Page 27 of Power Play

I know it’s part of the job.

I know it comes with playing in a high-contact sport that makes us seem tough and strong.

But,fuck, the fan obsession is weird.

Ethan had a stalker last year, a woman who showed up at every away game and stared at him from five rows behind our bench.

Grant gets messages on social media from fans asking how much they’d have to pay to spend a night with him.

Photos of Hudson walking his dogs shirtless in the middle of summer were used in an anonymous TikTok video, and he still hasn’t figured out who took the pictures.

The sexualization is creepy as fuck, but the male fans are even worse.

After game five of the finals last year, my posts were swarmed with comments about how I should kill myself because I don’t know how to do my job. There were mentions of letting my city down and being a disgrace.

And when they found Alana’s account and said they were going to hurt her like I hurt the Stars fans’ championship dreams?

I almost stopped playing altogether.

This sport is my lifeline though, and I don’t want to give those asshats the satisfaction of having a hold over me.

They can all fuck off.

“Fifteen minutes to go,” Riley says, huddling up with us. “Their offense looks gassed. Think if we keep playing them close and save our breakaways for the last few minutes, we’ll be able to put this one in the bag.”

Ethan snorts. “I’m tempted to lose the next face-off just to fuck with them.”

“I kind of want to rile them up, land one of them in the sin bin and earn a power play where we can crush their spirits,” Maverick says. “Fuck that they’re champions.”

“Grant said if we win, we’re going to a country bar downtown.”

“A country bar in Canada?” Hudson asks. “Sounds like something we’d find in those cowboy romances we’ve been reading at book club.”

“I love the cowboy romances,” Riley agrees.

I toss my bottle on the back of the goal and squat, ready for the next play. “Now I’m purposely going to let one past me so I don’t have to get on a mechanical bull. And cowboy romances? What the fuck?”

“He fucks the nanny. It’s hot,” Ethan argues. “And don’t get me started on the relationship she has with his kid.”

“I’d pay good money to see Goalie Daddy on a bull.” Maverick looks at Hudson, Riley, Ethan and Finn Adams, our left wing. “We need to pull out this victory boys, so we can get Liam in a cowboy hat.”

“I will murder you,” I growl, and the ref blows his whistle again. “If you don’t get your asses back on the line, I’m going to intentionally throw the puck out of the playing area to give them the delay of game advantage so I don’t have to listen to you squawk. Get away from me and let me do my job, you fucking dogs.”

Ethan salutes me and takes off toward our opponents for the face-off. “Yes, sir.”

Maverick barks and skates away with more power than I’ve seen from him all game. Hudson and Riley hang back with me and get in their defensive stances.

“You know you probably encouraged him to get a hat trick, right?” Hudson laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“At least it would lock up this game,” I say. “I’m tired.”

“I wonder if the girls will go to the cowboy bar.” Riley shifts to his left, knowing the Bulls players tend to play against the boards closest to their bench. “Lexi always makes the night more fun.”

“If you shut up and stop these guys from getting close to the goal, I’ll buy you a beer at this goddamn cowboy bar so you have a shit ton of fun,” I say.

“Your wish is my command, GK,” Riley yells, passing the puck to Finn over the red line and following after him.

I know I made a deal with the devil, but as Maverick rears his stick back and sinks a beautiful slap shot that will undoubtedly be on ESPN’s Top Ten plays tomorrow morning, I don’t give a shit about anything besides a win.

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