Page 83 of Breakaway

“And we’ll be there cheering you from the stands, Baby Shaw.”

“I know.”

I grinned, this moment feeling more meaningful than I expected. I could relax, knowing that the truth would soon be apparent. And while it had started as a way to prove a point to Dakota that he couldn’t fuck with people, it had become a way for me to show anyone who’d ever doubted me or put me down that I was a badass hockey player. Full stop.

“Alright, we should get ready for practice. The J18 scout will be here today for the game.”

I clapped my hands together, adrenaline racing through my body. The guys chuckled but moved back, and we finished dressing for practice. Dax kissed me before leaving to meet with some of his PT clients.

Skating out onto the ice, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Reed and Fletcher ran me through some drills, but we kept it light with the game soon. The kids gave me odd looks when they joined us later, but I was too happy to care.

“Alright, huddle up!”

* * *

“Protect your goalie!” I shouted.

I could hear Scar in the stands echoing my sentiments. My fingers tightened on the rail as I watched the game. The score was 0-0 with only five minutes left in the third period. This game had been brutal.

The Razors weren’t stellar, but several of our players had started puking after the first period and weren’t permitted back on the ice. I shuddered as I recalled the horror the locker room had become. Vomit wasn’t a new thing with players, as many would often toss their cookies after a hard run on the ice, but this hadn’t been that. Based on how they held their stomachs and fought over the bathroom stalls, I suspected food poisoning. Even though it should be impossible with all their meals coming from our dietary staff.

It was just another weird occurrence to add to my mental list of oddities that had been taking place around the team lately—early morning fire alarms, entire boxes of blades missing, and all the player’s keycards being deactivated. There were too many at this point to think it was a coincidence or bad luck. Someone, or more likely someones, were targeting the team and sabotaging them. Intentional food poisoning was serious, though, and I would discover who was behind it.

We were down six players, making the shift rotations longer. The players barely recovered before they had to return to the ice, the previous shift flopping into the box like they had no intention of leaving again.

Dax handed out electrolytes, encouraging the kids to drink up. While he had them, I focused back on the play. Reese snagged the puck out between a player and took off toward our end of the ice in a breakaway. Braden and Cam blocked anyone who neared, giving Reese plenty of ice to move on. The crowd in the stands stood on their feet, chanting for Reese as they approached the goal.

The goalie skated forward, leaving their post and slashed out their stick at Reese as they neared, stopping their shot and causing them to stumble. The puck went to the left as Reese fell forward onto the ice. I hung over the railing as I shouted at the ref.

“Penalty! That was slashing, Ref!”

The crowd seemed to be shouting similar things as the majority of the people in the stands stood on their feet and pointed. The ref raised his hand to note the penalty but didn’t stop the play with the puck still loose. I ground my teeth, wanting to rush to Reese but knowing I couldn’t. I missed Cam swooping in, fighting off another player as they fought over the puck. Braden helped Reese up, my heart slowing as I watched them stand on their own.

Cam slapped the puck to Jack, and he made a shot attempt as the clock counted down. The black disc flew high, but the goalie reached out and grabbed it, dropping it onto the ice as the buzzer for the end of the game sounded, the Razors cheering. I looked to the ref, who was conversing with the other ref before he skated over and addressed the crowd.

“Slashing against player 12 by the goaltender. You have a penalty shot.”

The Razors booed as the crowd quieted, and the players left the ice and returned to their benches. I slapped Cam on the back and looked at Braden, wanting to know how Reese was. He gave me a nod, and I took that to mean they were okay.

Once the ice was clear and only Reese and the goalkeeper were left, Reese skated to the center. I noticed how one of their hands shook, and I gripped the railing again, praying they were okay. Everyone watched as they took hold of their stick, nodding to the ref they were ready.

The puck dropped in front of them, and they took off, skating toward the goal as their skates sliced through the ice. The swish of their stick and the puck accompanying them as they moved. The goaltender shifted their feet, moving their hands as they tried to distract Reese.

Both teams collectively held their breath as Reese faked out a strike, spinning as they struck the puck to the other corner. The goalie fell for the first hit, moving their glove in that direction first. By the time they’d recovered, they were too late, and the puck soared into the net as the cherry on top of the goal lit up, announcing it.

“Yes!” everyone cheered, screams ringing out around the arena.

Reese fell to their knees as the team converged on them. Helmets, sticks, and gloves littered the ice as the team pulled Reese up and carried them around. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to take a breath. This game had been hard won, and I knew it wouldn’t get easier as I joined the team on the ice to shake hands.

My eyes scanned the team for Reese as we returned to the locker room. I needed to hear they were okay before I could calm down. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long as they were waiting for me outside our door.

“Reese!” I shouted, pulling them into a hug.

“Ow,” they whined, freezing me to the spot. I drew back, looking them over as panic engulfed me. Tears fell on Reese's cheeks, my heart galloping a mile a minute.

“Henley,” they cried, lifting their hand. “I think it’s broken.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

---