this time, and my teammates high five me as I skate past the bench.

“Five minutes left for you to get that hat trick,” Bodi breathes, sinking down beside me.

“Let me catch my breath,” I respond, grabbing my water bottle.

We’re down to three minutes before I’m on the ice again, and Alaska is battling intensely, desperate to tie it up again. They’re hitting hard, playing a little dirty, and before we know it, there’s another fight. This time it’s Ivan and one of their defensemen, who doesn’t really have a chance against the burly Russian. Ivan’s a winger but he’s also scrappy, and while I normally enjoy watching him fight, there’s too much on the line to risk an instigating penalty.

Which is what we get.

And now we’re down a player.

I can see Coach Vanek’s jaw working in irritation, and I’m on the edge of my seat as the penalty kill team goes out there.

“Come on,” I say under my breath. “Keep the goal out of the zone…”

“No overtime,” Teague Landry grits out.

We’re mostly quiet after that, watching, waiting…hoping.

“Fuck.” Bodi hisses out a breath as the Blizzard score with less than two minutes left in the game.

“Shit.” I huff out the curse, frustrated as hell.

We’re going to overtime, which is always a crap shoot.

No matter how good you play in regulation, anything can happen in overtime. Not to mention, fatigue starts to set in, and sometimes it comes down to a lucky bounce, a missed call, any damn thing. It’s better than having to go to a shootout, like in the regular season, but overtime isn’t my favorite.

“That’s it, boys. We’re going to overtime.” Coach Vanek turns and heads down the tunnel as the buzzer sounds and we all shuffle behind him.

The excitement of a few minutes ago has faded to anxious determination.

We have to score first.

That’s all there is to it.