Page 146 of Time to Shine

“Ollie Beck separated his shoulder. Beck was my fucking hero—I couldn’t believe I was even on the same team as him. I’d been called up to replace the backup goalie, Lewis, because he’d needed surgery. I was twenty-three years old, totally starstruck, and suddenly I was moved up to the top spot in Buffalo. And Buffalo was a contender back then, remember?”

Landon nodded.

“I got my shot. It meant two great goalies getting hurt for me to get that shot, but I got my shot. And, Stackhouse...” He tapped two fingers hard against the tabletop. “I. Took. That. Shot.”

Landon’s heart was in his throat. “You were one of the best.”

“Fuck yes I was. And now I’m not. I’m just a backup goalie. I’m not—” he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin “—Gilbert Morin anymore. I’m not the future of this team. You are.”

“Antton is,” Landon corrected him. “He’ll be back next season.”

“He will,” Gilbert agreed. “His arm will be healed, but still bother him. He’ll be another year older. You know he’s only four years younger than me, right?”

Of course Landon knew that. But Antton seemed ageless. Invincible. Eternal.

The fact that he wasn’t able to be here now proved otherwise.

“I’m not Antton Niskanen,” Landon said. “Or Gilbert Morin.”

“Of course not. You’re Landon Stackhouse, one of the most talented young goalies I’ve seen in a long time. And I’ve seen a lot of young goalies. Believe that.”

“Thank you,” Landon said quietly, unsure how he was supposed to deal with this much praise.

“Take your shot, Stackhouse. Make everyone stand up and notice you tonight in Anaheim. Show them the last game wasn’t a fluke. And don’t feel bad for me because I’m going to be the loudest one cheering your name, okay?” He paused. “Well, not louder than Hicks. No one is louder than Hicks.”

That made Landon smile. “He’s a great cheerleader. And, seriously, thanks.”

“You can thank me by taking us to the finals. I wouldn’t mind another Cup win before I retire.”

“Hell of a finish to a great career,” Landon agreed.

Gilbert smiled, then stood up. “Fucking right. Now eat your pasta. You’ve got a game to win.”

Gilbert walked away, and Landon immediately took a bite of pasta. He did have a game to win. He had lots of games to win, and a legacy to launch.

They walked into Casey’s house the following afternoon, both in great moods after their win in Anaheim. The game hadn’t been as much as a challenge as the one against L.A., but the win put them more firmly in first place in their division and had made Landon feel more firmly like an NHL goaltender.

And now they were home. It felt both surreal and familiar, being back in the space where Landon had fallen in love with Casey.

“You still have your Christmas decorations up,” Landon observed.

“Yeah. I like them. They make the house less creepy, y’know?”

“I think in March they start to feel a little creepy, maybe.”

Casey removed his coat and boots and put them neatly in the closet, then held out a hand for Landon’s coat. Landon raised his eyebrows. “What?” Casey said. “I’m trying, okay? The house was so much nicer when you lived here and I wanted to keep it that way because then I could pretend you were still here.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Maybe that’s why I left the lights up too.”

Landon smiled and handed Casey his coat. “That’s really sweet. And weird.”

“No shit, dude. You make me sweet and weird. That’s on you.”

Landon noticed that the couch was free of the usual debris, and there were no shoes under the coffee table. “I really missed this place. Even the mess.”

“You didn’t miss the mess.”

“I did,” he said honestly. “There was nothing about my apartment that reminded me of you. Except...”

Casey wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Except?”

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