“The fuck, Park?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Park asked.
Theycould barely hear each other over the cheering as the captains were sent to the locker room. What a fucking mess.
“We almost had you,” Jett said, more to himself than to Park.
“I know,” said Park. “It was great. I fucking loved this game.”
Jett gave a hint of a smile. He couldn’t look at Park because he knew he would punch him, so he kept his eyes on Harrison and nodded.
As frustrated as he was and as badly as he wanted to win, he agreed with Park. This game had been fun, and even though they would probably lose, he couldn’t wait to take on the Ottawa team again and fight for a better outcome.
“Park! Fraser! Center ice, now!”
The last 2 minutes and 30 seconds felt like an hour. Bracken was out for the rest of the game and the Conclaves were pissed that their captain had gotten his ass handed to him. There were more fights than there were shots at the net. Wolf got a penalty after Jett had been tripped into the boards, retaliating against the guy by tripping him so hard his face hit the ice, and he lost two teeth.
Jett was fine, and because he was grateful for Wolf standing up for him, he put the game into overtime so they had a tiny chance at victory.
Any sliver of hope vanished when Park won the face-off and charged toward the Sunburst net, dazzling Powers with the slick footwork he was famous for. The moment an opening appeared, he took it—firing the puck in and scoring the game-winning goal.
Jett made sure no more fights broke out as he herded the rest of the team toward their gate. Powers was the worst of them. He was shouting at the opposing bench like a man possessed, so Jett had to drag him off the ice like an angry dog on a leash.
“Fuck!” Wolf snapped his twig against the wall and stomped off, snarling at the jeering Ottawa fans around him.
Jett was the last one off the ice, and he made sure to stop and sign a Sunburst jersey for a little girl before he followed the rest of his team. There was no reason for every Starburst fan to be miserable tonight.
Jett ignored the press guy waving at him for an interview and hit the locker room to change and shower. He expected to see solemn expressions on everyone’s faces, but he froze when greeted with smiles and cheers.
Ryan was already showered and half-dressed in his suit as he sauntered to Jett and swung an arm over his shoulders. “Jetty! Who should we pick for MVP tonight?”
The tension that Jett didn’t know he was holding onto suddenly released. Every guy in the room was bleeding, sweaty and angry, but above all else, they wereproud.
“The answer is obvious,” said Jett, and the room fell silent. He grinned and met Jason’s eyes, heart aching at the sight of the wetness gathered in them. “Our goalie went from getting trampled by these pricks last time to getting us to overtime tonight.”
Guys in all states of undress grabbed the nearest object to them to make noise, joining in with Ryan and Jett’s stick-tapping.
“Where’s Fenwick?” Ryan shouted over the clamour. “Someone pass Fenwick to his new dad of the night!”
Fenwick was a blue stuffed dragon given to every Sunburst MVP for the last five years. It was probably the dumbest team tradition in existence, but the guysfoughtover the toy every game they played. There was no greater pride than getting that little backpack shaped like a dragon egg and opening it up to pull out a disgruntled Fenwick to snuggle.
Coach Adams wore his usual disgruntled expression as he approached Jason and held out the backpack. Jason took it with both hands, and the locker room erupted—their cheers echoing off the walls, teammates clapping him on the back and jostling him with proud grins.
Gone were the frustrated tears that had welled in Jason’s eyes earlier. Now, he hugged the backpack to his chest like it meant everything, soaking in the well-earned praise.
“An admirable effort,” said Coach Adams. “We’ll win the next game against the Conclaves, but for now, you have three hours until you have to be at the airport, and I will see you on the plane.”
“You heard Coach, boys!” Ryan said, grinning. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and get a quick drink.”
Harrison
Despite losing the game, the Sunburst team was in high spirits. They went to a bar walking distance from their hotel to drink and unwind after having such a crazy night. They didn’t have much time before they had to get their bags checked out to meet Adams for their flight, but it was enough to unwind and get tipsy for the bus ride.
Harrison sipped his drink, savouring the taste as he observed the Sunburst players who had overtaken the small establishment. They were being well-behaved for the most part, which was great because Harrison’s leg was aching too much to break up a brawl tonight.
His eyes landed on Bracken across the table, lingering on the mottled bruise blooming across his cheek and the fresh split in his lower lip. His knuckles were scraped raw, already darkening to the same deep purple as his face. Every time he smiled, the cut reopened and bled, but he didn’t seem to care—he looked downright pleased with himself.
Harrison supposed that winning a fight against a fellow captain had something to do with it.
