Page 29 of Replay (Toronto Blaze #3)

Do Your Magic

Josh

Tomorrow we were playing Minnesota. Here, in Toronto.

Just like the last game of the playoffs.

We were all trying to pretend we weren’t freaking out, but we were.

We’d talked to the shrink, but despite that, our play hadn’t improved and we were on edge.

Even Coach. He was extra critical at practice and made Coach Salo keep working with Mitchell after the rest of us were done.

The locker room was tense. Obviously our struggles this season were mostly mental, and obviously it was because of how last season ended. But if you didn’t know that? The tension in this room would have proved it.

I’d showered and was getting dressed when Mitchell came off the ice, jaw set and sweat dripping down his face and neck.

The guy had worked on his going-down-early issue that led to the final goal over the summer, and I swear no one had been able to fool him into doing it again.

But we all remembered. And worried. Guys were watching Petey like he might collapse at his stall.

Like repeating that last game was the worst thing that could happen.

And really? It was a game. We wanted to win. But look at De Vries—done playing because of cancer. Or Fitch, getting divorced. Someone had lost his dad last season. So what if we did lose to Minnesota again? Maybe if that was done we could forget that one fucking goal.

“Cooper!” I hollered.

Coop had gone to check on Mitchell. After I yelled, he gave Mitch a pat on his pads and came over to me. “Yeah, Ducky.”

“We should play Mitchell tomorrow.”

Oops. Guess I’d said that a little too loud. The locker room turned dead silent except for the sound of showers in the background.

“What the fuck?” Royster asked.

Oh well. In for a penny…

“We’re all walking around on eggshells here, like the worst thing in the world would be if Petey got hurt and Mitchell was in and we lost. Well, guess what?

It’s not. There are things out there, so much bigger, like cancer and babies and family and shit.

We’re already losing games. So let’s put Mitchell in, play Minnesota, and get it fucking done with. ”

Everyone stared at me but no one said anything.

Cooper was staring in my direction, but he didn’t really see me. His brain was going at top speed. I could almost hear it. “Why not?”

Voices started to murmur, then question.

“Why the fuck not?” he said loudly and everyone stopped.

“Ducky is right. We’re fucking petrified.

Losing like that sucked, but guess what?

Half of the teams that make the finals lose.

That’s hockey. Mitchell is a hell of a good goalie, but that stupid goal is an albatross on his neck.

On all of our necks.” He turned to Petrov. “You okay with that?”

Petrov, naked as usual, shrugged. “If it helps the team.”

Cooper nodded. “I’m going to talk to Coach.” He turned and left, still wearing his compression gear.

Barnes shook his head. “Well, Ducky. You’re either the smartest motherfucker on the team, or everyone is going to hate you.”

If this team didn’t start winning, it wouldn’t matter if they hated me, since I’d be traded. I guess we’d find out.

Cooper didn’t get back to the locker room before I left. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was happening with my idea. In the moment, it’d made a lot of sense, but right now I was pretty sure it was the dumbest thing I’d ever come up with.

Katie came over that evening to watch TV. She noticed how I was fidgeting. She picked up the remote and hit pause. “Is this about the game tomorrow?”

I dropped my head on the back of the couch. “We’re all worked up about it, and I may have done the stupidest thing yet.”

She jabbed me with her elbow. “Did you break up with the team by text?”

I froze, remembering that I could be breaking up with the team. Not my choice, but someone might hear of it by text…

“Too soon?” I blinked at her. “Josh? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

I sat up. “It’s not that. But there’s something that might happen and I should tell you about it.”

I didn’t want to. I’d been hoping to get past this without telling her anything. But in high school, I’d decided things for her. And she needed to know, if I asked her to move past friends, just what might happen.

Katie curled up her legs, facing me. “Something bad?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “My agent called, when we were in Dallas. The team isn’t playing well, so they might trade someone.”

Her eyes widened. She was smart and saw where this was going.

“They’re going to trade you?”

“He heard some rumors. Wanted to give me a heads-up.”

“You don’t want to go.”

No. And I wanted her to want me to stay, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask that. “I want to stay in Toronto. But I might have suggested something stupid at practice and?—”

She pressed her hand on my mouth, and I stilled, heart pounding.

“Don’t call yourself stupid. What did you say?”

