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I’m on Huntley Knight as the first period ticks over in what seems like a flash.
It’s safe to say he’s hard to beat, always trying to get around me, but I’m not letting him in. My footwork and instincts kick in. I’m not letting my game slip because of all my personal problems. If anything, I put all of my frustration and angst into the play.
It’s been all over the news about my dad. So everyone will be talking about it since it’s only been a few days since the funeral. Maybe people aren’t expecting me to be here, but it would be no way for my dad to see me sitting this one out, even if he never showed interest in the game. When things got tough, that’s when you had to step up. He was always saying it. Of course, he meant in business. He didn’t step up a great deal while we were growing up, and that part will always make me sad.
I charge like a bull in defense, feeling extra fueled tonight. “Taking no prisoners,” Jay comments to me at the first-period break after we’ve scored two goals to one for Los Angeles. We only play two-game sets in these kinds of games.
“You’re gonna be giving Huntley Knight some bruises to go home with.” Jay shakes his head, patting me on the shoulder.
“All in the name of the game,” I tell him.
“That block in the last minute, fuck me, ramming the kid into the glass for charity,” Tyler muses.
“You can talk!” I retort. He’s the captain, and one of the toughest amongst us. He knows the right amount of pressure to add to an opponent, and when to pull back, but there’s times when he has moments of his own and he does something unpredictable. You can’t be perfect all the fucking time.
Tyler shrugs indifferently. “My fucking back is aching like a bitch, though.”
“You good?” Taylor asks him.
He’s been having a few problems with his back that don’t seem to be getting better. He tries his best to hide all of this from the team doctors. “I’m good,” he tells us. He wouldn’t say otherwise, especially with Coach hovering.
I guess, as captain, he sees it as his job to hold it all together and keep the rest of us pumped.
In the second quarter, we scored another three goals to their one. Taylor and I are on fire as I slide the puck, dodging Los Angeles’ defense, making a fake pass to our youngest winger, Jake Hudson, and sliding it to Taylor instead. He pulls his arm back up to his shoulder in complete slapper mode, violently slapping the ice slightly behind the puck, using his weight to bend the stick. The bending gives the slapshot its speed; it shoots into the net faster than you can blink. The crowd cheers and roars around us as Taylor waves his stick in the air in his signature move.
I skate up and slap him on the back.
“We still make a good team,” he tells me, grinning from ear to ear.
“Never doubted it.” I pat him on the shoulders. I glance to the left of the players’ bench, and see Maddison behind the glass with Cindy, Emmerson, and Susie.
I can also see my family sitting behind them. I made sure Kate could get her wheelchair into the stadium without any hassle.
My heart pumps faster seeing Mads here, just like the first time I saw her wearing my jersey. Now she’s wearing the complete kit, Hawks cap, player’s jacket, and waving a little Hawks flag in the air. I could jump over the player’s bench and make my way right over to her in a heartbeat. The thought makes me smile.
I’ll be doing a lot more than that later.
We share a second of eye contact, and I see she’s smiling. I’m smiling, too, as I nod to her skating past.
I pick up my defense even more, not leaving Huntley Knight’s side, and he’s getting pretty sick of me. If he thought I was going to slacken off because it’s a charity game before pre-season, he can think again. I’m all in until the final buzzer.
We won the game five goals to two.
Skating over to the players’ bench, I stand in front of the glass between me and Maddison. I take my helmet off and indicate to her to come forwards.
I slide over to the player’s door, where there’s no barrier.
Her cheeks look so fucking pink and flushed from the cold.
“You good?” I ask her, not caring that the guys are all looking at us and I should probably be celebrating the win.
“I’m good,” she says, reaching to me and wrapping her arms around my neck.
I kiss her, not caring who the fuck sees. Even my family, because I know they’re watching us. They can televise it for all I care.
“I love you,” I whisper, pulling back to look at her. I don’t care who hears me.
“I love you, too, Ash. You looked so good out there. Brutal, but awesome.”
