Page 39 of Check the Halls
For the first time all week, I’m glad I am, too.
CHAPTER 13
BEN
"Stop grinning for the cameras and score, Jackass,” Foster chirps as he skates past me on his way back to the crease. I respond by giving him a megawatt smile before I skate to the offensive zone to take my position at the blue line. I can’t help it. I’m having the time of my life out here. Coach just finished drawing out the play for us during the time out. The game is tied late in the third and we’re looking to avoid overtime.
The ref leans in for the faceoff, and I’m ready, my body tight with anticipation. Austin wins it clean, snapping it back to me. The clock’s under ten seconds now—plenty of time to make something happen.
I drag the puck along the blue line, scanning for an opening. Their winger rushes at me, stick outstretched, but I fake a pass, skating around him. My heart pounds as I see a lane, just enough space to wind up. I don’t think about it. I don’t hesitate. I just shoot.
The puck slices through the air, a blur past bodies and sticks. It ricochets off the crossbar and into the net. Thegoal light ignites just before the end of period buzzer sounds.
The arena explodes. My teammates mob me, helmets and gloves pounding my back as I grin like an idiot. I look up at the scoreboard—two seconds left on the clock when it crossed the line.
“Let’s fuuuccckkking gooooo!” Will hollers beside me.
My first goal of the year and it’s on home ice.
Fuck, I love my job.
“Christ, Michaels,”Noah Watts claps me on the back on his way to the showers. “What have you been doing for cardio in the off season?”
Noah is not only my oldest teammate but the only one with three Stanley Cup wins. When he speaks, you listen and when he sets you up, you don’t waste it.
“Crawford’s mom, mostly.” As expected, everyone laughs except for Austin, who rolls his eyes before tugging his jersey over his head and tossing it into the bin in the corner.
“At least my mom’s helping your game,” he says as he strips his shoulder pads off. “After my last night with your mom, I couldn’t walk straight for a week.”
I snort, good-naturedly. “As long as you treat her right and can still shoot straight after, that’s all that matters to me, buddy. Another beauty of a goal tonight. You’re killing it.”
He stands in front of me, stripped to the waist, his chest still heaving from exertion, frustration rolling offhim in waves. His brows are drawn tight, jaw set like he’s been stewing over this for a while.
"Seriously, man, what’s your deal?" Austin demands.
I blink. "What do you mean?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
Wait—what?
Before I can respond, Foster, ever the voice of reason (or sarcasm), chimes in. "He did just imply he’s been having sex with your mother."
Austin scowls. "Yeah, but then he laughed it off when I gave it back to him. Why are you acting like we’re friends?"
"Wearefriends, Austin."
Austin lets out an exasperated scoff. "Last year, you guys constantly gave me shit. Acted like I was annoying.Allof you." He turns to Foster and Will for confirmation.
"You were the rookie last year," Will says matter-of-factly.
Austin folds his arms. "So?"
"So, you had to pay your dues. Establish your place on the team," I explain, clapping him on the back. "And you have."
His expression shifts as the realization sinks in, like someone just turned the lights on in his brain. "So it was just an initiation? You guys didn’t actually find me annoying?"
I hold his gaze, letting the moment stretch before deadpanning, "No, we definitely did."
