“Ohmygod!” I cry out, clutching Caleb’s arm. My voice is echoed by the gasps and cheers of half the arena as Jake makes another brutal check of a Kraken forward, sending him spinning down onto the ice.
Caleb is grinning like its Christmas. We’re only eight minutes into the first period, and already the Rays have scored a goal. The offense is skating like a real line tonight, and Jake and the defense are sending Krakens into the boards left and right. Usually, this level of aggression is saved for a bit later in the game, but the other defense pairings are feeding off Jake’s chaotic energy.
As the Krakens try to bring the puck down into our zone, he makes a brutal check against the boards right in front of us, the fans all around us pounding on the glass as he fights with the forward for control of the puck. Their grunts and the sound of their pads slamming the plexiglass filling the air.
Poppy nearly loses control of her bucket of popcorn. “Why is he so angry?”
Caleb just laughs, nudging me in the ribs with a knowing wink.
“Get it out!”
“Fight!”
“FIGHT!!”
The fans around us are rabid, jeering Jake on in his mania. With an almighty shove of his shoulder, he crunches the guy against the plexiglass before shooting off, moving the puck with his stick, and passing it down to Langley.
We settle back in our seats, the crowd around us cursing and moaning that there was no fight.
“See?” Cay says with a grin, “He’s on fire tonight. They’ll win, and they’ll owe it all to you, Hurricane.”
I fold my arms tight over my Kinnunen jersey. This was a huge mistake.
Third period has officially started and I’m an emotional wreck. The score is stuck at 1-0, with the Rays holding onto their lead. This game is quickly devolving into a brawl. The Kraken have had enough of Jake’s pound and grind. They’ve pulled a big scary guy off their bench. He must be a fourth line guy. He’s not even trying to work the puck. He’s out there to work Jake. He’s all too pleased to chase him around the ice, meeting him check for check.
If I have to swallow one more scream, I swear I’m gonna choke on my tongue. I don’t know how Jake still has the energy. Every shift he’s leaving it all on the ice and when he gets back to the bench he stays dialed in, watching the action, waiting to rejoin the fray.
And Ilmari has been a machine. The Kraken brought the heat late in the second period, hungry for a point before the intermission. He was at the far end goal for all that action. It was all I could do to just scream and hold to Caleb’s hand as we watched him battle it out on his knees, using his body as a wall to stop that puck again and again.
Now he’s back at our end of the rink for the final period, and the Kraken’s center is on a breakaway after a nasty steal. The man is small and fast like a bullet, darting away from Karlsson. Jake and Novy scramble to untangle from their blockers and get to Ilmari’s aid. Jake cuts down the ice. The sound of his blades slicing echoes in my ears as he pushes for more speed.
“He’s not gonna make it,” Caleb shouts, gripping my hand. “Mars is on his own—come on, Mars! Come on!”
“Block it!”
Everyone around us is screaming and I’m just frozen in time, watching as Ilmari faces off against this fleet-footed forward. The man gets fancy, distracting Mars with his combination of footwork and puck handling as he races down the ice. It all happens in seconds as the forward shoots left while slinging his stick out behind him, trying for a hook shot into the right corner of Ilmari’s net.
But Ilmari didn’t fake with him. His instincts are honed to perfection as he stays still, his glove hand darting out to fill the hole the forward expected him to make.
Heart in my chest, I forget to breathe as I stand there with the crowd, eyes locked on Ilmari. We all seemed to have blinked and missed it. Casual as can be, Ilmari tips his glove down, dropping the puck at his feet.
Saved.
Effortless. A god on ice.
Sully squares off for the puck drop and wins the fight, sending it behind to a waiting Jake. He barrels forward with it, over the red line, heading straight towards the goal. I swear I’m gonna die from this stress as Caleb all but strangles me, shouting at Jake to pass it.
Jake moves the puck, shooting it past a Kraken to a waiting Langley, who tips it into the back of the net.
Goal.
Rays 2. Kraken 0.
And just like that, our furious grinder earned himself an assist. The crowd goes wild. To either side of me, Caleb and Poppy jump up and down.
“God, I fucking love hockey!” Caleb shouts, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing my cheek.
I can’t help but smile, lost in the euphoria of an arena of eager Rays fans. But then I go still, a presence pulling at me. My gaze darts right to where a lonely Ilmari stands, guarding his posts. He’s looking right at me. He’s watching me, waiting for me to notice him. My goalie wants to be seen. He wants me to see him.
The Rays all skate back down to their end of the ice and Ilmari moves out, ready to congratulate Langley for his goal. Langley taps his helmet against Ilmari’s as they pat shoulders. I watch, pulse thrumming, as Mars reaches for Jake next, their helmets touching. They hold longer than Mars and Langley. Slowly, Jake nods. Then he’s skating off towards the bench and Ilmari shifts back into position, ready to guard his net.
It’s in that moment that the most delicious little idea slips into my head. What’s the old saying? Two hockey players, one puck?
I reach for Cay, looping my arm in his. “When the game ends, trade jerseys with me.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I say with a grin.
He glances down at me, those dark brows narrowed. He works through my angle in his mind, the gears churning fast. His carefree smile turns to a matching grin as he leans in. “Oh, you really are out here fixing to get me killed tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” I sing. “The boys might just let you beg for mercy.”
