Page 55 of Gravity
Slava glares. “I'm playing hockey,” I gloat. “Alors, show me your goal, eh?Allez, allez.”
He bitches and grumbles, then grumbles some more when Valery stops his next three attempts. Eventually, Slava takes his puck and skates down the line, shoving himself between Janne and Etienne. I laugh at his back and shout, “Casse-toi!” as I blow him a kiss. He gives me the finger.
MacKenzie takes Slava's place beside me. “Why are you bothering poor Slava? He's such a nice boy.”
Slava's next shot whistles through the air and bangs into the boards behind the net so hard it sounds like a gunshot.
MacKenzie winces. “Maybe he's not nice tonight, but he is on our side, so.Tout va bien, bébé.” He winks, laughs, and skates away.
I love this team. I love all of my brothers.
And I love one man most of all.
Loving Hunter is turning me into the best version of myself I can be. It's like I'm finding depths and openings and room to grow inside my soul, parts of me expanding and unfurling as I discover I am more than I thought I was. Happiness fills me until I think I'm going to burst, and when I believe I cannot be happier than I am this moment, or the next, or even the next, Hunter glances at me, or smiles at me—
And there I go again, falling into ajoie de vivreI didn't know was possible.
J'ai trouvé le grand amour.
As warmup ends, Hunter and I skate to the blue line to form up with the rest of the guys for the national anthem. As we wait, he leans in to my ear and says, “I know what I'm doing after the game.”
“Oh?”
The announcer's voice nearly drowns out his reply. His lips move against my ear, my skin, my hair. “Je vais te faire l'amour.” I'll be making love to you.
I nearly slide out from my skates, almost fall into his arms with a flutter of my eyes and a racing heart. We're sixteen seconds away from the start of “O Canada,” and this is not the time to be swooning. And yet… “Promise?”
He grins. “Oui.”
Calisse. My heart goes into overdrive. The announcer could be saying aliens have landed in the parking lot and we're all about to be introduced to our new leaders. I hear nothing of the anthem. See nothing, either, except for the burn in Hunter's eyes. Feel nothing but the heat of his body so close to mine. We're lost in each other, staring into each other's eyes like there is nothing and no one outside of the two of us.Je t'aime, je t'aime, mon coeur. Je suis amoureux.
The anthem ends, and the crowd roars, and the spell, for the moment, is broken. I come back to the present. We are in Montréal. We are home, and Hunter is beside me, and I am in love with him with everything that I am.
I smile as I tip my head back and stare into the arena's lights.
ChapterEighteen
Hunter
When the playoffs begin, the energy our team had during the regular season is ramped up to the max. We are amplified, each of us taking to the ice like we've shot electricity straight into our veins. Individually and collectively, we are riding the absolute edges of our talents. Pushing, pursuing, hunting for more.
We win the first divisional round easily, skating to a sweep against Buffalo in four games. Now we're starting the second round, and it is a Canadian series: Montréal versus Ottawa. Whoever wins here will go to the Eastern Conference finals, and from there, the winners of the Eastern and Western Conferences will face each other in the Stanley Cup finals.
It's going to be us. I know it. I can feel it. We can all feel it.
Bryce and I have a date set, too. That final game on the ice together.I want to be at your side when I hoist the Cup.
To get to the Cup, we have to play—and win—the games in front of us first. We beat Ottawa during the regular season twice, and now they are hungry to prove themselves.
Ottawa came out hard tonight, trying to pin us with an aggressive forecheck game while we intensified our speed. In the first period, we tore down the ice and ripped passes back to the point, set up our teammates for one-timers and slap shots. Etienne and Slava scored in the first and second period, respectively, assisted by Bryce and me. Ottawa fought back, though, and successfully screened Valery for a goal in the second.
Now the game is two to one, and Ottawa is desperate for a goal. So are we. We want to sweep this series again and prove to the league—and the world—that we are champions ascendent.
The first line is out. Bryce and me, MacKenzie, Slava, and Etienne. The five of us play almost as perfectly in sync as Bryce and I always do. At center ice, I steal the puck from a sloppy Ottawa player and scream up the wing toward the corner. A cut, a spin, and I whip the puck without looking back to the point, where I know Slava will be waiting.
Bryce and MacKenzie go to the net. Slava checks the defense, watching the Ottawa players as they try to decide who between Bryce and MacKenzie is the bigger threat. Both Ottawa defenders drape Bryce, and a forward pinches in to cover MacKenzie.
But Etienne, rushing from our end, takes Slava's pass, surprising and upending Ottawa's play. I rotate to Slava's position, Slava drops back to cover the blue line, and Bryce, Etienne, and MacKenzie cycle in front of the crease.