She dropped her hand, and I wanted to say stupid again to get her hand on me. Instead, I swallowed. “I suggested we play Mitch against Minnesota tomorrow night.”

She cocked her head. “Trying to break the jinx?”

“Maybe? It just seems like we’re scared, and there are bigger problems.” Like being traded away from the woman you loved and were finally getting a replay with.

“Are they going to do that?”

“Coop went to talk to Coach, but I don’t know.”

“If the team wins, maybe they’ll play better and you won’t be traded?” Did she sound hopeful or was I hearing things because I wanted it so much?

“I hope so. We’ve got a good group. We came so close…” Damn, that still hurt.

Katie bit her lip. “It’s going to be hard to concentrate in class tomorrow night when this game is so important.”

I wanted to ask if this changed anything. If she would consider giving me another chance. But if she said no, it would hurt as badly as being traded, so I chickened out.

* * *

The locker room was tense.

Normally at morning skate we knew who was starting in goal by the way the coaches had them practice. This time, it was definitely weird. Fewer drills with someone in net, and both Mitch and Petey were sent off at the same time.

I stopped by Cooper. “So, what’s up?”

He watched where the two had just left the ice. “Coach said he’d think about it.” He jerked his head at the exit. “It took a lot of convincing for him to even consider it, but obviously he is. He didn’t tell me what he was going to do.”

“If he starts Mitch and we’re a disaster, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“If he starts Mitch and we’re a disaster, his head is on the block.”

“Shit. Didn’t think about that.” I’d thought my neck was the only one at risk.

Cooper tapped my shin pad with his stick. “If he doesn’t start Mitch and we’re a disaster, his head is still on the block.”

Not just his. If Allen was right, and he usually was, the team was going to have to trade someone. Maybe several people. But I would be one of the ones to go.

Coach blew his whistle. “We’re done. Get some rest.”

That was not going to be easy to do.

* * *

Putting on my gear before warm-ups, I kept an eye on Mitch and Petey.

Their stalls were at the end of the room, together, a little wider since their gear was bigger too.

Mitch was doing his usual routine—everything had to be done just so since he was superstitious as fuck.

Petey? Petey did his meditation and got dressed, same as always.

Cyborg. Had Coach told them who was starting? It was impossible to tell.

We skated out for warm-ups and that was when we knew.

Coach was rolling the dice on my idea. I didn’t get nervous before games—a little excited, sure, but this was what I liked about being a skater instead of a goalie.

I was on a line with two other guys, and we had four lines of forwards.

Everything wasn’t on me. If I had a bad day, someone else could pick up the slack. It kept my nerves in check.

Today, I was nervous. Because this idea was mine.

When we tromped back to the locker room, the whole place was vibrating with tension. It hadn’t been like this since the last game last season. Fuck . What had I done?

Coach walked in. Most of us were on our feet, too antsy to sit. Mitchell sat with his head in his hands. He looked a little green. He didn’t usually puke before a game but I wouldn’t bet against it now.

“I can tell you this is just another game. One of eighty-two. What happens out there won’t matter.”

We looked at each other. No one was buying that.

“But the way you’re feeling now, the way I’m feeling, that’s not true.

We’ve had a monkey on our backs since last June.

Let’s do this and get it over with. A win would be good, but if we lose and you start fucking playing again, I can live with that.

” He paused but we were all shocked silent at that speech.

He shook his head and left.

“We’re not waiting for this game to be over,” Cooper said. “We’re fucking playing NOW!”

That got cheers from everyone. Petey reached down to say something to Mitch. I hoped it was helpful—Petey’s idea of support was sometimes a little odd.

In any case, Mitch stood up, hit the floor three times with his stick, and followed us out.

The arena was tense. Quieter than usual. When the starters were introduced, there was a noticeable pause when Braydon Mitchell was announced, and a few boos. Someone started to chant Petrov, Petrov . To his credit, Petey chopped his hand in front of his throat, and the chant died away.

Coach hadn’t just started Mitchell; he’d moved Crash up to play with Cooper, and JJ down to the second D line. So, for the first face-off, we had the same six guys on the ice as when that goal went in and ended our playoff hopes.

I twisted my mouth guard back and forth. This could be the stupidest idea I’d ever had.

