Page 381 of Power Play

The ice seemed endless beneath the lights. Snow gathered in the exposed corners of the stadium while music thundered from speakers mounted above the stands. Minnesota fans filled one side in silver and navy, while Frost fans owned the other in black, blue, and white. They pounded the glass hard enough to make it flex whenever one of us drove an Ice player into the boards.

The rivalry didn’t feel manufactured because these teams fucking hated each other.

By the middle of the first period, blood smeared one section of glass, two helmets had been knocked loose, and Coach Waters threatened to staple Keller’s ass to the bench if he took another retaliation penalty.

Minnesota scored first when Gray stopped the initial shot, but the rebound escaped beneath his pad. Their center slammed it home before Keller could clear the crease. The Ice bench erupted, their fans answered, and the temperature inside Frost Lake seemed to drop another ten degrees.

Gray struck his stick against the post as the puck returned to center.

“My fault,” Keller told him.

“No shit,” Gray answered.

Keller tapped his glove against Gray’s helmet before skating into position. Hollis lined up beside me for the faceoff, rolling his shoulders beneath his jersey. He was fast enough to turn a neutral-zone mistake into a breakaway and calm enough that nothing rattled him for longer than three seconds.

“You planning to let them keep that?” he asked.

“Fuck no.”

“Good. I hate losing in weather.”

“You hate everything in weather.”

“Correct.”

The puck dropped.

Minnesota tried to suffocate the middle of the ice, crowding our lanes and closing around Hollis whenever he carried it across the blue line. They knew our line liked speed, and they knew I preferred taking the outside before cutting inward once their defense committed.

Knowing wasn’t the same as stopping it.

Six minutes after their goal, Hollis dug the puck out of the corner, took a shoulder against the glass, and stayed upright long enough to kick it toward me. I caught it on my backhand as one of Minnesota’s defensemen stepped into the lane and reached with his stick.

I dragged the puck around him, shifted my weight, and buried it over the goalie’s blocker.

The sound that followed hit harder than the check that drove me into the boards. I pushed away from the glass with my fist raised while Hollis crashed into my shoulder and Keller shouted something I couldn’t hear over the crowd.

My eyes moved toward the seats above the Frost bench, and I found my people immediately.

Cade stood in the front row with Bliss tucked against his side, both of them screaming. Easton pounded the glass while Aura jumped beside him, apparently no longer forbidding him from anything. Briggs had both fists above his head, and Rider held the back of his coat to keep him from throwing his entire body over the barrier. Gayle, Skylar, and Vivi filled the seats beside them, with the Bennetts occupying the row behind them.

Charm wasn’t there.

The realization entered quickly enough that no one watching me would’ve noticed, but I looked again anyway. Bliss, Aura, Gayle, Skylar, and Vivi stood together beneath the lights. There was no strawberry-blond hair, no pale face, and no woman trying to smile through her fear while wearing my name across her back.

Hollis hit the back of my helmet. “You planning to celebrate or conduct a census?”

I forced my attention away from the stands. “I scored, didn’t I?”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

“Fuck off.”

Coach Waters stepped in front of us when we reached the bench. “Decker, excellent goal. You have ten seconds to remember you’re still playing hockey.”

“I remember.”

His gaze searched my face before he nodded. “Good. Minnesota certainly does.”