Page 11 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

O liver

Oliver's stick connected with the puck at exactly the right moment, sending it screaming toward the top corner of the net with enough velocity to leave a dent in the crossbar. The ping of rubber against metal echoed through the practice facility, followed by appreciative chirps from his teammates.

"Damn, Chenny," Kane called from center ice, "you trying to break the net?"

Oliver retrieved another puck from the pile. His mind focused entirely on the fundamentals of his shot. Heel of the blade, weight transfer, follow-through. The same mechanics he'd been drilling since he was six years old, refined into muscle memory that required no conscious thought.

Which was good, because his conscious thoughts kept drifting to last night at his apartment.

The way Heather had looked at him when she'd realized he was innocent.

The way she'd trembled beneath his touch as he'd brought her apart with his hands.

The taste of her name on his lips when she'd shattered for him.

Another shot, another clean placement. This one found the five-hole in the empty net, sliding through the space where a goalie's legs would be positioned.

"Show off," Dmitri muttered, but there was admiration in his voice. "Is like watching sniper hunt deer in forest."

Oliver lined up his next shot, using the familiar rhythm to center himself.

On the ice, everything made sense. No mixed signals, no accusations of betrayal, no wondering if the woman he was falling for could trust him.

Just the puck, the net, and the physics of making rubber go exactly where he wanted it to go.

"All right, boys," Coach Vicky's voice cut across the ice, "enough target practice. Let's run some systems."

The team gathered around her at center ice. Oliver proven to himself that his personal life could coexist with his professional. In fact, having Heather believe in him again had sharpened his focus rather than dulling it.

"Three-on-two rush drill," Coach announced. "I want to see crisp passing and smart decisions. Chenny, you're running point on the first group."

Oliver nodded. Kane liked to drive hard to the net, drawing defenders out of position. Mateo had soft hands around the crease but sometimes tried to get too fancy with his finishing. The key would be reading the defensive coverage and making the play that created the best scoring chance.

They lined up at the blue line, two defensemen—Jax and Noah—backing up to protect the goal.

Oliver took the drop pass from Kane and immediately surveyed the developing play.

Jax was cheating toward Kane's side, anticipating the pass to the team's leading scorer.

Noah was staying centered, trying to take away the middle of the ice.

Oliver held the puck for exactly two strides, drawing Jax another step out of position, then slid a pass to Mateo on the weak side. The winger had a clean look at the net, but instead of shooting, he tried to make a cute pass back to Kane in traffic.

The puck was intercepted.

"Mateo!" Coach Vicky's whistle pierced the air. "What the hell was that?"

"I thought Kane had a better angle."

"You had a grade-A scoring chance, and you gave it away for something pretty." She skated over, fixing him with a stare that could melt ice. "This isn't Instagram, kid. When you get a clean look, you shoot."

They ran the drill again. This time, Oliver made sure to put the pass on Mateo's forehand, right in his wheelhouse. The shot went bar down with authority, and Coach nodded approval.

"Better. Next group."

For the next hour, they worked through various power play setups, penalty kill formations, and defensive zone coverage. Oliver’s game sharpened with each repetition, his mind fully engaged with the tactical aspects of hockey.

"You look different today," Noah commented during a water break. "More settled. Whatever was eating at you seems to be resolved."

"Just needed to work some things out," Oliver replied, which was true enough. Working things out with Heather had involved more than just clearing up the hacking accusations. It had involved her hands in his hair and her body responding to his touch in ways that still made his blood run hot.

"Good. Team needs you locked in with the season starting soon." The veteran defenseman lowered his voice. "Speaking of which, heard you've been helping with the security investigation. Must be intense work, especially after what happened to Jax."

Oliver's expression darkened. The leak of Jax medical records had really pissed off the team. "How's he holding up?"

"Angry as hell. Whoever leaked that stuff knew exactly what would cause the most damage." Noah's tone was grim. "Makes everyone nervous about what else they might have accessed."

Oliver nodded, his jaw tightening at the reminder of how personal the attacks had become.

"Speaking of being careful," Noah continued, his tone carefully neutral, "front office relationships can be tricky. Just saying, be smart about how you handle things. People are already talking about you and Heather."

Before Oliver could respond, Coach Vicky called for attention. "Scrimmage time. Red versus white. First to five goals wins, losers do suicides."

The competitive atmosphere immediately ratcheted up several notches. Nobody wanted to spend the last ten minutes of practice skating wind sprints, which meant the scrimmage would be played at near-game intensity.

Oliver was on the white team with Kane, Dmitri, Noah, and Sven in goal. Red team countered with Mateo, Ethan, Jax, Liam, and a couple of bottom-six forwards who'd been competing for roster spots.

