We end up winning,and it isn’t even close. Early in the third period, MacKenzie and I are able to lure the Dallas team into someplay in the corner. A quick pass behind me and Price has the puck, skating it toward the goal. As the Dallas players attempt to get into the play, Gagnon lands a hard check to Langley, leaving him dazed against the boards.
While he's there, Lindy is able to get the puck to Matty, who sends a slapshot topshelf. As we celebrate the goal, I see Langley skating stiffly off the ice. Soon, Carter is out for his first shift since the beginning of the second period, and his fresh legs make the rest of us on the ice look like a bunch of old vets out for a beer league game. Within five seconds of touching the puck, he has it in the back of the net on a wraparound.
In his next shift, we're on the ice together. Dallas has possession of the puck for the first real time in the third period, but a quick poke check gives me the puck. I see Lindy and Carter getting into position around the goal and I'm immediately reminded of the drill we ran during camp, of all the times I passed to anyone but Carter.
I angle my body toward Lindy, then, in a move more in Carter's wheelhouse than my own, shove the puck toward Carter on the backhand. His eyes widen just a bit, but by the time the puck is near him, he's ready for the one-timer, placing the puck five-hole. As the goal horn sounds, we collide, smacking one another on the back.
In the end, the scoreboard reads 5-1. As much as I hate to admit it, Greg was right – Carter is exactly what this team needs to turn around our losing streak of the last several years. He managed a hat trick tonight, in spite of everything Dallas tried to stop it.
In the locker room, the energy is frenetic — Alexei’s phone is hooked up to the Bluetooth speakers, with Russian house music pumping its beat through the room. I pull off my shoulder pads and jump up on one of the benches, sweat still rolling off my hair.
“That's what I’m talking about! First round’s on me tonight, boys!”
The energy gets even more intense as the team starts stripping down and hitting the showers. Alexei starts calling a few downtown bars, lining up a VIP section for our celebration.
The lockers room clears out quickly, the guys eager to get downtown and start their Saturday night. As I emerge from the showers, the smell of body spray lingers in the air.
Carter isn’t in a hurry. Under the fluorescent lights, his pale skin takes on a yellow tinge, the bandage prominent on his brow. He seems more subdued than usual, but an injury can do that to almost anyone.
“How's the cut?” I ask, heading to my stall.
Carter looks up at me, wary. “It’s fine. A few stitches.”
He remains taciturn as I continue to dress, pulling my boxer briefs on under my towel.
“You were right,” he whispers.
I can barely hear him, and at first I think I’ve misunderstood. “Huh?”
“At the party. You tried to tell me – that Langley would be a dick about the gay thing. And I blew you off. But you were right – I should've listened.”
As good as the words feel, I can't let him take the blame on himself.
“Oh, please. The only person who should feel bad about their behavior tonight is fucking Trent Langley. But he's a sociopath, so don't count on it.”
He laughs, but it has a distinctly wet sound to it.
“And we have to play them how many times a year?”
“Too many.”
His laugh is more genuine now, and I see a glimpse of the Jamie from the beginning of camp, before he began to get iced out by the team.
“I'm...I'm sorry if I haven't been the best captain to you. You're a great player, and we're lucky to have you here.”
“Yeah? 'Cause I gotta say, Cap, I've gotten the distinct impression that you in particular would rather I weren't here.”
Guilt floods my gut and I feel the tips ofmy ears redden.
“It…it would be easier for me. But we’d probably be losing a lot more games. Sometimes we have to do hard things, I guess.”
His eyebrows lift, and for the first time in a long time – ever? – he seems willing to hear me out.
“What you did tonight? Your speech to the guys? You didn’t have to do that for me.”
He pauses, then turns to me.
“No, Jamie. I had to do exactly that. Listen, I told you what was gonna happen. And it’s gonna happen again, and again, and again. Guys are gonna want to call you all sorts of words. They’re gonna want to get in your space, and make you their target. And my job — mynumber one jobthis season is not to let that happen. My number two job is making them regret it if they do. You understand?”
