Page 129 of Any Second Now
During last night’s game, things were as they usually are, with the exception of Barrett on the second line in place of Armas. I thought we were good to keep status quo.
I sneak a sideways glance at Harley. He’s watching coach with a stony face and arms crossed on his broad chest. He’s usually a bit more relaxed than this, but Harley takes everything very seriously. He never cracks a grin during pregame speeches or steals a look at his phone. He’s dead focused on his career.
And his relationship.
All that seems to be falling apart. Dude must be freaking out inside.
Coach warned us he’d be trying out new lineups and strategies during these games. I guess I didn’t really believe he’d swap Harley down.
“Second line offense: Finn is center, Rhys right wing, and Harley left wing.”
I shake my head subtly as Coach goes through the rest of his speech. I can’t focus on the Harley issue right now. Maybe I’ll try to talk to him about it over the weekend while we’re out in the city post-game, but he probably won’t want to.
Like last night, the crowd goes absolutely wild when Barrett is introduced onto the ice. I guess I’m not surprised. He’s top talentand quite the fan favorite, I guess because of his good looks, arrogance, and famously promiscuous behavior.
The game starts and it’s absolute bliss being on the ice playing a game again. Summer offseason is needed and appreciated, but this is where I want to be. On the ice fighting for the puck and kicking other players’ asses.
The crowd is mixed—some here to support their team, but some are just hockey fans taking advantage of a bunch of different NHL teams being in the city at the same time. It’s a fun, high-energy environment.
We look good in the first period, and the other team is not prepared for us.
I speed past one of their defenders and give him the slightest little nudge into the boards. He hits them with a completely over-exaggerated slam, and the crowd gets excited, their reaction to a potential fight over-the-top.
I don’tnotknow how to feed a hockey crowd.
Lachlan might be the one most likely to start something on the ice, but I’m right behind him. I tend to get in slightly less trouble than the Aussie, enough that the attention is usually on him, so I mostly slip under the ref’s radar.
Two of their defenders come at me from either side, probably as revenge, and when they slam into me, my stick goes flying into the air.
Fuuuck.
I skate forward with momentum, my eyes up as my stick spins and I just know it’ll hit the ground right behind me. But then Barrett fucking Steele swoops in like a knight in shining armor and gracefully catches it by the edge of the blade.
The crowd loses its collective mind as I slow so he can skate past me, handing me the stick with a smirk on his face. I cannot help grinning back as I nod to him.
That was a slick fucking move.
Kellen gets the puck to me a second later and I strike, easilyscoring past their goaltender, who must’ve been lazing around all summer to be that slow. And he doesn’t even have Augustus’s tan.
I chuckle and skate away from the net.
Coach swaps us for the second line and I tap Harley’s stick as we pass each other. He nods at me and skates out, looking strong and motivated on the ice.
The first period ends, and we have a fifteen-minute break in the locker room. Score is 1-0 and the feeling in the room is light and positive. I’m not the only one loving being back on the ice.
“Alright, listen up,” Coach barks. “You’re doing well out there, but keep it together. This is the time to figure out what’s working, and for fuck’s sake, fix what’s not. We want to take both games and let everyone know we’re the best team in the league.”
There are grunts and shouts in the room.
Ten minutes into the second period, the Vegas Golden Nights are skating angry. They’re hammering away at Grayson and Elias, our second line defense. Augustus makes a huge glove save on a short-handed breakaway.
But then Lach—bless his short-fused soul—gets pissed when someone checks Augustus. He tackles their center forward, football player style. Completely illegal. The crowd goes absolutely wild and I do a swan dive to join in. Barrett Steele is right behind me.
It’s a beautiful thing.
Fuck anyone who dares lay a hand on our goaltender. Augustus is a goddamn team treasure.
I love hockey.
