Page 13 of Two Guys One Puck
“What do you expect us to do? Shoot from fucking half?” Grumpy scoffs.
“I’d love for you to try something. How many shots do we even have? Four?” It isn’t enough. Not if we’re going to win this game.
The coaches and other guys toss out some ideas. Not bad suggestions.
“And how can you free yourself up more?” Coach asks me directly.
“I’m working on it.” Top of my list is punch Archangel in the face, but I don’t think he’ll like that answer.
“We need to get more physical with them. When we played them before, you guys dominated them with physicality, that’s how we won. I know we’ve been through a lot this year, but I need every one of you to remember that if we lose this game, our season ends. Do you want our season to end?” Coach leaves us with those words for the last five minutes of the period break.
When we get back on the ice, I go for Seaborn. He can avoid me, but I’m going to be a fucking problem.
“Miss me, love bug?” I say before checking him into the wall.
“You’re not getting to me this game.” He’s so smug, and strangely, I love it.
“Is that a challenge?” I ask using the annoyance from the last period to fuel me.
He shoves away from me. “You can’t get to me.”
“Bet, pretty boy.” I’m left to Archangel and the other fuck, but rage fuels.
My entire team finally gets their shit together, and we play as a unit. They start taking shots, too, but it’s not enough for us to score.
Maybe this makes me a bad person, but I’m going to get to Seaborn, no matter what it takes. I’m a stubborn bastard.And now it’s fucking personal.
The next time I get the puck, I check Archangel into the wall, then accidentally-on-purpose elbow my other defender as I turn.
“Oopsie daisy,” I say with utter glee as I line up on their goalie and sink my shot right to the back of the net.
I’m finally feeling alive.
Our next possession, I out-skate them both, flying down the ice. Wolfe comes out, but he doesn’t intimidate me. I fake right, and as soon as he lifts his glove, I flick it under.
The light above the goal flashes, and with a minute to go in the second, we are finally in the lead. The icing on the cake is when we line back up, Seaborn is on me.
“Well, hello there, cupcake.”
“Fuck off.”
“But I’ve missed you, sunshine.”
FIVE
SEABORN
We are down by one going into the third period, and all the guys are fired up. Coach Hawke gave us a great pep-talk before coming over to me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks subtly, like I don’t know what he wants.
“I’m good.”
“You want to take him for the third?”
I should say no—I’m too mad to handle him well. But he’s figured out the double team thing, and I know he’ll keep scoring if I don’t step up. But it’s a bad idea when I’m like this because he can easily push my buttons.
“Can you handle it?” The subtle undertone of his question shines through.
