Page 60 of Delayed Penalty

I laugh harder, and he crosschecks my chest. Now I’m definitelynotlaughing. I crosscheck him back, and I see the ref’s arm go up.

Good. Give us both penalties. I don’t care.

He blows the whistle, jabbing his finger in my direction.

“18, Seattle!” the ref yells, and I wait for him to make a call on the Vegas player too, but he never does.

“What the fuck!” I scream. “You’ve gotta be shitting me! He got me first!”

“Don’t care, didn’t see it. Box!” the ref responds, pointing to the penalty box I am all too familiar with.

“We were right in front of you! How did you not see it? What a fucking joke!” I holler back as I’m escorted to the open door, not giving a crap if the mic picks it up or not.

It’s a bullshit call, and judging by my teammates shouting from the bench, I’m not alone in my feelings. I slam my stick down, fuming. Why is it I’m always the one getting the shit end of the deal? I didn’t do anything that asshole didn’t do first.

They call for a TV timeout, and I let my eyes wander to the stands, past the opposing fans taunting me beside me, to where Flora and Quinn are, only to find Flora standing, her little thumb pointed down as she boos the ref.

I laugh. Quinn catches my eye and shrugs, and I shake my head with a grin.

Play resumes, and I’m forced to watch as my teammates battle off a power play. They’re doing well, blocking shots left and right and keeping them from getting into position. Coach Smith throws Lawson out there with Locke and Hutch at the end of the kill, and I know exactly what he’s looking for.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter as I stand, watching the last seconds tick by.

“Go, go, go,” the penalty box attendant says when my time is up.

I race out of the box, the puck landing right on my stick, and I pump my legs, driving the net hard. I see my opening the second the Vegas goalie goes down just a few seconds too early. I drag the stick back and shoot.

The puck goes off the pipe and in.

“Fuck yes!” Lawson says, running me into the boards as he hugs me. “That’s what we need, baby!”

“Way to redeem yourself,” Hutch says, smacking my helmet.

But I don’t care about their praise. My eyes go right to the stands, where I find Flora jumping up and down on her chair, clapping wildly as she grins bigger than I’ve seen her grin before. Quinn stands beside her, fingers in her mouth as she whistles, her hazel eyes shining with pride. Seeing them happy is infinitely better than anything these assholes on the ice are saying.

I push them off me. “Got work to do still.”

I skate by the bench, bumping fists, then get settled back into position. We battle hard for the next several minutes, getting a few good looks but no lucky bounces. We’re so fucking close, and I can feel it. We just need one thing to go our way, and we have a chance at winning this.

The fourth line hits the ice to give the top guys a break before the final two minutes, during which we’ll undoubtedly pull Fox if it comes to that. Keller fights for his position in the front of the net, being the pest we all know he loves to be, and Jobe takes the shot.

The next thing I know, the place is louder than I’ve ever heard before, and the puck is sitting in the back of the net. Keller tipped it, and we’re fucking tied.

“Fuck yes!” Lawson grabs my shoulders, shaking me hard as he bounces on his skates.

The whole bench is cheering and yelling, and we’re feeling it now. Even Fox is celebrating on the other end of the ice.

“Told you I’d score before you,” Keller says to Lawson as he skates by, and Lawsy doesn’t even have a response for him. He’s too damn jazzed about the goal to care about the chirp.

“Hey, hey, settle down,” Coach Smith yells behind us. “We still have time left. Let’s get reset and go again. Top, let’s go.”

I jump the boards with Lawson, Locke, and Hutch behind me, and we take our positions, all business now. I win the draw, sending the puck back, and Locke takes it, dragging it back to get set. He passes it to Hutch, who passes it back to him. I get into position, smacking my stick against the ice, letting him know I have an opening. Smartly, he goes to Lawson, who has an even better one.

Lawson zooms up the ice with the puck and into the zone, and we all chase after him. He rims it around the boards to me, and I shoot it back to him. He tries on the goalie’s weak side, but the goalie gets over too fast. It doesn’t matter. He leaves Lawsy a juicy rebound, and he capitalizes on it.

The goal horn goes off with just seconds to spare, and we win our first game of the season.

“Yeah, fucking suck it, Kells!” Lawson yells as we crowd around him.

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