Page 31 of In The Game

Micky’s arm shoots up. “Don’t forget your—” I’m already gone.Sorry, girl. It’s not you.

I sneak past him in the dark vestibule, and as soon as my feet hit the bright sidewalk, I run. So much for making new friends and colleagues, he’s taken that away too. There’s nothing I want more than to leave hockey in my past. Something I used to love now only reminds me of him. That’s not my lifestyle anymore. It ended that night. I should rue the day I met him. Fuck, I wish I could. But he gave me Arthur, and I’ll never regret my son.

I thought I was past all this? Seeing him in the flesh has made my once buried bitterness unearth itself. The hurt feels as fresh as the day he sent those DMs.

“Let him go,” I tell myself. “He’s not worth it.”

THIRTEEN

Fucking overtime. Not just any overtime, we’re on our third helping. We’ve been on and off the ice for over five hours. I’m ready to drop. This is the first time I’ve sincerely questioned if I’m too old for this shit. We barely had OT all season, but now, when it’s the second round of playoffs and twenty-minute periods, we’re on the third one. Ain’t that how it goes?

Sully pants next to me as he comes off the ice. We’re the oldest on the team. I’ll be forty before I know it. Where did the time go?

Coach must know something I don’t because he’s still throwing me out there.Push through the pain.I’m exhausted and irritated. At this point, I don’t even want to win to close out the round, I want to win so we can go the fuck home. We’re up three to zero overall in the playoffs. If we can take this game, we’ll need the break for recovery.

We’re all dragging ass. Sully included, but he’s still got that sparkle in his eye for the game. I never thought I’d see him retire before me, but here we are. This has been my life, what would I even do if I retired? I’m not ready to be a has-been. I’d be bored out of my mind. That said, I don’t know how much more my body can take. Granted, a lot is due to my current condition in OT3. O’Callahan was injured at the end of first period, so Bishop and I have been the main right wingers for most of the night. The shifts are much longer than usual. Despite my shitty attitude, I can’t shake the feeling something great will happen tonight.

Dallas is playing better than usual, matching us point for point all night long. We have home advantage, so this should be over. And my gut tells me it almost is.

“Conway.” Coach sends me out again.

Holding my fist up to Sully, he bumps it and hangs his head as I jump on the ice. The sweat dripping from my face is cooled as I skate out, creating a breeze. My eyes are shot, the puck seems faster than usual, but fortunately, we all are sharing the same deficit, so it evens out. A breakaway lets us crowd their goal. I keep a keen eye on my surroundings. My guys, theirs, the puck that seems to disappear and then pop up somewhere new.

Burke passes to Broderick, our center, but it’s intercepted by Dallas.Goddamn it.Lonan pounds the ice and intercepts Dallas’s pass by tipping the puck and keeping it in their end.And grandpa is relieved he doesn’t have to skate to the other side of the rink.

I clear my head and regain focus. For the second time, we swarm the net. Broderick goes for it, their tender dives on his stomach to grab it but misses.

He. Fucking. Misses.

The now standing crowd in my peripheral explodes with noise. Holy shit. Might as well be an open net. Time stands still. Where is it? In the shuffle, my eye catches the black between one of their defenseman’s legs, and I zero in on the puck before he does, so muscle memory takes over and I steal and flip it in the net. My mind goes blank for a second wondering if that really happened or if I dreamed it.

When the horn sounds, I get my celly while rounding the back corner.

Holy hell, we did it!

Get fucked, Dallas.

Confetti falls from above, and we line up to do the playoff handshakes. We’ve got at least a week off until the next round begins, minus practices. Still, a week with zero traveling sounds divine. The adrenaline rush carries me off the ice and back into the locker room where I all but collapse on the bench. Ripping my jersey off, I lean back in my hockey breezers and close my eyes. I still feel like I need to catch my breath. Jones busts out the champagne, and after the loud pop, I crack open one eye to see white spray raining down from above. I laugh, the young pups are ready to tear it up tonight. It’s gonna be a long one.

The last thing I want to do is move my legs, but if I don’t flush out this lactic acid build up, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I jump on the bikes at a low resistance. I’m on my last legs. Literally.

After the warm-down, I strip, impatient and ready to wash the game off. I fucking smell.

“Sully, Conway, Kucera!”

“Coach?” Sully answers.

“After showers, we need you upstairs.”

“WAGs box?” Kucera asks.

Coach is chatting with Carlos, the org’s event coordinator.

“You fuckin’ wish.” I slap Rhys on the chest with the back of my hand. He’s so in love it’s disgusting. How is this the same rookie from a year ago that refused to date or take home women?

He bites his lip. “Bet I get a nice surprise tonight…”

“Rook, we just closed out the round. We’re all getting nice surprises tonight,” I remind him with a smirk. Coach turns back to face us.

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