Page 219 of Wrong Pucking Player

“That’s true,” Mitchel admits. “Fuck. We can’t lose the first game.”

“We won’t,” I assure them.

If it was my way, I’d strip out of this goalie shit and take Winchester’s place.

His performance in this game was amateur in comparison to all the talk he’s been speaking and the various gigs he’s been taking to emphasize what a rising star he is.

“Oh, shit. Cyrus Jr.?” Mitchel’s comment has me looking back to see Andrews facing Wyatt.

What’s got some of the crowd already cheering in excitement is that Wyatt is fully geared up and being given a stick by Coach Johnson. They’re speaking about something that requires Andrews to use a few hand gestures, but she does a swift head-to-toe glance at the man before her and smiles.

Sign of approval.

“Get back in position,” I encourage. “Let’s give these rough douches a run for their money.”

“Yes, Boss!” Mitchel teases, making me roll my eyes.

“Haven’t seen Cyrus Jr. on the ice for years,” Axel declares. “I’m excited.”

“Same,” Diesel admits. “Let’s do this.”

Wyatt is soon on the ice, the sight getting plenty of fans excited while flashes from cameras ignite like waves of paparazzi. I guess it’s a big deal when Strattonville used to watch Cyrus Jr. on the ice when we were younger.

So many never understood why he stopped, but I’ll give them props for respecting his decision to stay off the ice. His performance tonight will determine whether it’s time for him to make a comeback or not.

Maybe Andrews found something that could aid with the dizziness.

The game starts back up again, and fuck, I’m feeling the exhilarating nerves as the clock gets closer and closer to timing out.

The opposite team is fierce in their defense, but Cyrus Jr. with Mitchel seems to be the golden duo we need. They blaze down the ice every chance they get, taking chances in scoring that final goal that would give us our first victory.

The last thirty seconds has me holding my breath as Wyatt not only has the puck but is speeding so quickly down the rink, the announcers are losing their shits. His speed had to have distracted the goalie because his body flinches when Wyatt closes in, as though he doesn’t even realize he was so close.

That’s the biggest mistake because Wyatt doesn’t wait for the goalie to attempt to get into the rightful position to stop his soaring puck. It glides right through the opening between the goalie’s legs before his knees drop to the ice in an attempt to block the shot.

The buzzer goes off at that second—the game officially over as we get the final goal.

“YES!” Multiple Pincers scream and cheer, all of them going to crash into Wyatt who ends up falling from the impact of his fellow teammates. They don’t seem to care as they tower over the poor equipment manager, but eventually, Mitchel and Axel help him up.

I sigh in relief, reeling in the deafening cheers that come from all directions. It sounds like sitting in a movie theater with surround sound, the hollering cheers celebrating our victory making my heart feel far too full.

I don’t bother trying to move, knowing damn well my body will say ‘fuck you’ if I don’t get some liquids in me. Doesn’t stop the guys from coming my way though, Wyatt in the lead as he glides to a stop before giving me a bear hug.

“Fuck, man. You surprisingly still standing,” he breathes heavily as he manages to pat the back of my helmet.

“Barely,” I speak over the loud crowd as we lean back to exchange looks of relief. “Fuck. If you weren’t here, we’d be fucked.”

“Mitchel had it,” Wyatt suggests as Mitchel skids to a stop next to Wyatt.

“Nah, man. That was all you. Fuck. You’re faster than Winchester. What the hell?”

“I’m alright. Rusty as hell,” Wyatt plays it down, but the others won’t allow him to get away with that.

“Stop lying, Cyrus Jr,” Silas emphasizes.“Rusty my ass.”

“That was fucking wild,” Diesel comments. “The ice even missed you, bro.”

“That performance was crisp, Wyatt,” I chip in because he needs to grasp how his performance really saved our asses. “Think you need to go on early retirement from the equipment manager gig.”

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