I threw my stick and gloves.
My heart was beating hard and fast.
Gauthier went for Rune.
Hux held back Minns.
I got to eight first, Mironov on my tail.
I gripped his jersey and growled, “Y’all fuckin’ touched my goalie.”
“Just laying him down so you can suck his dick.”
I cocked my arm and let fly with a right hook. My fist connected with his mouth, and his mouthguard sailed out. His head snapped back.
He stumbled.
I wasn’t done. I raised my fist again, but strong arms pulled me away.
“That’s enough,” the ref ordered. “Two-minute penalty.”
“Where the fuck were you when he cross-checked Rune?” I bit out.
“Penalty box. Now, sixty-nine.”
I glared at number eight, and a sick satisfaction welled up inside me when he wiped the blood from his lip.
“Number eight, major penalty for goaltender interference. Five minutes in the box.”
I grumbled my way over to pick up my gloves and stick, then skated to our box. My hand hurt like a mother. I stretched my fingers out and tightened them into a fist with no extra pain. My hand wasn’t broken, just sore. I gave the team medic the thumbs-up and waited out the longest two minutes of the game.
***
We won in a shutout.
Coach pulled Rune off for the rest of the game to get him checked out, and Austin took over at the crease. But with five on four and seconds left before eight had served the rest of his penalty and the game buzzer sounded, we scored again.
It was all over for the Grizzlies.
“Good game, boys,” Coach praised as we tumbled over the boards.
I looked up at the stands and grinned at Keeley, who was holding a sleeping Hannah. I blew her a kiss and saw her laugh before she ducked her head. I found Spencer a few rows back. He gave me a small dip of his chin, his smile only for me. Steam rose off my jersey, and sweat ran in rivulets down the dip in my spine and between my pecs. My heart was hammering, yet it kicked up a notch when I saw them. I imagined Keeley sitting next to Spencer, with Hannah between them, as they watched the game. I thought about going home to them. I wanted it more than I could express.
I was the last to leave the bench and followed the stampede of Seals down the tunnel. Laughter and whoops surrounded me,the boys chirping and playfully shoving one another around. We were all testosterone-fueled teenagers, and I fuckin’ loved it. I’d never thought this life was possible. Growing up on football had been a chore, but hockey was a dream come true.
Tape was flying and sticks were slapping against the rubber matting on the floor of the locker room when I walked in. There was a chant of “Rune, Rune, Rune,” which I gladly joined.
“Y’all nailed their asses to the wall,” I shouted and gripped Rune’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake. “What a shutout.”
“You threw down gloves for me,” he responded and held up his fist for a bump. I met him halfway and grinned.
“And I’d do it again. Eight’s on my shit list.”
“Rune, you’re fronting the press,” Coach called out, his voice carrying over the ruckus.
I left him to it and stripped off my skates, jersey, and pads, hanging them in my cubby.
Most of the team were already in the weights room, cooling down before I’d finished stripping off my gear.
