Page 34 of Slew Foot
“Here, here!” Mickey called out.
Sweat dripped into Rafe’s eyes, burning, as he shot the puck in Mickey’s direction. Mickey took it and skated backward, eyeing a Florida forward. Mickey deked a little behind Florida’s net, toying with the puck before blindly shooting it to Anker Henriksen.
Anker blasted the puck in, and it glanced off the goalie’s left shoulder before tumbling into the net.
Over the sound of the goal horn and the crowd cheering, he heard Mickey’s excited whoop. He collided with Anker and Mickey, wrapping them both up in big hugs.
Happiness sizzled through Rafe but that was almost overwhelmed by the relief at the assist. It had been so long. Sofuckinglong since he’d gotten a point.
He pulled away to beam at Mickey and Anker, hollering his joy in a wordless bellow of happiness.
Mickey slapped him on the back, beaming at him. “Good one!”
“Dude,Igot the fuckin’ goal,” Anker muttered.
Mickey laughed and shoved at their teammate’s shoulder. “I know, but this is Rafe’s first point with us.”
“Yeah.” Anker shot Rafe a sideways grin before holding out his glove to tap. “Nice one.”
He skated off to get his fist bumps from the bench and Rafe turned back to Mickey.
His cheeks were flushed, and he was still smiling.
It made Rafe smile too but before he could say anything, like “thanks for helping me these past few days” or “thanks for helping me find you on the ice”, Mickey pulled away, skating over to set up for the next faceoff.
There was more hockey to play.
And for the first time in a long time, Rafe was genuinely excited to play it.
“Wheel, wheel, wheel,” Mickey shouted a little later in the period. “Behind the net, Moon!”
Since their first practice together, he’d found himself shouting instructions at Rafe sometimes and was surprised when Rafe immediately responded, quickly sliding into place wherever Mickey told him to go.
Rafe did it now, taking the puck behind the net and breaking out on the weak side and firing the puck to Connor.
It worked too, Connor rocketing through the defensive zone and gaining speed as he tore into their offensive zone. Mickey skated into position, checking to be sure Rafe was in position too, mentally urging Connor on as he snapped the puck in on the goalie’s blocker and it went in.
After they celebrated the goal—the team’s second, which only put them one point behind Florida here in the third period—Mickey skated for the bench.
“Hey. You know, I like it when you call out like that,” Rafe admitted a few moments later as he slid in beside Mickey, leaning in and bumping their elbows together.
“Yeah?” Mickey froze, water bottle halfway to his mouth.
“Sometimes I get too up in my head, you know? Second-guess what I’m supposed to do.” Rafe said with a shrug. “So, this makes it easy.”
Mickey frowned. “Huh. Guys usually complain when I do it.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Mickey glanced over and, for a moment, everything faded except for the soft look on Rafe’s face, his big brown eyes and his handsome face.
“Okay,” Mickey said slowly. “If you’resure.”
“I’m sure.” Rafe nodded, eyes wide and earnest.
Mickey swallowed hard, a dizzy rush of anticipation shooting through him. Oh, this was bad.
Good, but very, very bad.
