“So,” Jonesy said. “Sign guy.”
“Not now, Jones.”
“That’s Mercer, right? The mechanic?” Jonesy’s eyebrows were up. “How the hell did you land Mercer? That guy doesn’t even talk to people.”
“He talks to me.”
“Yeah, well, he’s still out of your league.”
Leo looked at him. Jonesy was grinning, but underneath it, his eyes were steady. Checking in.
“He’s a good guy,” Leo said.
“He better be. And he’d better not fuck up again. I know where he works.”
Carter appeared on Leo’s other side. He’d retaped his stick and was pressing the blade against the floor, testing the flex. He didn’t sit down.
“You’re playing well,” Carter said. “Keep it simple. Don’t try to win the game yourself.”
“Copy.”
“And tell your guy nice sign.”
Carter walked away to talk to Deluca about the power play.Your guy.He’d said it the way he’d sayyour lineoryour shift.Just a fact.
Leo had a feeling it was going to be a long time before he lived down Dawson’s apology. The guys would rib him relentlessly about how sweet it was, but Leo didn’t care. Itwassweet, and he knew how far out of his comfort zone Dawson had stretched to show up like that.
The second period started, and Leo played the best hockey of his season.
He won the first draw by tying up the other center’s stick and letting Novo sweep the puck back to Riggs at the point. Riggs walked the blue line and threw it low into traffic. Leo fought through a cross-check in front of the net, got his stick on therebound, and the goalie kicked it away, but Carter was there, crashing the net from the weak side, and he buried it. One to zero Stags. The bench exploded. Leo jumped into Carter, and Carter grabbed the back of his helmet and shook him once, hard.
The other team tied it midway through the second on a deflection Ford had no chance on. Didn’t matter. Leo drew a penalty on a hard forecheck and nearly scored on the power play—crossbar, the crowd groaned, Leo slammed his stick against his thigh. Close. Getting closer.
The second period ended tied with one each. Leo had been on the ice for the Stags’ goal, drawn another penalty, and finished with six hits.
Carter’s line went out with seven minutes left in the third period. The face-off was in the offensive zone. Carter won the draw back to Riggs, who walked the blue line and threw it low. Traffic in front. Leo lost his man behind the net and came out the other side, and the puck was on Novo’s stick at the half wall. Leo was open, stick on the ice, and he didn’t call for it because he didn’t need to. Three months of building a rapport with these men was starting to pay off. Novo knew where Leo was at all times.
The pass came tape-to-tape. Leo caught it in stride and had one second, the goalie committing left, and he went high glove-side with a wrist shot that left his stick so clean he barely felt it.
The net rippled. The horn blared. Ten thousand people lost their minds.
Leo threw his arms up and screamed, the sound lost in the noise, and Carter got there first, slamming into him from behind, then Novo, then Jonesy, vaulting over the boards for no reason otherthan Jonesy. Leo was buried in blue jerseys and sweat, and Novo’s visor dug into his shoulder.
He came up grinning so wide his mouthguard dug into his gums. Tapped his chest with his glove — two taps over the heart, same as always — and the arena was deafening. His eyes burned. He didn’t look at the glass. There was no point. Dawson was watching, and that was the only person in the arena who mattered.
They won three to one. Leo had the go-ahead goal and an assist on Carter’s empty-netter in the final minute. Ford came out of the net for a stick tap with Leo on the way to the tunnel.
The locker room was loud. Jonesy’s terrible music, Riggs on the phone telling his wife that Ella could stay up until he got home, Russ texting his mom. Leo dropped onto his bench and started unlacing his skates when Jonesy’s voice cut through.
“So.” Jonesy leaned against the stall next to Leo’s. “Safe to say you’re not headed out to celebrate with us tonight?” He paused. “You could always bring Mercer with.”
Leo looked up from his skate. Part of him wanted to walk into The Penalty Box with Dawson beside him and let the whole thing be normal, be easy, be what it should’ve been weeks ago.
But Leo had been thinking about getting Dawson alone since warm-ups.
“Maybe next time,” Leo said.
Jonesy studied him for a second, then grinned. “Yeah. Next time.”
