Page 21 of Playing for Keeps

The camera crew notices, too, because I catch sight of her up on the jumbo screen, dancing and waving and having the time of her life. A small nugget of worry digs into my gut that this will wind up in a tabloid somewhere and make things even more difficult for her with her parents. Still, all of that is overshadowed by the caveman-esque delight I take in having her sitting with my family, cheering for me. Sure, she’s excited to see my brothers, too, I guess. But it’s me she’s locked eyes with as I stretch.

When the puck drops to start the game, I tap into the same focus as always. The world disappears apart from the puck, the hips and skates of the opposing team, and the sounds of blades and sticks on ice.

I’m blocking shots like a solid wall, not noticing the time passing, barely feeling the sweat I know is soaking my hair and running down my legs inside my heavy pads. I’m acting without thinking, but now that’s expected of me.

When the lights begin to flash and the foghorn blares, the crowd starts screaming “STAG, STAG,” and I know one of my brothers scored. Fuck yeah.

Eyes back on the puck, I send every ounce of my energy into deflecting shots. Our defense is outstanding, making my job easy today. I almost can’t believe it when the game ends and I haven’t let a single biscuit by.

“Hot damn, Gunny!” Alder pounds me on the back as Tucker approaches on the other side to pull my helmet off and kiss me on the cheek. Camera flashes explode in the stands as we celebrate together. This is what it was all for, I realize. My family is here watching me celebrate the game we all love. The fans are happy with a win that our city will celebrate.

The three of us make our way to the boards, and Coach is, while not exactly smiling, decidedly not angry. He grunts and nods, a massive seal of approval from him, I’m learning. Theteam manager tugs at her collar and shouts over the din. “Media! G Stag, Cappy, Dallas. Go!” My brothers make eyes at me and give me a few more shoves as I hobble back to the locker room in my skates.

I’m a little surprised to see a blonde woman in hockey gear leaning against the wall. “Are you from the women’s team?” I take my place beside her, waiting for the reporters to kick into high gear.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. I’m dying for a shower.”

My face contorts in horror. “They made you wait this whole time?”

She shrugs. “I might have taken my gear off and put it back on after the third period of your game…”

“Shit. Sorry. That’s really rude.” I extend a hand toward her. “Gunnar.”

She smiles, returning my shake. “Ashley.”

And then we’re swarmed. The Fury PR lady, I think her name is Kehlani, whispers that we’re doing a joint interview with the women’s team goalie since we both had shutouts, and that’s part of the deal in cross-promoting with their league.

“Okay, but did they really have to make her wait two hours to shower?”

Before Kehlani can answer me, the reporters are in our faces with cameras, asking the typical boring questions about how it feels to get a win. I’m all ready to talk about my shutout, proud of how I worked toward that this week, when the reporter pulls a U-turn and asks Ashley about her husband. “He’s a starter for Boston, isn’t that correct?”

Ashley’s brow furrows, and she nods.

“And you play for Pittsburgh. How is that working for you two? The distance?”

Clearly uncomfortable talking about her relationship, Ashley says, “It’s definitely my goal to be signed with a team in the samecity as my husband, but for now, we work it out. We’re both very dedicated to our teams. It’s a fantastic opportunity to?—”

“Are you able to support your husband at any of his games?” The reporter interrupted her to ask about her husband when Ashley is here to talk about her own game. This blows.

I reach for the mic, seeing red. “Hey, I notice none of you have asked me about my spouse yet. But that’s okay because I’m happy to tell you how awesome she is. She’s a musician.”

There’s silence as the reporters seem to absorb my nonsequetor. Ashley’s chest shakes a bit with silent laughter, so I turn to her. “Do you listen to music before games? I personally don’t because it’s too hard to deal with those little earbuds once I start gearing up.”

Ashley nods, pursing her lips. “I do, actually. I have a playlist. Helps me focus. But I do okay with the earbuds.”

“You must have been pretty focused today. You had a shutout.” I grin and hold up my hand for a high five.

She returns the gesture. “Yeah, you, too, Gunnar.”

The reporters don’t seem to know what to make of the goalies taking over the interview, and they all sort of drift away. Eventually, Kehlani claps her hands and dismisses us.

“Hey,” Ashley says before she waddles out of the locker room on her skates. “Thanks for that.”

“Yeah. Any time. You’ll have to send me your playlist.”

She beams. “I’ll do that.” She gives me a salute and slips out the doors just in time for half the guys on the team to strip naked.

CHAPTER 15

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