Page 22 of Power Play

I thought of myself as a good person. I believed that, but Taylor’s mere presence had me questioning that. I was only eighteen when I left. Still a kid. Too immature to comprehend the impact of my decisions and the consequences that followed.

“Dumoulin. Where’s your head at?” Grant nudged my shoulder, and I returned to tying my skates.

“Nowhere. Just getting in the zone,” I answered vaguely.

“No, you’re not. I’ve been talking to you, and you haven’t heard a single word.” He twisted on the bench to face me. “No distractions. None. Your only purpose in life right now is to win this game.”

I nodded. He was right, of course. The series was tied one-one and we were back on their home ice. We couldn’t let them win, and we definitely couldn’t afford another injury. With the changes to the lines, Dad was moved to the second line and Porter Vaughn was now my center, and I had to watch him. Like Grant said, my only purpose was this game. I wasn’t one of the biggest guys on the team, but I was one of the fastest. It was up to me to get the puck to Vaughn and create opportunities to score. My speed also helped me get into positions to block others quickly. I might not join in any fights, but I would prevent the other team from even trying.

It didn’t help that my original contract was up at the end of this season. Two seasons seemed so long when I first signed it. I was excited about anything at that point, but I didn’t realize how fast they would fly by.

My agent was already in talks with the Fury’s general manager, and I was hoping to stay, but my performance through the rest of the series would greatly impact their decision. I’d only been with the Fury for two years, not quite long enough to cement myself as a key player. But I’d also been here for the past two championships. I helped get us there. That had to help my case. It was also an attractive feature for other teams. Unfortunately, what I wanted and what my best options were might not be the same. I might not even get the chance to stay. As much as I hated the waiting, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. The only control I had was playing my best and helping us win.

As if there wasn’t enough pressure on me. I shook my head as Coach Romney gave another motivating speech, and Hartman followed up with one to get us pumped.

“They think they already have this ‘W’ but we’re not going to let them win. We will give everything we have tonight. I don’t want anyone holding back.” He glanced at the tunnel where the coaches had already left to get to the ice. “We’re not normally a team that fights, but they don’t play by those rules. I’m not saying to start anything, but don’t be afraid to throw off the gloves. We have one of the best penalty kill percentages in the league. We can handle them if it comes to power plays.”

I wasn’t that surprised by his command. They played dirty, and we weren’t going to win by ignoring that like we had. He was giving us the green light to foul. We practiced four-man plays for this purpose. We weren’t necessarily sinking to their level, but we were preparing for what had to be done. None of us wanted to lose to the Storm.

He started our chant, and Derek stood to lead us out.

I sucked in a breath through my nose and released it slowly through my mouth. We were ready for this. The lights were brighter, the crowd louder, and the energy amped up. I spotted more of our jerseys tonight and purposely didn’t try to find the Pride. Taylor might be with them, but it was better not to know. It didn’t matter. Her presence wouldn’t change anything, other than distracting me.

Carmen never entered my mind during games. Even the nights I made sure there were tickets for her. Why then, was Taylor such a temptation?

“Dumoulin!” Noah shouted, and I took my warm-up shot at Olli without thinking. He blocked it, and I skated to the back of the line.

No more. I shook my head and locked everything that didn’t matter to this game back in the vault. I ran through the new plays in my mind. Vaughn preferred shooting from the right. His sweet spot was just a few feet above the edge of the goalie’s crease. So I needed to make sure he could get close enough.

The game started, and Hartman led the first line onto the ice. He won the faceoff, and Erik took off toward the Storm’s goal. My eyes followed the puck from Erik to Reese to Noah to Hartman. I knew the play, but their speed was something I’d never seen before. It was like they were playing in fast-forward. The guys started cheering, slamming their sticks against the board. If we could keep up this energy, we’d tire the Storm out by the second period. They’d be too slow to hurt any of us.

Hartman signaled for the line change, and the second line hit the ice like they were headed into battle.

Vaughn scooted closer to me to make room for the first line to rest. “Ready?”

I nodded while controlling my breathing. I was too excited, and I needed to calm down, make sure my head was clear. We couldn’t afford any mistakes, no missed passes or bad shots. I needed to be completely focused. If something did go wrong, it would not be on me.

It was time. I threw my legs over the board and waited for the guys to come in before jumping onto the ice. The buzz from the audience and the fast-paced nature of the game filled my body. Vaughn called out the play, and I followed by mere muscle memory. Grant passed me the puck, and I stopped suddenly, spun, and shot it to Jones. He slapped it to Vaughn a breath before getting slammed into the boards. I watched long enough to know he was fine before skating toward the Storm’s goal. Another bang sounded, and I checked over my shoulder to see Grant down with one of their defensemen standing over him. Vaughn was in front of me. He needed me on his right, so I told myself Grant was fine and moved into position.

BANG!

Vaughn had been about to shoot on the goal when a player slammed into him from behind. It was a bad hit, and the refs called it.

I took a deep breath as we moved to the faceoff. Vaughn won and sent the puck behind him to Grant. Things continued to escalate from there. Shoving and checking grew more aggressive. I took a few bad hits, only one of them was called though.

By the middle of the second period, we were tiring out. We were beaten up and covering any injuries to keep from being taken out of the game. I noticed Reese limping and Colin favoring his left shoulder, turning away to protect it from getting hit whenever someone was close.

I wasn’t sure how much more of this we could take. Through the end of the game, sure, but the series wasn’t close to being over. No matter what, we would have two more games after this. That was only if the same team continued to win without interruption. Worst case, we had four more games against them.

The long-term effect of that worried me. Nikolai was already out for three to six months, which could roll into next season. How many others would fall victim?

We made it through the second period without anyone being taken off the ice on a stretcher. No, that didn’t happen until five minutes into the third.

The crack was so loud. Distinct over the roaring crowd. The second Hartman’s body hit the ground everything went silent. No music, no cheering, no booing. Just the echo of the whistle and the squeak of shoes on the ice.

It all happened in slow motion. Hartman skating away from our goal. A giant of a defenseman coming directly toward him at full speed. Bending down to focus the impact into Hartman’s core. Both of them soaring into the boards. Hartman’s helmet hitting and then flying several yards away. How the defenseman rolled off of him and skated away like he hadn’t just tried to kill our captain. Then silence.

No movement. No grunt or cry.