Page 30 of Scoring Position

Overtime didn’t decide the game. Time for a shootout. Greenie skated up to get a water bottle refill and tease everyone else for leaving things up to him, again. Ragging his teammates seemed to be how Greenie calmed his nerves.

Yorkie, Granger, and Mucker were Vorhees’s first picks for a shootout. Yorkie slotted the puck in gloveside, Granger missed, and Mucker went five-hole. Unfortunately, San Jose also managed two out of three.

So now they were on to sudden death. If Ryan hated anything more than a shootout, it was sudden death. Ryan wasn’t anyone’s top pick for a shootout, and sudden death meant his number might actually get called.

It was looking more and more likely. Apparently both the opposing goaltender and Greenie were, like, offended by the first goals and were locking everyone else out. They looked stone-faced on opposite ends of the ice, neither giving an inch.

Vorhees wound through most of the team’s best players, both forward and defense, and looked increasingly pinched.

Finally he sent Ryan out to take a shot. Ryan goggled for half a second, because Nico wasright there. And maybe Ryan had heard that Nico was bad in shootouts, but he had a great record during drills, and Ryan did not.

Instead of ranting at his coach about getting more when you expect more and actually giving a goddamn compliment, Ryan moved to center ice to take his shot. Unsurprisingly, the goalie denied him.

Greenie did the same and turned back to his net to take a long drink of his Gatorade. He didn’t look tense, but he was good at playing it cool.

Vorhees chewed his gum and eyed his players. The next guy could put the game in the bag.

Ryan lingered by the open gate, flexing his ungloved right hand. He’d gotten a stinger in the third, and he took off his glove to evaluate the bruise. Probably not too gnarly.

He jerked his head up when Vorhees barked, “Kirschbaum.” He looked like he’d just bitten into an orange only to discover it was a lemon.

Nico stood and stepped onto the ice, looking like a man headed for the gallows.

Ryan couldn’t help himself. He reached out and gently caught Nico under the chin with a forefinger. Nico startled and looked him in the eye.

“Here’s looking at you, kid,” Ryan said with his best Bogart rhythm. Then he gave Nico two gentle slaps on the cheek and sent him off.

Nico stared at him for half a beat, then jerked away, as if suddenly aware of the audience and the curiosity this delay might cause. Then his mouth firmed and his brow dropped and he grumbled, “Asshole,” as he swept out onto the ice.

He was still scowling when he picked up the puck. He faked left and shot right, high over the goalie’s shoulder and neatly into the back of the net.

“Holy shit!” Grange said into the stunned silence.

Then the bench erupted into hoots and cheers.

Across the ice, Nico stood poleaxed in front of the net.

Come on, Ryan thought at him.Remember to fucking celly.

Finally Nico whooped and made his way back to the bench to accept his congratulations.

There was a short delay in celebration as San Jose’s hopefully last player took his shot. Greenie stoned him viciously and the bench erupted a second time, with Yorkie and Grange jostling Nico between them until Greenie arrived and demanded his share of the credit. Ryan knocked heads with him when it was his turn, but he waited in the tunnel for Nico to catch up with him so he could bump their shoulders.

Well, his shoulder and Nico’s upper arm. Close enough.

“Hey. Good job.”

Nico grinned, already flying high on the appreciation of his teammates. “Thanks.”

YORKIE WAITEDuntil the plane reached cruising altitude and then stood up at the front of the cabin. “All right, boys! Listen up!”

Nico could hear him over his audiobook. He turned it off and paid attention.

“It has been too fucking long since we did any team celebrating,” Yorkie continued. “And we’re coming home with four out of six points, and we deserve it. So tonight, we are going out!”

This statement was punctuated with cheers from most of the plane, but Nico shrank a little. He’d gotten better at being part of the team when it came to actuallyplaying, but would they want him at their party?

“We are going out, and we are going to celebrate our own budding superstar, Nico the Grouch, and his two apples, two goals, and shootout winner. And we are going to….” Yorkie trailed off, then rallied sheepishly. “Probably be sloppy messes. So you should all get a nap in. I gotta go call my wife.”

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