Page 36 of Dice & Dekes

One fake.

One shot.

Bar down.

It’s so clean, so fast, I don’t even feel it leave the blade. Just hear the horn, see the red light, and get mobbed by my line like I just proposed to someone mid-game.

Knight slams into me from behind. “Tell my sister she can come to dinner anytime.”

“Yeah,” Lenyx laughs, “this goal’s on her. That jersey’s cursed or blessed, depending on your perspective.”

“Yay, Abbott and Daddy,” Cam yells from the bench.

I grin and point up to the box. I know she sees me. Hell, I hope she does.

The rest of the game is a grind. Milwaukee fights back hard, peppering our goalie with shots and getting chippy along the boards. Tristan draws a penalty in the second, and we capitalize—Knight buries a rebound and damn near takes the glass out celebrating. By the third, it’s a war of attrition. The energy’s high, the hits are harder, and I block a shot with my thigh that’s going to leave a bruise the size of my ego. But we hold the line. The chemistry’s clicking.

We win 2–1.

Afterward, the locker room is chaos—half chirping, half bragging, a little too much deodorant in the air. I’m still buzzing with adrenaline and Knova’s laugh echoing in my head when I sit to untie my skates.

Knight’s sitting beside me now, calmer than before.

He nudges me. “I don’t get it, man.”

“What?”

“You two were toxic for years. She hated your guts.”

I shrug. “She still does. Just slightly less.”

“She wore the jersey without complaint.”

I glance down, smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah. She did.”

Knight studies me for a long moment. Then, finally: “Don’t screw it up.”

I nod. “Trying not to.”

Trying not to want her too much. Trying not to need something I know I can’t keep.

But as long as that piece of paper exists? She’s mine.

And I’m going to let myself believe that’s enough. Just for now.

* * *

“We’re going for the Cup this year,” Knight says, raising a glass of limoncello at the Puck Drop. We’ve ordered carafes for the table. Coop makes all the limoncello in-house, and it’s both delicious and dangerous.

“Hell, yes!” Lenyx pumps both arms over his head. “That Cup isours!”

“We are having a solid season,” Camden admits. He’s pretty reserved, unlike Lenyx, whodefinitelytakes after his dad. When Lenyx shouts about how well we’re doing, the rest of us know to take it with a grain of salt. Camden’s quiet calculations wouldn’t hype up an arena, but his words carry more weight. “The problem is, we haven’t gone up against the other teams who are having good years of their own. We can’t let ourselves get complacent…”

I reach over to slap his shoulder. “Now you sound like Coach. We get plenty of lectures on the ice already. Let’s celebrate the win tonight and worry about our strategy at the next practice. After two back-to-back games, I’m about done for.”

Cam nods, like he’s calculating odds in his head. “We’ve got a good shot. But let’s not forget—we haven’t faced the other big dogs yet.”

“Which is exactly why we should party while we still feel invincible,” I say, clinking his glass with mine. “Coach’ll crush our souls tomorrow at the film review meeting either way.”

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