Page 59 of Delayed Penalty

“Holds barred,” Keller provides with an exasperated eye roll. “Asswipe.”

I look around the room, catching the eye of a few of the guys, almost all of them smirking because they know this is just what Lawson and Keller do—give each other endless shit.

“Aw, come on,” Lawson says with a grin. “Don’t be a Grumpy Gus just because you know you’re riding the pine tonight, Kells.”

“Fourth line, yet I’m still out there making better plays than you are.”

“Not a chance.”

“Bet I’ll score before you do this season.”

Lawson smirks. “I score more than you every night. Unless you count your two girlfriends gettinghandsywith you, that is.” He lifts his palms into the air for show, as if we don’t all understand what he’s getting at.

Keller rises from his cubby, already marching toward him. “I swear to fuck, Lawsy, I?—”

“All right, all right, settle down,” Coach Smith says, calming us like the children we are certainly acting like.

Keller retreats to his stall with a scowl, and Lawson plops down in his, still smiling because I guess he has a death wish or something.

Coach Smith stands at the top of the room, his hands on his hips as he quietly commands the attention of the room, and we give it to him. This time last year, we were sitting in this room with a different coach who was lackluster at best, and we had no confidence in this team, not really. This year is completely different. We’re determined to take it all the way. We want that Cup, and we want it bad.

“First game of the season, boys,” he says. “It might not seem like a big deal because we’re staring down eighty-one more games after this, but the truth is, this game can set the tone for the rest of the season. I’m not saying we have to get out there and win. We all know that’d be amazing. I’m talking about the way you play tonight, win or lose. I’m talking about the plays you make or don’t make. The way you back your teammates up. The grit you have. Your determination. How much you give the game.That’swhat I’m talking about. So are you ready?” He looks each of us in the eye. “Are you ready to get out there and play a game you can be proud of when you walk back off that ice? Can you do this? Because I sure as fuck believe you can.”

It’s a simple speech but effective because damn ifmy heart doesn’t start to hammer in my chest with the anticipation of getting out there and proving to him that he’s made the right decision to believe in us. I believe in us too.

“Let’s get out there, then. Let’s show that sellout crowd what we’re made of. Yeah?”

“Heard!” the room says before clapping twice.

“Good. Hutchy, read it!”

Hutch stands and reads off the starting lineup.

“You ready?” Fox asks beside me once he’s done.

“As I’m ever going to be,” I tell him.

“You gonna stay out of the box this year?”

I laugh. “Going to give it hell.”

“Good, because we’re getting the Cup this year. I can feel it. Something about tonight feels different. I just know it.”

He’s right. Something about tonight does feel different.

And I think a lot of it has to do with a certain two girls in the stands tonight.

“Hustle, hustle!” Keller yells from the bench. “Move, Hayes! Wheels!”

Not wanting to let my teammate down, I pump mylegs harder and catch up with the Vegas player, bodychecking him into the boards. We’re down two goals halfway through the third. We have a lot of hockey left to play still, but right now, it doesn’t feel like it. Our ship is sinking fast, and we need a lifeline soon, or we’re going home with zero points.

“Attaboy!” Keller shouts as I knock the puck away from our opponents.

“Motherfucker,” the Vegas player mutters.

I laugh.

“Think that’s fucking funny?” he snarls.

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