Barrett finds me as I’m pulling off my skates. “Rodriguez. Take the next practice off. Rest up. You earned it.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“And Rodriguez?” He’s got that almost-smile again. “Whatever motivation you’ve got with your girl being here, keep it up. You play different when she’s watching.”
My face burns. “Yes, Coach.”
He walks away and Dex immediately takes his place, grinning like he knows every dirty secret I’ve ever had.
“Five goals. FIVE. You realize you’re never living this down, right?”
“Good problem to have.”
“Your girl looked like she was going to pass out when you scored that fifth one.” He’s laughing now. “What’d you promise her? A house? A yacht?”
“Nothing that expensive.”
“Must be something good.”
“Maybe I promised I’d learn to cook.”
“Nobody looks that shocked about cooking.”
“Maybe it was a really complicated recipe.”
Brody appears, already showered and changed. “We’re hitting that tattoo place two blocks from the hotel. Rodriguez, you’re getting a five-goal tribute tattoo.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo tonight.”
“Come on! Historic night needs permanent commemoration.”
“The scoresheet is permanent enough.”
“Lame. Luca, what about you?”
“Hard pass,” Luca says immediately from across the room.
“Still afraid of needles?” Dex grins.
“I’m not afraid of needles. I just don’t want permanent markings on my body that I’ll regret when I’m forty.”
“That’s exactly what someone afraid of needles would say,” Almardon points out, pulling his shirt on.
“Where is this coming from?” Luca demands. “I made forty-two saves tonight. Forty-two! Show some respect.”
“We respect you,” I say. “We just also know you passed out during your tetanus shot last year.”
“That was one time! And I was dehydrated!”
“You were lying on the table,” Brody reminds him. “How do you pass out when you’re already horizontal?”
“The nurse said it happens sometimes!”
“The nurse was being nice,” Anderson chimes in. “She looked pretty concerned.”
We spend twenty more minutes like this, the usual locker room chirping that happens when everyone’s riding high from a win. Guys congratulating me, making increasingly ridiculous suggestions for how to celebrate—tattoos, piercings, someone suggests we steal something from the arena. The energy’s still electric even though we’re off the ice.
I actually did it. Which means I have to follow through on five... yeah.
