Page 14 of Power Play

4

Liam

We won the Stanley Cup. In overtime. A god damn story book ending. Harrison scored the prettiest goal. A total sweetheart from behind the net. A little chip shot that had made its way over McNamera’s shoulder into the three-hole.

The goal light blew up and my soul left my body.

It might still be gone. It might never come back. Lifting that cup, passing it from teammate to teammate. Kissing it. Hugging the damn thing – it was a childhood dream come true.

My whole body was sticky from champagne and sweat. A fair number of tears. Call me whatever you want – the press probably would - but you stand in my skates and tell me you wouldn’t cry?

Bullshit.

Except all my happiness came with a dark cloud. The Bruisers winning, meant the Peaks lost.

I had won. My brother had lost.

It was all…what was that expression? Sour candy?

Drunk on victory and fighting tears, I showered with a champagne bottle in hand.

“To Rousseaux!” I shouted, and in the steam surrounding me, was the echo of my teammates joining me in my tribute. My brothers from another mother. My family. I loved these guys.

But right now, I especially loved Rousseaux.

The game had come down to goalies and our belligerent Quebecois was just better tonight. Stand-on-his-head, nothing-got-past-him good. I would tell him that once he got out of the ice bath. Poor guy’s groin was probably never going to be the same.

Pushing my face in the hot shower spray, I winced as the water met all the scrapes on my skin. It had been a battle tonight. Epic. I’d been right about my brother’s legs. They’d burned him out in games five and six. Putting it all on the line, and tonight, Wyatt had been good, but he was missing a step.

And no one knew how to capitalize on my brother missing a step quite like me. It almost didn’t seem fair. I knew my brother’s weaknesses better than I knew my own strengths.

Just like I knew right now he was beating himself up something vicious.

The music was pumping through the locker room and the party that they were putting together over at a Denver nightclub was going to be lit. It sucked that we’d won on enemy ice, but in some ways it was better, because tonight would just be our night, the team’s night.

Later we could celebrate with the fans back home.

I wondered if I could get my brother to go. Fuck winners and losers, we were still brothers. Although knowing Wyatt, he’d probably just want to feel shitty. Maybe break some shit.

But if instead he was surrounded by some pretty girls? A few drinks? All in the celebration of the brotherhood of hockey?Maybe he’d relax. Maybe he’d forgive himself for that second period and his tired legs.

Doubtful.

“Hey Liam!” Natalie Dempsey shouted from just beyond the row of showers in the visiting locker room. Natalie was our media relations expert and she’d been working overtime.

“Hello Natalie!” I shouted back at her. The steam was so thick in the shower room I knew she couldn’t see me, much less my junk. Not that it mattered. We were used to women in the locker room at this point. The only guys it seemed to bother were the corn-fed rookies, who stammered and blushed and put their hands over their business. Or the chauvinists who made a point of trying to make the female staff uncomfortable.

Whenever we got one of those, Rousseaux and I made a point of teaching him some manners.

The steam surrounding me echoed with all the guys saying hello to Natalie.

We were loose and giddy. Inside each of us was the kid who’d dreamt of this moment and we were letting that kid have his flowers.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up,” her voice drifted over to me. “Your brother is up next in the press room.”

I cranked off the water. Finished my champagne and went out to get dressed.

I wasn’t going to let him do that alone.

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