Page 33 of Time to Shine

Landon kind of looked like he couldn’t move his eyes, the way he was staring. Most of the guys were standing now, ready to head to the ice and start the game. Landon stayed seated, staring.

Casey couldn’t take it anymore. He crossed the room and stood in front of Landon’s leg pads. “Hey, buddy,” he said cheerfully, “I got good news and bad news.”

Landon blinked, and his gaze shifted away from the wall and focused on Casey. “Huh?”

“Good news—we’re gonna fucking bury San Jose. I’m gonna score three goals. At least three goals.”

“Okay.”

“Bad news—you’re gonna be fucking bored.”

Seeing the slight upward tick of Landon’s lips felt like scoring an overtime goal.

“That so?” Landon asked.

“Yeah, dude. You’ve got the easiest job in the world tonight. They should charge you for a ticket.”

Landon stood, which made him tower over Casey. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something, but instead he only nodded, then grabbed his mask and put it on.

“Let’s go, boys!” Casey called out, and some of the guys cheered in response. “Goals for everyone. Let’s fuck ’em up.”

Landon wasn’t bored at all.

It was seven minutes into the first period, and he’d already let in two goals.

On four shots.

“Fucking get it together, Stackhouse,” he muttered to himself when the play was at the other end of the ice.

It wasn’t different from any other game he’d played. Yes, the crowd was bigger and louder, and yes, the game was being broadcasted nationally, but it was still just a hockey game. It was still just stopping pucks.

The roar of the crowd startled Landon before he realized his team had scored. “Thank fuck,” he said.

It was Casey who had scored, god love him.

“We got this,” Casey said after he skated down the ice to high-five Landon in celebration.

Landon nodded. He’d given up two easy ones, and he could blame jitters for that, but he’d be solid now. He deserved to be here. He’d prove it.

He stopped the next shot, and the next one, and then completely flubbed an easy save and had to watch helplessly as the puck rolled past the goal line behind him.

The crowd was silent. Or at least it felt that way. Landon tried to shake it off. Tried to believe he could still be of use to his team, even as he wished the ice would swallow him. At least his parents never watched his games live. He could tell them to skip this one.

During a commercial break a couple of minutes later, Landon skated miserably to the bench.

“How you doing, Stackhouse?” Coach Patrick asked.

Landon could be honest and tell him his head wasn’t right tonight. Goaltending was a mental game as much as physical, and anyone who understood hockey understood that. He simply wasn’t able to focus the way he needed to.

He glanced at Antton, who was watching their conversation with interest from his seat at the end of the bench. If Landon gave his coach an honest answer, Antton would have to go in.

No. Fuck it. There were still over two periods left to play. Landon wasn’t going to give up. Antton needed this night off. He was counting on Landon to hold it together for one fucking game.

“I’m good,” Landon said. “Just jitters, but I’m settled now.”

Coach studied him for a long moment. “Good,” he finally said. “Get back out there, then.”

Landon raced back to the net, trying to make his strides look powerful and confident. Distantly, he heard the crowd cheering for him, which was nice of them. He’d like to give them something real to cheer for.

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