Page 28 of Slap Shots & Sweethearts

"What are you smiling about?" Coach asks.

I drop the smile. "Nothing Coach."

"That's right." Coach tells me and turns to the rest of the team "Nothing is what we have on the scoreboard. Let's fix it."

He goes into his spiel that's part pep talk, part criticism, and a reminder to stay focused and keep going. By the time he finishes we have two minutes to get our heads on straight, and I pull my phone from my locker just long enough to text a thought to the number that I saw on the screen.

I exchange a nod with Lou. We're in this together and we won't back down. I take a long swig of my water bottle, and the cold drink feels good as it goes down.

We head back out to the ice, and as we warm up I lock eyes with the defenseman who’s been shadowing me. There’s a fire in his gaze, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. The second period is going to be even tougher, and we both relish the challenge.

The second period is just as hard as the first. But I notice that the defenseman is slowing just a bit more than I am. His moves are getting just a touch more sloppy, and he's getting mad. We're close to wrapping up the second period and Nate hits the puck my way. I move my stick to receive it, and a blur moves in front of me.

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain as a stick comes up and strikes me across the face. Instinctively I bring up my glove to defend and bat it away.

The referee blows the whistle and play stops.

My teammates circle around me as the ref calls high sticking on the goon. It's a two-minute penalty and the adrenaline is protecting me from feeling most of it. I have no doubt that I'm going to have a good bruise and maybe even a black eye tomorrow.

"Bench," Nate orders me. "Get checked out."

"Yes Dad." I salute him to let him know I feel fine.

As one of the oldest players on the team, and resident single dad, he just shakes his head at me and makes sure that the rest of the team isn't getting into any fights on my behalf.

A trainer checks me over when I'm in the boards, and Coach has me sit out while our team has the power play. Doesn't seem fair to me that I have to sit out when I'm the injured party. But that's life and hockey. Nate and Lou avenge my injury by scoring the first goal of the night.

The arena goes wild. Lights flash, screaming and yelling, and I try to find Hannah amidst it all. When I finally find her I'm surprised to find her sitting behind the team bench with Lia and some other ladies.

Her mouth moves, and even though I can't hear her over the roar of the stadium I can tell she's asking if I'm okay.

"Fine," I tell her back.

She nods, and the trainer slaps me in the face with an ice pack. I turn away from Hannah, and hold the cold pack to bruise. Gameplay resumes.

"You're sitting out until third period," Coach tells me as the ref gets ready to drop the puck again.

I look up to check the clock. There's thirty more seconds on the clock. A lot can happen in that time. Which I'm reminded of when I see my message, the one I'd texted the number earlier, up on the Jumbotron.

I can feel my ears burning as I resist the urge to turn around and see what Hannah's face looks like.

Up on the screen in black and white it says.

H. I'd be your trivia partner if you'd let me.

Will she know it's for her? I really hope so.

The second period ends, and the team goes back to the locker room. Coach doesn't press as hard now that we have a point on the board. He mostly reminds us about not letting off the gas now that the finish line is so close.

I hold the ice to my face as long as I can, then pull it away.

"Oh look at that shiner!" Lou exclaims, before telling me, "Good thing you weren't pretty to begin with."

I throw the ice pack at him. "Better than your face."

"Yeah Lou." Blake, one of our goons says. "Did you see the message for you on the big screen while the ref called the penalty?"

"What message?" Lou asks.

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