Then the puck dropped, and all I could focus on was hockey.

* * *

Minnesota didn’t score on the first play, but they did within the first five minutes. It wasn’t a breakaway and Mitchell didn’t drop too early, but there was a scramble around the net and the puck slipped through his five hole.

Fuck.

The look in Mitchell’s eyes? Killing me. I skated up to Deek, our first line center. “We’re getting that one back.”

“We are, huh?”

I waved toward our goal. “Mitch is all in his head. Let’s give him a chance.”

Deek tapped me with his stick. “I’ll get you the puck. You do your magic and get that goal.”

And I fucking did. Minnesota was feeling the pressure too, and they had relaxed after that first goal.

I was one of the fastest skaters in the league, and tonight I was faster than anyone coming after me.

Deek won the face-off, and I slipped around those fuckheads like they were standing still.

I faked the goalie and slid the puck just inside the net after he’d gone down.

And that red goal light? The best thing I’d seen in weeks.

My teammates crowded me and the arena was rocking. Yes. This was how we did it.

By unspoken agreement, it was on. This wasn’t just another game for us, or for Minnesota.

Three penalties were called in the rest of that first period.

I couldn’t move my skate without someone being right in my face, and Mitch got to stop fifteen shots before the first intermission. The score was still tied, 1-1.

As we took a much-needed break in the locker room, Cooper stood up.

“I’m proud of how you all played in that period.

And maybe I should tell you it’s a long season and not to give everything to one game, but fuck.

Our season’s been a shit show, and there’s a good chance we’re not in the playoffs this year.

So let’s make this game count.” He tapped his stick on the floor.

“This, right now, is our playoffs. Show them what we can really do.”

We all banged our sticks on the ground, even Mitch.

“And whoever scores the game winner gets a bonus from me.”

More banging. And cheering. Then, we went out and did it.

It wasn’t an easy game. Minnesota scored, and then we’d even it up.

Lots of penalties, shoving. Crash even got in a fight, and I hadn’t seen that before.

But when we’d tied things up 4-4 with only a couple of minutes to play in the final period, Cooper got a breakaway and fucking nailed it.

He went down under a pile of crazed Blaze bodies.

I pulled him up since we still had forty seconds on the clock to hang on to our lead. “Didn’t want to pay anyone else?”

He smirked. “If you wanted it, Ducky, you knew how to get it.”

“Next time.”

Minnesota played all-out for thirty-five seconds, till JJ managed to clear the puck into the neutral zone and the final buzzer went before they could regroup.

The crowd was roaring, I’m pretty sure Mitch was blinking back tears, and every one of us was ready to collapse from exhaustion. We’d given everything.

Cooper got first star. He’d been voted that mostly for the game winner, but we knew. He deserved it for more than that goal. He’d led us to that win. Whether that would spill over to the rest of our games, who fucking knew, but the Minnesota monkey was off our back.

Inside, I was cheering for another reason. This should stop trade rumors for a day or two as well.

After maybe five minutes of yelling and rehashing the game, Coach came into the room. “That was an impressive performance, men. How’s the lip, Crash?”

Crash shrugged. It wasn’t bleeding, but with the adrenaline waning, it was going to hurt.

Coach looked around the room, eyes landing on every one of us. “When Cooper told me his idea, I thought he was joking.”

“Actually, Coach, it was Ducky’s idea.”

Coach turned to me, but I was staring at Cooper. He shrugged. He’d been willing to take the blame if it went pear-shaped but gave me the credit when it went well. Hell of a captain.

Coach shook his head. “Hell, if I’d known it was Ducky’s plan, I’d have never considered it.”

Everyone laughed, including me.

“Whoever dreamed it up, it went well. Good job, Mitchell. I know that wasn’t easy, but your teammates had your back. Practice tomorrow is optional, but I expect to see that kind of heart on the ice for our next game. Right?”

“Right,” we echoed.

Coach left, and we all dragged our asses to cooldown and showers. Katie wasn’t coming to the Top Shelf after the game because of school stuff and it was a relief. Right now, I just wanted to sleep. For about twenty-four hours.

But then we needed to talk. We, the team, had been carrying the Minnesota monkey on our backs. But I’d also had one when it came to Katie, from back in high school. It was time to get that one gone as well.

No more giving in to fear.