Page 98 of Broken Ice, Mended Hearts

After a kiss that would leave me reeling for an hour, he left. As he drove away, I marveled again at my luck. Pip was making my dreams come true.

Chapter 27

Gags

June

Fucking overtime!The Barracudas had made it to the Stanley Cup Finals for the first time in three years, and the Detroit Huskies had worked our asses off for seven games. Being stuck in the second full overtime period of game seven felt familiar, because we’d been in a similar situation with the Phoenix team a few years earlier. At least we were in Bethesda this time with the Huskies.

The ref blew his whistle and stopped play, so I raised my head to look at Friedlander’s luxury box, high above us. When an arm waved in the air, I recognized the bright red shirt I’d asked Sven to wear so I could see him from a distance. He was up there with Drew and Jack. Since the Cudas were wedged together on the bench, I pulled my arm from where it was trapped next to Rodriguez and waved back. On a lark, I yelled into the deafening roar of twenty thousand fans: “I love you, Sven Holmer!”

Rodriguez gave me a look, battling to keep a grin off his face. “Give it a rest, man. He can’t hear you.”

“No, but I can.”

Play resumed, and our boys were lost in a swarm of Huskies. Detroit had an unusual strategy that involved surrounding their opponents, as if that could stop them from going anywhere. While it may have been successful with inferior teams, the Huskies’ “nesting” technique didn’t work on us, something they should have already figured out.

Our second line was out there, and Eckie emerged from the fray, racing toward center ice. Blanton—Eckie’s right wing—appeared next, followed by Kev Moore, who chased them both toward the Huskies’ zone. As they crossed the center line, one of Detroit’s D-men flew up the left side of the rink, headed straight for Eckie. Kev didn’t react, and my blood pressure rose even though I knew it was one of his fake-outs.

Just as the Husky got within striking range and poured on more speed, Kev abruptly swerved left and delivered a massive body check. Detroit’s man, though knocked off course, stayed on his feet and started after Eckie again. He was too far behind to be a threat now, so I shifted my eyes back to Eckie, who was making a run straight at goal. The netminder skated out to reduce Eckie’s angle, but in a well-practiced move, Eckie flicked the puck to Blanton, who shot off the pass. There was a sudden hush as the puck flew toward the net, but in a move worthy of a skilled gymnast, the goalie twisted around and caught it in his glove.

Cheers from Husky loyalists competed with the disappointed shouts of our fans. Georgy Kalashnik, Detroit’s netminder, wasn’t considered one of the league’s two best goalies for nothing, but our man, Hynek Dvorak—Jackie—was the other top goalkeeper. It was largely because of the goalies’ incredible performances, game after game, that we were in this sorry fix—second full overtime with God only knew how many more to go.

“First line up,” Shuford yelled. That was also the cue for Cleevs and me, so we all hopped over the boards, shouting encouragement to the men coming off the ice.

I glanced at the video board; shit, eight more minutes in this fucking period, and my legs already felt like lead. Shifting my gaze toward Friedlander’s box, I raised my stick, and Sven’s red-sleeved arm appeared, waving in the air. I had to get through this because my man was watching.

It was madness from the puck drop. Stick won the face-off, and when Jensie got the puck, we all raced toward the Huskies’ goal. Stick fell in behind Jensie, who batted the puck backward between his skates and kept going as Stick captured the pass and altered his course to the right. As he approached the goal, Kalashnik got into position to stop one of Stick’s infamously hard shots, but Stick unexpectedly passed to Cleevs. As soon as the Huskies recognized Cleevs’s threat and began to regroup, Cleevs passed to Sako, who immediately launched a shot on goal. In a heart-stopping moment, Kalashnik again worked his magic and blocked the shot. The puck remained in play, and the Huskies’ center took possession. We all reversed course and flew down the ice toward our defensive zone.

Jackie, a master of mind games, looked like he didn’t know we were coming and didn’t have a fuck to give if we were. He turned slightly to his right, and as we got closer, he crouched. Detroit’s center passed to his left wing, who made a shot. The puck bounced off Jackie’s blocker, and the Huskies’ right wing got hold of it and launched another shot. Jackie, who’d been staring into space—or so it looked—shot out his glove hand like a striking snake and caught the puck. He held on to it, forcing another face-off.

Detroit won the face-off this time, but Stick immediately stole the puck from one of their wingers. Off we went again toward the Huskies’ zone. One of the Huskies blocked Stick assoon as we crossed the blue line, so Stick passed to Jensie, who sent Sako the puck, beginning a game of keep-away. No one got off a shot, and the way the Huskies were circling, it was only a matter of time until one of them got his stick on the puck. Cleevs and I stayed back to be ready.

Play shifted off to the goalie’s left. I was to his right, barely on his side of the blue line. Jensie took the puck, but when he headed for the goal, a Husky defenseman zipped toward him. I could see Jensie was in trouble, so I pushed off and headed his way. He saw me coming and sent me the puck.

Holy shit.I had possession, and at that second, I was the only man with a clear path to the goal. One of Detroit’s defensemen rushed toward me, but I banked left, causing him to lose his footing and go down. Staying to that side, I dangled as their other D-man sped my way. Thinking I was about to shoot, he shifted to block me, but I dangled again. Already off balance, he teetered and went down.

Now I angled right, coming up on Kalashnik fast. He shifted to the corner of the goal so he could stop the puck if I made a shot, but now the rest of our boys were in front of him. Kalashnik’s eyes shifted back and forth, probably expecting me to pass to one of our forwards. Again, I dangled, and Kalashnik’s body jerked every time, thinking it might be the one.

When I was about three feet in front of the goal line, I saw my chance. Kalashnik was still poised to stop me, but Nick called for the puck—still another well practiced fake-out—and Kalashnik’s eyes moved. It was now or never, so I fired. While a sharp thwack rang through the air, the puck flew through Kalashnik’s five-hole, deep into the net. The goal horn sounded, and I skated in jagged circles, throwing my stick to the side and yelling my head off. The boys caught me in a big hug, and the rest of the team arrived a few seconds later. We wound up in a big pile on the ice, shouting happy curses and screaming cheers.

Nick, at the bottom of the pile near me, yelled, “You just won us the damn Cup, Gags!”

“Fuckin’ A!” It was Eckie’s voice, but I couldn’t see him.

We eventually untangled ourselves and got to our feet, and the next minutes were a cacophony of yells, chirps, hugs, and backslaps while the officials got set up for the presentation. After Kev released me from a bone-crushing hug, I looked up and raised both arms in the air. Sven waved back, and though I couldn’t quite make out his face, I knew he was grinning—the smile with the maddening lower lip pout that never failed to make me want to kiss him.

As soon as we get home, Sven Holmer, you won’t know what hit you. You may not be able to walk tomorrow.

Chapter 28

Sven

“Fucker!”

“Get off me!”

“Not what you said this morning.”

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