Chapter 24
“One round to go. We got this,” Cheesy shouted at the end of his pep talk.
Warmups were done, and they were about to start the first of their first home games against Boston. The Strikers had beaten St. Louis in five games, and Boston had swept Washington in four. It was going to be a tough match up, but they were ready.
They were only four wins away from hoisting the Cup. Max couldn’t fucking wait.
They were battered and bruised, patched up and iced, but the only thing Max and his teammates were focused on was winning that Cup.
He bounced his knee, ready to pop up and head back down the tunnel.
“Now, try not to fight your brother unless it’s necessary,” Harty said to Sully a few spots down.
Max laughed. “I’ll distract the refs if you want to take a swing at the punk.”
“See. Now, that’s a real friend. Thanks, Baz,” Sully said, grinning.
Liam O’Sullivan was Sully’s little brother and a shit-stirrer on the ice. He always seemed to be gunning for Sully, which made Max think that family dinners were loads of fun. Liam also happened to be on the top line in Boston, something he liked to hold over his brother’s head since Sully was on the Strikers’ second line.
“My mom asked that I avoid his face, in case they want to take a family photo at the end,” Sully said.
“I want to have dinner at your house sometime,” Max said.
“Yeah. We’re a riot. Or we start a riot. Who knows anymore,” Sully said.
The guys around them chuckled.
Ten minutes later, they were on the ice. Announcements were made, the anthem was done, and Cheesy and Liam were facing each other at center ice. Max got into position, ready to go. Adrenaline rushed through him and then Harty won the face-off and they were off.
Jake and Harty moved up the ice with Cheesy, passing the puck between them. Max kept his eye on his teammates and the puck, waiting for Boston to try and snag it. Cheesy passed the puck to Harty, and Harty knocked it back to Max, just inside the center line. Max cradled the puck on his stick, moving closer to the goalie, but he didn’t have an open shot, so he passed it to Jake.
Jake and Liam tussled for the puck against the boards, and when Jake tried to shoot the puck to Harty, one of Liam’s linemates grabbed it and they were off toward Gally. Max skated backward, weaving in front of the Boston forward, nudging his stick out to stop the man from shooting at the net.
The back and forth, up and down the ice continued until Max was able to get off the ice. His legs were gassed after two minutes, and he slid down the bench, his eyes never leaving the ice.
By the end of the first period, they were still scoreless, and Max knew this was going to be a battle. At least Sully hadn’t put his fist in his brother’s face or vice versa, but the night was still young. While Max joked and teased for fun, Liam stirred the pot, and his digs were harsh. Sully’s restraint was fierce, and Max’s drive to get the Cup was even stronger because they were playing against Boston.
Liam loved to remind his brother that a year after Sully was traded from Boston to the Strikers, Boston won the Cup. Max would love to help knock that fucker down a peg or two for his friend.
Two hours later, with six minutes left in the third period, Max hit the ice with Crow and the second line of forwards, including Sully. The game was still scoreless, and it was chippy as hell. He’d gotten into more than a few scuffles with Boston and had found himself in the box twice. At least no fights had broken out, but it’d been close.
One of the Boston forwards was skating toward him, heading for Gally in the net. When he went for the shot, Max thrust out his stick to block it. It hit the boards in the corner and the Boston player grabbed it. Max delivered a clean hit on the guy and Dom was there to get the puck. Dom passed the puck to Sully as they headed up the ice toward the Boston net. Max made sure to make a nuisance of himself in front of the Boston forwards while Dom and Sully passed the puck back and forth looking for the right angle.
Sully had the puck on his stick and then it was in the back of the net. The goal horn blared, and the crowd was off of their feet. Max barreled into Sully, knocking him back into the boards, as Crow, Dom, and Westie crashed into them in a hug.
“Fuck yeah,” Dom yelled, smacking each of them on the back.
“Sweet shot, Sully,” Max cheered, tapping Sully’s helmet with his gloved hand.
Sully had the brightest grin on his face as they skated back to the bench to tap gloves with the rest of their teammates.
Then, six minutes later, the final buzzer sounded, and Sully’s goal was the only goal of the night. The Strikers had taken game one. Three more to go and he’d be kissing that Cup. He couldn’t fucking wait.
“We’re going to stay for one drink and then head home, right?” Gabi asked when they walked toward the front door of C&B after the game. Ava had taken the kids home and told Gabi to go out and have a little fun with her boyfriend.
Max loved how much his sister was on board with his relationship with her bestie. It could’ve gone really bad if she’d objected.
“Yes, one drink. Don’t worry. Ava said she could deal with the three kids on her own. She can handle that,” he said.