WE’VE BEEN SUCKING for two periods straight.
I hop off the bench and skate onto the ice for what will be my last shift of the period. Down by two goals—and it should have been more, but Remmy has stepped up with the saves—we’ve been chasing Boston College the whole game. Pissed off from yesterday’s loss, I’m sure, they came out faster, grinding harder. We’ve been stuck playing catch up, and the longer the game has gone on, the worse I’ve been playing. The last goal we let in happened because I totally misread a pass. A stupid mistake, and a costly one.
We execute a neat forecheck and get the puck back; Evan passes to Mickey, who passes to Brandon. He attempts a wrist shot, but the BC goalie snuffs it with his mitt. The seconds trickle down, and before we can try to go for the goal again, the period ends. I shake my head, wiping my sleeve across my face. Whatever boost I had during yesterday’s game has completely dissipated. I need to regain my focus for one more period. Not just to wrestle the game back, but to keep everyone’s energy high. My play on the ice matters, but an excellent captain doesn’t just lead by example. He inspires the guys to give their all, too. If I come into the locker room full of frustration, it will influence other guys on the team, especially the freshmen. The clearer we are mentally, the better we’ll play.
The cheers and chanting of the crowd echo around the arena as we skate to the bench. Even though there’s a football game this afternoon, there are plenty of students and fans in the stands. The football team isn’t nearly as good as it was when James was here, anyway, and there’s always a lot of excitement around the beginning of the hockey season.
In the locker room, I take advantage of the break to cool down, rehydrate, and breathe. Coach Ryder and his assistants lead a quick meeting to go over adjustments we can make in the third period to gain an edge. To my grim satisfaction, Brandon throws his gloves and snaps at a freshman over a turnover, which means Coach looks to me, not him, to say a few words from the player’s perspective before we head back on the ice.
“It’s not over until it’s over,” I say, looking at the group. They’re as sweaty and winded as I am, but we have another twenty to play, and part of hockey is endurance. Can your legs go the entire game? Can you outlast your opponent? Can you grind until you have nothing left in the tank, and then can you grind a little more? I straighten up further, tapping my stick against the floor. “We need to focus and execute. It feels like a tall order, but we’re only down by two goals, and we can make up that difference. I know that every single one of you has another period left in you, so let’s fucking get it done.”
When we come back out of the tunnel, Coach Ryder is standing off to the side—with his daughter. I freeze in place, nearly colliding with Remmy. Coach has his arm around Penny, who’s wearing a purple McKee knit cap with a pom-pom on top. My mouth feels parched, suddenly. The royal purple looks good with her hair, and the pom-pom adds an almost unspeakable level of cuteness. Until now, I’ve tried to keep her out of my mind, but now every second of last night comes flooding back.
“Thanks, Dad,” Penny is saying. “Sorry, I just couldn’t wait until the end of the game.”
“I’m just glad you’re finally here,” he replies. He gestures for me to come over. “Callahan, look who joined us for the game.”
“Hi,” I say. “Um, that’s cool.”
“Penny is confident we’ll come back,” Coach says. “Right, bug?”
She attempts a wink, but it’s more like an exaggerated blink in my general direction. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Why that’s so endearing, I have no idea, but it makes my lingering frustration at the game melt away.
“Score a goal for me, Callahan,” she says. She leans up and kisses her dad on the cheek—and then hugs me before heading back to the stands.
Coach must not notice that I’m as stunned as a bear with a tranquilizer in the ass, because he just claps my shoulder and says, “You heard her.”
I manage a smile that I’m hoping looks semi-normal. A hug. What the fuck does a hug mean?
“Doesn’t matter who scores as long as we get it done.”
THE PERIOD PASSES IN A BLINK, and soon we’re at the five-minute marker.
As a team, we’ve rallied, but we’re still coming up short.
Individually, though?
I’m locked the fuck in.
The energy that I played with during yesterday’s game came flooding back the moment the period started. It’s like I’m a racehorse with blinders on. The crowd becomes background noise, no more noticeable than a car motor. I force BC into making mistakes and playing sloppily, rather than the other way around. Evan and I are like a pair of magnets, circling around each other, perfectly in sync, and BC has a hard time even making it past the neutral zone, much less reaching Remmy for a shot. I don’t score, but a pass to Brandon helps lead to our second goal, and when we celebrate together, he doesn’t even sound that put upon when he credits me with the assist.
And throughout it all, I’m aware of one thing.
Penny.
I don’t even know how I didn’t notice her before this, because now that I know she’s here, she’s the only person in the stands that I see. She’s cheering and clapping and shooting to her feet to yell whenever the whistle blows. If there was any doubt that she’s Coach Ryder’s daughter—and knows her hockey—that’s laid to rest five minutes into the period. She’s sitting with a couple of friends across from the benches, so whenever I get a breather, my gaze goes right to her.
I give it my all for my last shift of the game, forcing another turnover, but we can’t convert it into a goal. The game ends 3-2, but somehow, I’m feeling even better than after yesterday’s win.
When I finish up in the locker room, I swing my bag over my shoulder and hustle out into the corridor.
Penny is waiting, like I’d hoped she would be, her hands tucked into her pockets as she leans against the wall. I glance around to make sure her dad isn’t anywhere near us before tugging her into an alcove. When she hugs me again, I smell lavender. She steps back, adjusting her hat as she smiles at me.
“Two hugs, Red? I’m starting to think you like me.”
There’s a determined sort of gleam in her eyes. It’s like last night all over again, and like last night, my body can’t help but react. There’s nothing especially sexy about her outfit, and I’m sore as all hell from the game and should get myself into an ice bath, but my cock is twitching with interest.
Why did I say no to her proposition again? Clearly, past me is a massive idiot.
“Look, we need to talk,” she says. “This is your territory; do you know another closet we can go to?”
