Page 25 of Going All In

“With who?”

“No one. I never nap with anyone. That time is sacred,” he said. While a large percentage of hockey players had multiple superstitions that they stuck to religiously, Jake didn’t. He just liked his solo naps before a game. He wasn’t counting chicken breasts or water bottles. Or spinning around in four circles before stepping on the ice.

Seriously. Some of the guys had the weirdest superstitions.

“All right, we have a few things to go over,” Bugsy called out, and they all turned their attention to their coach.

He repeated the lines for tonight. No changes. Jake was still with Harty and Cheesy. They’d held strong once they’d been paired up early in the season. Jake and Harty had been linemates for the entire time they were both playing in New York. There was a chemistry that couldn’t be denied, and Jake had to hope that it would count for something in management’s decision to keep him.

Jake could think of at least a handful of current players in the league that should be racking up goals, but they didn’t have chemistry with the guys on their line. It made a difference.

After Bugsy’s speech, they headed onto the ice for warmups. The music pumped through the arena, their opponents already skating around one end of the ice, and Jake was fired up. He lined up with most of the guys to fire pucks on Booksy, their backup goalie.

Jake loved the energy of being on the ice. Had since he was young enough to beg his mom for skates and ice time. She hadn’t been able to go to a lot of his games because of the demands of her job as an investment banker and being a single mother, but his grandmother hadn’t missed a game. She’d yell his name from the stands and jump up from her seat when he scored a goal.

She told him to keep scoring because the bleachers were cold as shit and she needed to move every so often so she didn’t freeze. He missed both of them so much, but his mom had promised to leave work at a normal hour and go to the game with his grandmother the next time the Strikers were in Chicago.

Tonight’s goal was to not get a scolding text from his grandmother for fighting or stupid penalties. Though she had agreed that Smithy had taken a dive the other night. Jake swore that the woman must compare notes with Ralph because the subjects of their texts could be eerily similar.

***

Two hours later,Jake found himself in the middle of a battle for the puck against the wall. There were five minutes left in the second period and the Strikers were up two to one over Calgary.

Jake was determined to make it three to one. He kept his elbows low, focused only on the puck and not getting called for slashing or hooking or anything else. He felt the butt of the Calgary forward’s stick in his shoulder, but he pressed on, twisting away, the puck in his possession.

He skated around the back of Calgary’s net, looking for his opening—or anyone’s for that matter—and caught sight of Cheesy hovering at the side face-off dot. He fired it toward his captain and got in a better position at the corner of the net.

Cheesy lifted his stick like he was going to one-time it into the back of the net, but he sent it flying back to Jake instead. Without a second to think about it, Jake fired it at the net. The puck slid between the goalie’s spread feet and the goal horn blared.

“Fuck yeah,” Jake shouted as his teammates plowed into him, hugs all around, before they skated in a line past their bench, tapping gloves with the rest of the team.

The crowd roared their approval and Jake grinned. Hopefully, the rest of the game would go this well. They were on fire tonight, had been for the last three weeks. They were heading toward the back end of the season and every point counted. Especially with Vegas always on their heels. The Strikers were first in their division right now and they wanted to keep it that way.

***

“Great game, guys,”Adam said two hours later when Jake walked into Crash and Byrne with a few of his teammates.

They’d gone on to win six-three. Jake had gotten the empty-net goal at the end when Calgary had pulled their goalie.

But now Jake had a new focus. Darcy was here. She’d texted him after the game to say congrats and that she’d see him at the bar. She’d also texted a few woohoos when he’d scored his goals.

He’d loved seeing those messages. She’d even added a few emojis, including a horn and a hockey stick.

He was lying when he told himself that he wasn’t a tiny bit nervous about how this was going to go tonight. There would be a lot of eyes on him and they had to make it believable.

He spotted her sitting at the corner of the bar with Ally. She stared at her drink, her fingers skating up and down the pint glass.

He pulled out his phone and sent her a text.

Jake:Don’t look so nervous. I only bite if you ask.

He watched her grab her phone. She snorted and lifted her head to look around. When she spotted him, she softly shook her head. He’d come to realize that was her you’re ridiculous headshake.

She would probably have to use that a lot.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked as he sidled up behind her barstool. He placed his hand at the small of her back and heard her indrawn breath.

“Hello to you too,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him.

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