Page 17 of Slap Shot

“Never.” I tap my helmet against his. My chest hurts, but some of the pain dissipates when I hear the roar of the crowd. When I see the full arena and my teammates waiting for me. “And I love you for it.”

“Love you too, Huddy Boy.” Maverick grins and throws an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

My muscles are screamingat me.

No amount of training in the offseason can prepare you for being back on the ice where everything moves fast as hell and the stakes are high. I’m getting outskated by a rookie, and I groan when I jump over the boards and off the ice so the second line can take over.

“Holy shit,” Maverick pants. He squirts water on his neck and shakes his head. “I’m getting my ass handed to me.”

“You and me both.” I chug down two gulps of a sports drink. “What was with the penalty you got earlier? I saw you chirping that dude.”

“He liked one of Emmy’s photos on Instagram last week, and it pissed me off. The hit was worth the two-minute timeout I got in the sin bin.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“You might be the most deranged man I’ve ever met.”

“Nah. Just an idiot in love.” He stands and watches the next line take the ice. His joking grin disappears, and he slips into captain mode. “A couple of these guys are playing well tonight.”

“Hughes is good at left wing. His passes are sloppy, but I’m betting it’s a mix of excitement and nerves. We could use the help on the third line after Delato signed with Vancouver over the summer. I’d like to see more of him.”

“So would I. Hope he makes the cut. Bailey is doing well in goal. Fifteen stops through two periods isn’t shabby for a twenty-two-year-old playing in his first NHL game.”

“Liam worked with him during training camp. Nothing says ‘welcome to the big leagues’ like the best goalie in the sport giving you feedback. Where did he go to school?” I ask.

“West Bridge University up in New Hampshire. Won the Hockey East Player of the Year when he was a sophomore and helped his team win the Frozen Four. He played for the World Juniors too.”

“Impressive resume. They’ve got a solid program up at WBU. I like that kid Donohue who plays for them right now. He reminds me of you. Might be the next big thing.”

Maverick hums but doesn’t agree with me. He might be cocky, but he’s humble when it comes to accepting praise about his athletic ability.

“Let’s go, Johnson,” he yells at the defenseman trying to earn a spot on the team. He looks at me as he takes a pull from his water bottle. “I’ve missed this.”

“What? Games?”

“Yeah, games. But shooting the shit with you. Talking about players’ strengths and weaknesses. The thrill of it all.” He laughs and stands, hitting the boards with his stick when our left wing on the fourth line barely misses a wrist shot. “Maybe I’m not ready to go yet.”

“You’ll know when it’s time. And until then, I hope you’ll stick around and keep giving me shit,” I say.

“Christ.” Grant groans, rolling over the boards. He clutches his side and drops his head between his legs when he collapses on the end of the bench. “I’m dying.”

“Hot dog not sitting well?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“There’s a brick in my stomach. I puked during intermission. Think I might fake an injury so I don’t have to go back out there. I can spend time in the athletic trainers’ room with Lexi. That sounds way more fun than regurgitated meat,” he says.

“Don’t compare Lexi to regurgitated meat,” Riley chimes in. “This is your own fault.”

“Shut up, Mitchy.”

“Grant—you can puke again during the next intermission, but you’re getting back on the ice. Riley—focus on the game, not what someone is saying about your girl,” I tell them.

“She’s not my girl,” Riley grits out.

“You look at her like she’s your girl,” Mav teases.

“Coach is going to add on laps at practice on Tuesday if y’all don’t knock it off.” I lean against the boards and watch Connor McKenzie, one of our centers, take an elbow to the throat. I clap when the referee points for the Brooklyn Hawks player to head to the penalty box, giving us a much-needed power play. “Show these guys the respect they show us. Not all of them are on multimillion-dollar contracts. They’re fighting for their lives out there.”

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