Page 53 of Unrivaled

Grimacing, Grady reached for his beer. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one whose Gatorade they want to piss in.”

“Okay, that was weirdly specific. Something we need to go to management with?”

It wouldn’t make anything better. “No.” They hadn’t done anything. He just had residual paranoia from his teenage years. He never should’ve told Jess what he overheard his teammate say. Furious, she’d told the coach, and the other player had gotten traded. Unfortunately the other guy was well-liked, so Grady got branded a traitor and a tattletale. It wasn’t the greatest year of his life. “It’s nothing new, anyway. I’m used to it.”

“You’re pissed at them when they let in more goals than you score, they’re pissed at you when you don’t score more goals than they let in. But we won, so relax.” Zipper was a pacifist when he was drunk.

Coop took the opportunity to change the subject. “Speaking of scoring. How’s that internet dating thing going?”

Zipper hooted. “Seriously, bro?”

With a poisonous look at Coop, Grady admitted, “It’s a moral support thing for Jess, okay?” That was at least sort of true, or true enough that Zipper wouldn’t care about the difference. “The ladies from her team are doing a Christmas ski trip this year and Amanda is going. I want her to get some closure. But she won’t go if she thinks I’m spending the holiday alone.”

Amanda had been Jess’s goalie.

“I always thought they’d end up together,” Zipper commented. “Teenage fantasy destroyed.”

“Dude.” Grady shuddered. “Gross.”

Zipper made a face. “Yeah, my bad. Sorry. Anyway.” He propped his chin on his hand, and for a second, he reminded Grady of Max. “Internet dating. You were about to tell us how it’s going.”

“It’s brutal,” Grady said, which led to a breakdown of the dates and much laughter on Zipper’s part.

By the end of the story, he felt lighter, distracted from team drama—until Coop swigged back the last of his bottle of beer and shook his head. “I was so sure you were finally getting laid.”

A small, very annoying part of Grady—the tattletale left over from childhood—sulked when Grady didn’t cop that he was. “Your comment on my attitude is noted. Also, fuck you.”

When Zipper had finished laughing, he leaned back in the booth, loose-limbed and smiley. “We’re gonna miss you around here, bro.”

Nights like tonight, Grady could admit he’d miss them too.

Their game in Ottawa the following night was another story.

This time Barny was starting, and he was shaky. Fletch and Taylor didn’t help; Taylor’d clearly drunk too much the night before, and he hung Barny out to dry a couple times. Only luck saved the Firebirds from going up in smoke—the Tartans hit the crossbar three times, and two shots missed by chance.

In contrast, Grady’d gotten to bed at a decent time, after just enough beer to put the situation with Max out of his mind. He felt rested. He and Coop and Zipper clicked.

They were tied at 2 going into the third period. Grady had both goals, so despite the fact that they were getting outshot two to one and their defense was as effective as wet tissue paper, spirits were high.

Coach clapped his hands as they prepared to go back to the ice. “All right, boys, let’s tighten up in our own end and help Aces here finish it off, eh?”

Half the team might not like Grady very much right now, but a potential hat trick fired them up all the same. They hit the ice for the third period with energy and confidence.

That lasted for a minute and a half. Then the Birds got caught flat-footed on a line change. On the bench, Grady barely contained a grimace as the game suddenly went from five-on-five to five-on-two.

And the two were Fletch and Taylor, who were tired from their shift and supposed to be coming off.

“Fuck’s sake,” Grady groaned as the puck hit the back of the net, a snipe from the top of the circle. A cheer went up in the arena.

Coop gave him a bracing smile. “Looks like you’re on tap for the equalizer.”

But twenty-seven seconds later, before Grady even got on the ice, the Tartans scored again, a dirty goal from inside the paint.

The Firebirds’ energy and positivity evaporated. Barny visibly tried to shake off the second goal, but he was rattled, too reactive.

It was a bloodbath.

The Tartans must’ve smelled fear, because they put another six shots on goal in the next two minutes. One of them went in, leaving the Birds trailing 5–2. At the play stoppage, Grady glanced over to the bench and saw Coach conferring with their backup goalie and their goaltending coach, but they didn’t pull Barny out.

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