The puck dropped, and Oliver immediately engaged. Kane won the faceoff back to Noah, who chipped it up the boards to Oliver. He gathered the pass cleanly, scanning for options as red forecheckers converged on his position.

Dmitri was streaking down the left wing, calling for the puck. Oliver could see Jax backing up, trying to cut off the passing lane while staying close enough to challenge any shot attempt.

Oliver faked the pass to Dmitri, drawing Jax another step toward the boards, then cut hard to the middle of the ice. The move created just enough space for him to get his shot off, a quick wrist shot that beat Liam clean over the glove.

"Beauty!" Dmitri hollered, crashing into Oliver in celebration. "Is like watching master chef prepare borscht. Looks easy but requires many years of practice."

The scrimmage continued at a furious pace.

Oliver was in a zone he rarely achieved, where the game seemed to slow down and every decision became obvious.

He set up Kane for a tap-in goal with a perfectly timed pass from behind the net.

He broke up a two-on-one rush with a well-positioned poke check that sent the puck harmlessly into the corner.

With the score tied 4-4, the red team pressed for the winning goal. Mateo had the puck in the corner, looking for a way to create something dangerous. Oliver read his intentions, anticipating the pass to Ethan in the slot.

He stepped into the passing lane, intercepted the puck, and was off to the races on a breakaway.

Just him and Liam, sixty feet of ice between them and victory for the white team. Oliver gathered speed, puck dancing on his stick blade as he approached the goal. Liam was playing the percentages, staying back in his crease, making Oliver beat him with skill rather than angle.

Twenty feet out, Oliver made his decision. Instead of trying to fake out the goalie, he fired a shot that caught the top corner cleanly. Liam's glove was a fraction of a second too late. The puck already nestled in the mesh by the time he reacted.

"Holy shit, Chenny," Kane grabbed him in a bear hug as their teammates mobbed them at center ice. "That was sick!"

"Lucky shot," Liam called from his crease, but he was grinning. Professional goalies appreciated good shots, even when they went in.

"Lucky my babushka's dentures," Dmitri laughed. "Was pure skill. Chenny is playing like bear who just wake up from hibernation, hungry and dangerous."

Coach Vicky skated over as the celebration died down. "That's how you play hockey," she said simply. "Focused, smart, ruthless when you get your chances." Her eyes found Oliver's. "Whatever you did to get your head straight, keep doing it."

As the team headed off the ice, Oliver was satisfied with his performance. His timing was sharp, his decisions were crisp, and he'd dominated in a way that would make opponents take notice.

In the locker room, the usual post-practice banter resumed, but Oliver detected a subtle shift in how his teammates were treating him.

The jokes about his mystery woman had evolved into something more respectful, acknowledgment that whatever was happening in his personal life was making him a better player, not a distracted one.

"Chenny was dialed in today," Jax commented, unlacing his skates. "Haven't seen him play that sharp since the playoffs."

"Is because he has motivation now," Dmitri added with a knowing grin. "Beautiful woman will make man play better hockey. My uncle Sergei always say: 'When heart is full, hands are steady.' You prove theory correct today, my friend."

"That's not how relationships work," Oliver said, but he was smiling.

"Is exactly how relationships work. A good woman would make me want to be hero on ice so she think I am strong Russian bear instead of skinny boy from Volgograd." Dmitri puffed out his chest dramatically. "Love is best performance enhancement drug."

Oliver's phone buzzed with a text as he pulled off his jersey. Heather's name on the screen filled him with another type of satisfaction.

Amazing practice today. Loved watching you. Ready to catch some hackers tonight? My place this time.

He stared at the message, remembering the feel of her skin under his hands, the way she'd looked at him with complete trust after he'd proven his innocence.

"Earth to Chenny," Kane called. "You're smiling at your phone like you just got offered a ten-year contract extension."

"Just team business," Oliver replied, pocketing the device.

"Right," Kane laughed. "Team business that makes you look like you conquered the world."

As Oliver showered and changed, he reflected on how much had shifted in the past twenty-four hours.

Yesterday he'd been frustrated and hurt by Heather's accusations.

Today he understood why she'd needed to question him, and more importantly, she'd shown him that she was willing to admit when she was wrong.

That kind of intellectual honesty was rare, and it made him want her even more.

As he headed out of the facility, Charlie falling into step beside him, Oliver caught himself looking forward to the evening ahead with an anticipation that had everything to do with brilliant green eyes and the promise of working beside someone who finally saw him as an ally instead of a threat.