Page 4

I know these players. I know how they move. I know which defensemen like to carry the puck and which would rather make a simple pass. I know who gets impatient when the forecheck closes in and who will slow the play down instead of forcing something that isn’t there. I know Lenzin’s habits well enough to predict when he’ll take a risk before he even commits. I know Aleks, too, and tonight, something is off.

Sofie leans forward. “What’s he doing?”

I follow her gaze across the ice. Reznik. Number twenty-seven. Chicago’s right wing.

I’ve heard his name enough times to recognize him, even if I haven’t paid him much personal attention. Lenzin has mentioned him often enough, usually with the same expression he gets when someone becomes a persistent irritation.

Lenzin called him a pain in the ass when we sat at their house watching Chicago’s game film last night. He paused the screen more than once, pointing out Reznik’s positioning, the way he attacked the ice, and how he seems to find space where there isn’t enough.

I hadn’t been particularly interested. Until now.

Reznik isn’t doing what you expect him to do on the ice; he’s not looking for the puck, no, he’s looking for Aleks, and now he’s locked in.

I glance at Lenzin and see he’s already picked up on this; it’s obviously his job.

“This isn’t going to be good.” I sigh.

Sofie looks at me. “With whom?”

She already knows, but I answer anyway, “Aleks.”

She watches for another few seconds. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve known him long enough to recognize the difference between his usual arrogance and whatever this is.” I wave toward the glass, eyes glued to the ice.

Paul grumbles, “His shoulders are tighter. His movements are sharper. He’s amping up for something.”

Then Reznik closes the distance, and he’s fast. Not just fast in the obvious way. There are plenty of fast players. Reznik changes direction without losing speed. He seems to explode into open ice, then disappears just as quickly.

Sofie whistles under her breath. “Reznik.”

“Lenzin mentioned him last night,” Hildy says, leaning forward now, too.

“He said pain in the ass,” Lucy announces, and I nearly die. “That’s not a nice word. He shouldn’t say it, right?”

Paul chuckles. “Probably not, kiddo. But if the shoe fits…”

“Paul.” Nalani scolds him.

I’m half wrapped up in this very entertaining conversation and half watching the storm brewing on the ice.

Paul leans forward now, which means Savannah, by physics alone, does too. I pull up my phone to take a picture of them all but kissing the glass, intent on sending it to Lenzin and Aleks in hopes it makes them smile, after whatever happens in this game… happens.

I sincerely hope I didn’t manifest what I am seeing; I think as the seconds tick down. Each passing moment, it becomes even more obvious that Reznik is, as Lucy said, a pain in the ass. He keeps finding Aleks, not illegally, not yet anyway. Just enough. A shoulder, a word, a look.

To the untrained eye of someone who hasn’t known Aleks, aka ‘The Killer,’ it would look like he’s ignoring him, playing by the rules. His fans and haters alike assume he’s trying his best to tamp down that infamous temper. They’re not just waiting; they want him to snap. Aleks Kilovac is a stunning specimen, and when he goes off, it’s magnificent.

He gives ‘good hockey’.

To those few he lets in, the ones of us who know, know him, we are very aware he’s baiting number 27.

Lucy, thankfully, is blissfully unaware. This darling child is still pressed flush against the glass, occasionally yelling. “Faulker!”

Lenzin looks up just in time to wave most every time she calls to him, and it’s totally by accident, but it’s perfect and makes her beam.

When I look back at the ice, Reznik stares at Aleks, then moments later checks him. Even from up here, I can see his jaw tighten. That familiar tension settles on his face, the tell I warned Sofie about. Whatever game Reznik thinks he’s playing, Aleks has reached the end of his patience/baiting.

Reznik says something else. I can’t hear the words, of course, but I can see Aleks’s reaction. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”