Page 22 of Until He Scores

I had. There was always a lag between when a defenseman on his team passed the puck to him and when he gathered it up with his stick. In those few seconds, a hole big enough Christopher could skate through, opened affording him the chance to steal the puck. If he timed it just right, we’d be able to score, and get back in the game. “I have an idea, but I need you to call time so we can give instructions.”

Alexander nodded and called time. The ref blew his whistle, and the guys gathered around the bench. “Listen up, Coach Thomas has a plan.”

I stepped forward. A new sensation filled my gut. It was like my first game all over again only in a different capacity. “Number five is slow. Whenever one of our shots is blocked, number thirty-three passes it to five. Christopher, if you time it right, you can steal the puck and pass it to our forwards so they can go for the shot.”

“Their goalie also loses focus,” Pavel said. “He’s so used to everyone else doing his work for him, if you come up on his left to shoot, he won’t react quick enough. I’ve noticed it all night.”

“Good,” I said. “Defense, exploit their weaknesses. Offense, use the ice to break them down and score.”

Alexander put his hand in the middle for our chant and on three we all said, defense. Knots twisted my insides as I chewed on the corner of my thumbnail. I was a control freak. I could admit it. As much as I knew they had the skill to pull this off, they had to figure out the plays on their own. I also had to trustthey’d catch their rhythm when it mattered most. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop me from wanting to be out there to do it myself.

“This is always the hardest part, Coach,” Alexander said. “You have to have faith in your defensemen and their instincts to execute the play and make the goal.”

“Never gets easier, does it?” I asked, unable to look away.

“Nope,” Alexander answered. “Never does.”

Pavel tucked into the net, his gaze tracking the puck while the right defender tried to keep two of our opponents occupied. I saw what the winger was about to do and motioned for Christopher to go for the puck, hoping he was close enough to block the shot or steal the pass outright. Going down on one knee, he redirected the path, sending the puck into the woodwork, away from goal and into Richard’s skate. He smacked it back toward center ice, and Roberts was headed for the goal, shooting the puck while their goalie was distracted.

“That’s the way,” I shouted as the buzzer sounded and a cheer went up around the arena. We’d cut their lead by one. “Do it again!”

When the final buzzer sounded, Christopher and Richard made seven blocks a piece while helping Pavel. The midfield hadn’t done too shabby either, wrecking several passing lanes making sure to limit where the other team could skate and play. The boys pinned their opponent’s ears and in the end, we won by one.

A dirty win was still a win in my book.

As the fans exited the area, I glanced up near where Lily-Mae had been sitting and startled, sure I’d seen a ghost. A man, the same build and height as Pope, stared down at me before storming toward the exit. He came? No, it couldn’t be him. After our little interlude yesterday atFlame, I didn’t think I’d ever see Pope again. Plus, with the lights still dim, I couldn’t see the guy’s face. There was no way.

It had to be my imagination, right?

Had I wanted to see him so bad; I pretend he was staring at me then walking away? Even with the unsettled feelings still pinging around inside me? Had I conjured him because I couldn’t stop thinking about him and each of his actions was just a whim of my subconscious? Seemed like something he’d do, though.

Walk away.

In the thirteen years I’d been part of theThunderbirdsteam, I’d probably caught myself a handful of times, searching for Pope in the crowd, desperate to see him and show him how far I’d come since our days in the junior league.

Not that it mattered anymore.

I never saw him one time.

Pope left me behind.

“Thierry!” Lily-Mae said, waving at me, knocking me out of my darkening thoughts.

The kids trailed behind her along with Rick. The beginnings of her cute pregnancy belly pushed against the sweater I’d given her years ago, and she had that glow about her. She was adorable. Rick was a lucky man. I think I would’ve kicked his ass if he hadn’t married her. A chorus of, “Uncle Thierry” drew my attention as the kids gathered around their mom. My favorite niece and nephews. They each were the perfect combination of Lily-Mae and Rick. Heartbreakers.

All of them.

I went to the glass divide to say hi and talk to her about the game. Mostly reassure her I was fine. A wiggle of excitement and something else scurried through my belly and twisted with regret and nostalgia as my gaze drifted back to where I’d thought I’d seen Pope. If that had been him and he did come to see me, shouldn’t I try to find him? Would he want me to find him after that little display yesterday? Hell, I’d have taken him saying “gofuck yourself, Thierry,” better than kissing me and walking away like he had.

“Did you see who was here?” Lily-Mae teased. “Pope was here the whole time.”

Rick frowned. “Don’t go meddling, Lily-Mae.”

She waved him off. “He sat two rows up from us. Alone.”

Alone? Interesting.No. Stop it. He hate kissed you. We’re not interested.“Well, I hope he enjoyed the game.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Lily-Mae frowned.

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