Page 50 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

“That’s him,” Robbie said, smacking me on the back. “That’shim.”

I skated over to the glass and pounded it out, pumping my fist at the crowd as they all chanted: “Plow ‘em down! Plow ‘em down!”

My heart did a little somersault drop when I spotted a pair of pretty blue eyes. There he was, a few rows back, wearing a green flannel. Mason was standing and clapping, doing his best to act supportive even though I knew damn well he was seeing that puck as a Hostess cupcake.

I nodded at him, winked, and gave him a little bump on the glass before I skated off.

We played like fucking beasts for the next two periods. We were still up by one at the start of the third, and if anything I felt like I hadmorestamina by the end. I only started to falter when Newberg let a pass get intercepted a few minutes into the third, and Nashville was able to get a clean shot and score.

And then they scoredagain. Just a few minutes later.

I leaned my head back, staring up at the lights above and hearing a different part of the crowd go wild.

No, no, no.

They only needed a few more minutes on the clock to win. Nashville’s team was known for some insane comebacks, and they even went into shootouts at their last game, so tying it up wasn’t a guarantee either. Coach wasn’t happy, and he was barking about our defensive play, telling us to shape the fuck up.

“They’re not getting another point,” I told Robbie halfway through the third. “No mercy.”

My heart was racing. Things got bad for a minute, and Nashville had possession for an uncomfortably long time.

“Goddamnit,” I muttered.

I’d been doing well with ignoring Elliot all night. Now, I couldn’t afford to pretend he was just another body out on the ice. We were going to have to seriously make something happen to stop Nashville from soaring into an easy win.

“You got time,” I yelled to Elliot as I whipped past him, seeing that none of their players were on his ass. His eyes darted around, and he juked right before going left. A few seconds later one of Nashville’s guys spotted us and cut over to block Elliot, getting the puck up against the boards.

“Fuck is wrong with you, Sanocki?” Elliot bellowed as he lost control.

“Hewasn’t there,” I said. “You had time, but you blew it.”

“Youfucking blew it,” Elliot said. “Where have you been lately? Need your head checked? Need to go home to Mommy?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I told Elliot, trying to ignore him and keep focused on the damn game.

Soon after, I heard the ref’s whistle for something else. Someone on Nashville had gotten cocky with Newberg and pushed him to the ground, and a penalty was being called. The ref put him in the box, and as we waited, Elliot skated over to me like he was hunting me down.

“Not the Plow I know,” he yelled at me.

“What is with you guys?” Robbie said, coming up beside us. “Used to fuckin’ skip home after games because you guys played well together.”

“Don’t care,” I tossed back.

He doesn’t know, I reminded myself like a mantra. Robbie didn’t know about our history, and he really wasn’t meaning anything bad by his comment.

“Because Sanocki used to listen to me,” Elliot said.

“And I never will again.”

As I went back into position Elliot skated past just to toss another line my way. “Have fun in your room alone tonight,” he spat at me, “after you make uslose.”

I was pissed now.

I was tired of Elliot’s bullshit, tired of playing with him. He had no idea who I was.

And I was tired of holding myself back from things I really wanted to do. Elliot was mypast, and nothing more. He didn’t get to take up any fucking space in my mind anymore.

For the rest of the game I went back to thinking of him as nothing but a hockey player—a means to an end, a way to get tomygoal of winning every fucking game I played.

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