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“SHOULD’VE PUT ONa cup first,” Harry said to Hammer, and half the guys in the room cracked up laughing.
Hammer included. “Maybe so. But at least she knows she can fucking knee a guy in the balls and it’ll work.”
“Which means 501 has officially been put on notice,” Harry said.
Another chorus of laughter and lighthearted ribbing followed that, and Jonny winked at me. He fucking winked. What the hell was that about? One of these days, I needed some time alone with him. Figure out where his head was. I knew where mine was, and I was almost positive he knew, too, but I hadn’t figured him out in terms of whether he intended to murder me the next time I fell asleep on the team plane or if he was on board with the relationship Cadence and I were building.
Hammer met my eyes once the rest of the guys quieted down and went back to preparing for tonight’s game against the Blackhawks. Winked at me, like maybe he was trying to reassure me.
I tossed him a roll of stick tape. “You’re a crazy motherfucker, you realize that?”
“Took a risk,” he replied.
It was all he needed to say, taking me back to his earlier advice for me. Take chances. Stick your neck out. Maybe take a risk or two. I nodded my understanding and finished tying my skates as Harry came to his stall beside mine and pulled on his pads.
I glanced around to be sure no one was paying us any attention. They weren’t. Everyone was busy doing his own thing to get ready for the game. Nicky was showing off the newest baby pictures of little Molly, and Ghost was telling stories about Koz’s party to anyone who’d listen—mainly telling stories about how shit-faced drunk most of us had been. He’d be aware, since he’d been the only sober guy of the bunch that night.
Then I turned back to Harry. “So what happened?” I asked, keeping my voice down.
He cast his eyes around the room before answering. “Nothing anyone needs to worry about. My lawyer’s sorting it all out.”
“You’re not in any trouble, are you? Because we can—”
“I’m fine,” he cut in. “It was only a misunderstanding. Not a big deal. Jim and the coaches know everything they need to know. My lawyer’s handling it. Shouldn’t slip out in the public, but if it does…”
“What kind of misunderstanding lands you in jail overnight?”
“I was at a party. Someone called the cops. Disturbing the peace, whatever the fuck that means. I don’t know. They ended up arresting everyone in the place, but I wasn’t part of the problem. I was…um…in the back. I wasn’t around where they were being loud and giving the cops problems. Didn’t know what was going on until they busted into the back and arrested us all.”
I raised a brow. “Sounds like your party was even more out of hand than Koz’s.” I wasn’t convinced that meant it was absolutely better than strippers, though. No one at Koz’s party ended up in jail.
“Never mind all that. Let’s get out there and beat these fuckers.”
GETTING OUT THEREand beating those fuckers was exactly what we did, too. The Blackhawks were perennial Stanley Cup favorites these days, one of the teams that ended up on the preseason lists of who was most likely to win. We were on those lists, too, these days. Especially after last season, when we’d come within a few games of accomplishing our goal.
Every guy in our locker room intended to make sure all those talking heads knew we belonged on those lists every bit as much as the Blackhawks, and this game would go a hell of a long way toward accomplishing that goal.
We beat them two to nothing. Nicky came away with the shutout, despite facing forty-seven shots. And that only accounted for the shots that got through to him. Apparently fatherhood agreed with him. The whole team was black and blue after the game from all the shots we blocked, Harry and me in particular. Ghost scored both goals. Koz got a crazy hair and decided to fight Shaw in the third; he came away bloody, but not as bloody as the other guy. Jamie had hit every Blackhawk he could line up, playing like a human battering ram all night. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t scored. He’d done everything possible to prevent the other team from landing on the scoresheet and had dug his way under their skin with his physicality.
In the end, it was a statement game, and maybe our best game all season long. We had served notice to the Blackhawks and the rest of the league that we meant business—and that if anyone but us was going to win the Cup, they were going to have to go through us.
It felt amazing.
We headed back to the room in high spirits, with “Uptown Funk,” our celebration song for the season, blaring from RJ’s iPod and speakers. Winning games like this one always seemed to make aches and pains hurt a lot less.
I stripped off my jersey and tossed it in the laundry bin as I danced my way to my stall. Harry held out a hand for everyone to fist-bump on our way past him. They all did, until Webs came into the room. Webs glowered at Harry like I’d never seen him glower before, but Harry didn’t even duck his head. He stared straight back at Webs, almost daring him to say something. What I wouldn’t give to find out what had really happened that night… Maybe I could get him drunk some night and see if he’d talk then. It was worth a shot.
Once everyone was in the room and changing, Bergy said a few words. He focused on how we’d stuck to our game plan, played a solid team game, and no one had shirked his responsibilities in either zone. It was a real team win, and an important two points.
Then Ghost stood and fished the obnoxious purple umbrella hat out of his locker. It was a stupid thing we awarded to the best player of the night each time we had a win. He’d gotten it last game, so it was his responsibility to decide who got it tonight. No chance he’d select himself, even if he’d scored both goals. That wasn’t how it worked.
I was all ready to go pat Nicky on the head again once he had this abomination on his melon, but then Ghost threw me for a loop.
“Hell of a win tonight, boys. And like Bergy said, it was a true team effort. Everyone chipped in and played their parts. Nicky held down the fort with a monster game in the net. But there’s someone I think deserves this tonight more than anyone else. We all know the boys on D have been playing above their heads all season long. Each of those guys is being asked to fill a role bigger than he’s ever filled before, and they’re kicking ass and taking names while they do it. But tonight, 501 blocked probably as many shots as the rest of the team combined. Every time I looked out there, he was dropping to the ice and absorbing rubber. Then he’d limp over to the bench, walk it off in the tunnel, and go right back out for his next shift. The guy never complained even though he’s probably purple from head to toe tonight. Not only that, but he and Harry did it while shutting down the Blackhawks’ top line, which is no small feat. So 501, this is for you.”
He crossed the room and placed that fucking thing on my head, then opened the umbrella top.
I looked like a fucking idiot. Didn’t need a mirror to realize that.
