Page 48 of Breakaway Goals
But Danny had it before he could even do anything, shoving the guy back, leaning over him as he went down to the ice.
The refs broke it up pretty quickly, separating Danny from the other player, but as they skated back to the bench, Danny leaned in and said, muffled through his mouth guard, “That fucking dick. I’m going to kick his ass.”
“No, you’re not,” Hayes said, skating up next to them, swinging his leg over the wall to get to the bench. “You’re gonna cost us a penalty and I don’t want to fucking have to deal with killing their power play.”
Danny grumbled, but he kept it together—something Morgan hadn’t ever thought he’d be grateful for. During any other game, he’d have been pushing Danny’s buttons, trying to get him to explode. Trying to get him a minor, or even a major, because he couldn’t control his goddamn temper.
It was so weird to be trying to do the opposite now. Calm him down, not work him up.
“Hey,” Hayes said, leaning over and nudging Morgan midway through the second. They were up 1-0, and Morgan was tense. It was looking more likely than theoretical that Canada was going to get something too, and then they’d be tied.
“What?”Histemper was fraying now. He could feel it. From the tenseness of the game, being as close as it was, to the forced intensity of the game exhausting everyone, to the way the other team kept pushing and chipping at him. Not just him, but Hayes too.
They knew to beat the US team they had to get to the first line, and they’d been doing it all game. Danny had been a pretty decent defense mechanism, which was another reason Morgan had campaigned for him to be on the line with him and Hayes, but he was only one person and he’d been doing his utmost to fight back without actually getting a penalty for it.
It was inevitable. Danny would push back a fraction harder than he should and then one of the refs was going to call a penalty and then Canada would go on the power play.
“You gotta keep calm,” Hayes said. “We have this. Freaking out about it isn’t gonna make it any better.”
“I know,” Morgan muttered. “But they—”
“Let me handle them,” Danny interrupted from his other side.
Danny probably saw the apprehension that crossed over his face and added. “Not like that, bud.”
“Danny’s fine,” Hayes said. “You’re the only one who looks like he’s five seconds away from fucking imploding out there.”
“Earlier—”
“Dude, it gets heatedonce,” Danny complained.
“Nobody’s blaming you,” Hayes said, legit leaning right over Morgan like he wasn’t even there to pat Danny on the thigh pad.
“Mo was,” Danny shot back.
“For fuck’s sake,” Morgan complained.
“I saw the way you shoved TK. And then you did it to Bennett too,” Danny said.
“Bennett’s an asshole.”
“Hey, I’m not arguing with that.” Danny probably should. Sam Bennett was his freaking teammate normally.
“We’re telling everyone to keep their shit together,” Hayes said. “Dannyandyou.”
“Fine,” Morgan said.
He didn’t lose his temper; he wasn’t that kind of player. He wasn’t Monty, avoiding fights like his life depended on it—which, that was probably fair—but he didn’t usually seek them out.
To win this game, and he wanted to win it, so fucking bad, he could ignore TK’s exaggerated protestations of faux-innocence and Bennett’s shitty elbows.
Except then his next shift started and Bennett slammed him right into the boards before he could barely get his skates under him. The puck was all the way on the other side of the ice, Hayes threading his way between Makar and Toews, but Morgan wasn’t going to be there to get the pass, because Bennett had taken him out at the fucking knees, leaving him reeling.
Then Bennett stood up and smirked, and all Morgan saw was red.
He didn’t think; thinking was overrated. He swung once and then twice and felt himself get swarmed on all sides, blue and red melding into one swirling mass around him.
Someone yelled in his ear and he thought it might be Danny.
