Page 70 of Fake-Off with Fate
“You know it,” he says with a determined grin.
Asher Tremblay joins us. As far as defensemen go, he’s one of the top dogs in the league. “Is it strange that I’m a little nervous?” he wants to know.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “Nerves show you still care.”
His nostrils flare as he says, “This is why you’re the captain. You’re like our very own cheerleader.”
I’m glad he sees it that way, because right now, I’m still torn between staying here and flying off to LA to offer Ashlyn my support.
Once we’re all geared up, I lead the team out onto the boards. Dale is waiting for us, and “Ice, Ice, Baby” is booming through the loudspeakers, doing its job to ramp up the already electrified atmosphere.
“You guys ready to let the world know who the Ice Breakers are?” our coach asks. He smiles with borderline glee. Dale is not known to show great emotion during a game, so it’s clear how excited he is.
Looking at me, he passes the metaphorical baton. “You have anything you want to say to the team, Jamie?”
“Yeah, I have something to say.” I take a beat to catch everyone’s eye. “Most of us don’t know each other very well yet, but our shared love of this game has made it clear we’re a force to be reckoned with. Let’s get out there and show the doubters we’re on a mission to take the cup.” Putting my hand into the center of the group, I wait for the others to follow suit. “Ice Breakers on three,” I tell them before counting down.
Once we’ve declared our battle cry, the starting lineup hits the ice. As I glide to the center for the puck drop, I feel the anticipation building in the stands like I’m the one singing the National Anthem at the Super Bowl.
When the puck falls, I feint back like I’m going to let the other team get it, but then at the last second I shoot my stick out and grab it. I immediately turn and send it flying down the ice to Asher Tremblay, or Mr. Sunshine as I teasingly call him. Seriously, the guy always has a smile on his face.
Asher takes possession with the ease of someone born with a hockey stick in his hands. He moves effortlessly, the puck dancing on the blade of his stick like it’s magnetized. The crowd roars with every stride he takes toward the opposing team’s goal.
True to their reputation, the Great Lake Vikings aren’t making it easy on him. Two defensemen surge toward him, their sticks slashing at the ice as they close in. Yet, Asher doesn’t panic. He rapidly changes course, pulling the puck with him. The defensemen lunge to block his path, but he cuts sharply to the right and leaves them in his dust.
Meanwhile, the goalie is waiting and watching, crouched low and ready to pounce. Asher keeps his gaze steady, and his focus unyielding, as he nears the net. A player from the opposing team barrels toward him from the side, intent on bodychecking him into the next county, but Asher anticipates the move. He spins out of reach, as fast as a ninja dropping from the sky.
Miraculously, he keeps the puck secure the entire time. The noise from the stands is deafening and seemingly shakes the very ice beneath our skates. Asher slows just enough to draw the goalie away from his post. Then, in one smooth motion, he slaps the puck with a sharp, calculated arc. It rockets past the goalie’s outstretched glove and slams into the back of the net with a resounding clang. The arena explodes with excitement as the bench erupts into our new war cry. “Ice Breakers! Ice Breakers! Ice Breakers!”
Asher pumps his fist into the air as he glides back toward the team. “That’s how we do it people!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the pandemonium. The rest of the first period is just as thrilling, and the Ice Breakers prove they are a new powerhouse in the NHL.
I rotate out in the middle of the second period to let another player come in. In my early years, I resented any time I wasn’t in the fray, but now that I’m in my mid-thirties, I’ve earned the right to an occasional break.
As soon as my butt hits the wood, I look up at the Jumbotron and my jaw nearly hits the floor. The camera is focused right on Allegra’s face.What is she doing here?
I look over at Harry, whose eyes are also trained on the screen. He glances my way and asks, “You two back together?”
“We are not,” I tell him sternly.
“Why’s she here, then?”
A slow heat starts to flow through me as my heartbeat picks up speed. “I have no idea.”
“She must be here for you,” he says. “And no hate, but you’d be an idiot not to get back with her.”
I stare at Harry for a long moment, trying to assess his intent. Is he trying to get me to go back to her so I’ll look like an idiot in front of the whole world? I can’t tell. So I say, “Allegra and I are through. She made her feelings clear, and I’m not going back for another round of ‘make Jamie look like a fool.’”
Harry nods his head slowly. “I get it, man. I really do.” That’s when I realize he doesn’t appear to have a hidden agenda. He’s on the up and up. But then he adds, “If you’re not interested, do you mind if I throw my hat in the ring?” I can’t help but wonder if he thinks by dating Allegra he’ll somehow even the score between us. But either way, it’s no skin off my nose.
“Do what you want,” I tell him. “Just remember Allegra can be dangerous when she has possession of your heart.”
“Warning heard loud and clear,” Harry says. Changing the subject, he adds, “We’re killing it out there, Hayes.”
A slow smile forms as I concur. “We sure are, Franks. We sure are.”
The rest of the game whizzes by like time has no meaning, and we take it 3-0. Once we return to the locker room, bottles of champagne get shaken and popped as we all dance around celebrating our first win as a team.
As much as I want to party with the guys, there’s one person’s voice I can’t wait another minute to hear. Grabbing myphone out of my locker, I make my way to Dale’s abandoned office. Then I sit down and call Ashlyn.
