Page 85 of Lace 'em Up

I flick my eyes to the clock, see that the hockey gods have been nice enough to grant me freedom from this box of hell, and jerk to my feet, reaching for the handle and yanking open the door—and doing it so quickly that the metal edge slams into Pat’s shoulder.

Ha.

Fucker.

He grunts, but I don’t apologize, just hop onto the ice, skate to the bench, and sink down beside Rome. My captain glances over at me. “How was that?”

Cam—on my other side—snorts. “Five minutes of hell.”

That.

Exactly that, but?—

“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter. I nod out to the ice. “We’re down a goal and not much time is left in the game. We’ve got to get our shit together.”

Rome nods in agreement, but he’s already looking at Cam. The youngest brother of the Jackson siblings sighs, screwing up his mouth, and I know he’s thinking. His—the Jackson brood—isn’t a family of hockey players like mine is, but they’re still obscurely famous for being connected to their adopted sister and Hollywood superstar, Sophie Jackson. Cam may be the youngest and on the quiet side, but the kid’s got a great mind.

He can draw up plays that are effective and creative, and he can do it fast.

Case in point?

Taking the next fifteen seconds before we hop onto the ice to toss three ideas our way.

One of which means that I’m cutting to the right when the puck ricochets off the boards and between the skates of a defenseman on the other team.

It means that I’m already skating balls out past him before he can react.

It means that I beat everyone to the corner, scooping up the puck and cutting hard to the net.

The other team is closing fast, and their goalie knows exactly where I am, gaze locked on me, squeezing that post, cutting off any decent angle for a shot.

Which is fine.

Because I have no plans on shooting.

Just faking one.

Which I do, watching the goalie react, flinch, bracing for the puck.

But I’m already dropping it back…

To Rome streaking in.

He doesn’t pick it up, just lets it slip by as he skates hard at the net, distracting the goalie as…

Cam receives the puck, flicks it back to me…

I shoot…

It sails into the top corner of the goal, sending the netting flying up, the red light flashing, the buzzer going.

The crowd roars as Cam and Rome barrel into me, hugging me and smacking my back as we collide with the boards.

Cheers and fans banging against the boards.

“Fuck yeahs!” from my teammates.

That high that only comes from when something goes really, really right.

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