Jett was in position by the time the puck came sailing toward him, and he didn’t have to think as he slapped it toward the top left of the net.
It was a good shot, but the goalie took a chance and ended up grazing the puck with the butt of his stick, sending it up so high that it went out of play.
Jett tried not to feel too disappointed, but it would have been an awesome goal. He was looking up at the overhead screen and not paying attention—he almost skated into the giant defenceman lingering nearby.
Barzetti, a man who was pushing 7’ with skates on. He was just as big and broad as August Snow, except a fuck-ton more intimidating. The guy looked like he had never been happy a day in his life.
“Sorry,” said Jett, since he had made the mistake of drifting too close. “Also, welcome to the league.”
Barzetti’s lashes were ridiculously long and dark. They framed his hazel eyes prettily, making them look greener than they were. Those eyes looked down at him now, blinking lazily like a cat.
Jett was starting to feel like a deer staring down a tiger.
Barzetti said nothing in response. He narrowed his eyes at Jett, mouth guard sticking out as he chewed on it and skated away for the next puck drop.
What the fuck?
“Oh yeah, avoid him if you can, Jetty,” Greene said, sliding beside him. “We’re all fucking terrified of him. He hasn’t said one word since he joined the team, and rumour has it that his dad has something to do with the mob.”
“The mob?”
That wasn’t a thing, was it?
“He broke Wade’s arm during practice,” Greene said, referring to one of the other defencemen on the Barbarian team. “Tripped him into the goalpost so hard it snapped. And that was his own teammate.”
Holy. Shit.
Greene skated away with a nervous frown, and Jett couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He wasn’t scared of Barzetti, but he’d rather not be out with broken bones if he could help it.
They tried to make another play for the net after Bracken won the face-off again, but the Barbarian’s defence had tightened up, and Jett wasrunning out of gas by the end of his shift. He hit the bench and grabbed a drink, pouring half of it onto his head to try and cool himself down.
One of the Barbarian forwards ran away with the puck, and Bracken jumped to his feet.
“Don’t let him in, Jace! Don’t let him in!”
Powers blocked the shot with his glove, and Cormier scooped up the rebound, turning the play around.
“Fuck me.” Ryan fell back onto the bench and started sucking back water. “What the fuck is wrong with us right now?”
“You’re gathering momentum,” said Harrison’s voice behind them, and Jett felt the thrill of excitement nearly skip his heart to a stop. “Which I understand, but you need to buckle up and start playing if you want to win.”
“Heard loud and clear, Coach,” said Bracken. He turned to Cote and elbowed him. “You ready to go again, kid?”
Cote’s frustrated growl was audible over the screaming crowd. “No, just—give me a fucking second, okay? I need to—” he froze and glanced at Bracken, his captain. “Sorry—”
“No,” said Bracken. “If you need a second to collect yourself, take it. We don’t break rookies on this team.”
Cote’s grip tightened around his stick, his eyes locking onto the game as the Barbarians forced the Sunbursts on another defensive play. Sandford was killing this game so far, and Jett wanted to be grumpy about it, but he was happy for his friend.
When they finally hit the ice for their next shift, Cote’s body language screamed readiness. His shoulders were set, and Jett could see his determined expression under the visor.
Bracken secured the puck, and the line surged forward, charging into the Barbarians’ zone.
Barzetti was on Cote like a shadow, riding his hip and using every ounce of pressure to force an early pass. Cote had no choice but to send the puck flying down the boards, hollering for Jett to make sure he was on it.
Jett read the play and launched into motion, his blades carving into the ice as he raced ahead to receive it. But just as the puck came into reach, a stick clipped the back of his skates, and his balance was gone.
His feet flew out from under him, and his body twisted before slamming into the boards shoulder-first with a bone-jarring thud that rattled his teeth and knocked the wind from his lungs.
