Page 47 of Icebreaker
His words landed with the weight of a gavel hitting a judicial bench. I exhaled, letting go of a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"In case you don't yet understand," Coach continued, "this is the bottom line." He looked at me with a slight, half smile before continuing to scan the faces of the rest of the team. "Good or bad, we stick together. If anyone challenges one of us, they're challenging all of us. Unity is what we need, not division. We won't allow our opponents to divide and conquer."
"To Axel and Quinn—I want you to know this." Coach's voice softened slightly. "You have my unwavering support, and as long as I'm here, I'll demand it from the team as a whole. We won't waver or falter. We'll face your opponents at your side."
I exhaled, long and low, as his comments washed over me. It was the support I'd craved long ago and never found. Now, my team offered it to me without reservation.
When Coach Fraser finished, the Lumberjacks erupted in thunderous applause. Quinn reached out to me and squeezed my hand. It was a small gesture, but it carried a world of meaning.
"We're really going to make it through this," he whispered.
Out on the ice, the tense team meeting resulted in striking unity. We moved together as one; our passes were crisp and on target, and our skating was fast and efficient. We tapped into something larger than ourselves. It was a shared purpose, transcending the simple mechanics of the game.
When Quinn scored during our scrimmage, the team engulfed him in a celebratory pileup. I hung back, watching as my heart swelled with pride and love.
With practice over, I unstrapped my helmet and rolled my neck back, letting the cool arena air invigorate me. To my surprise, while I stood alone near the boards, Sergei approached. He looked slightly diminished from his usual imposing figure.
Sergei's shoulders hunched, and he held his helmet close to his heart. As he neared me, he skated a slightly uneven, hesitant path on the ice.
His voice was rough and raw, like many of us after an intense practice session. "Can we talk, Axel? For just a minute." I saw warmth in his eyes. I couldn't remember ever seeing that.
I nodded and leaned back against the boards. I was curious about what he had to say. Most of my teammates were already off the ice, and the Zamboni had already begun its post-practice rounds. We'd have about ten minutes before needing to move out of its way.
"I've been thinking a lot, and those speeches in the locker room…wow." With the helmet in his left hand, Sergei reached his right arm across his chest to grab his left bicep. It was like he was ensuring his body held together while he said his piece.
"I want to say something about everything that's been going down and how it's all unfolded so far." He paused, furrowing his brow as if searching for the right words.
"Look, I know I haven't been supportive…like I should have been. There, I said it." He dragged his right skate forward and back on the ice. "It's more than that. I know I've been part of the problem. I let myself get caught up in the rumors, and…and I'm sorry, Axel. Truly…damn, yeah."
He lowered his head as we both processed his apology. He wasn't finished. "Your courage, both of you…" He gestured vaguely toward the locker room, where he knew Quinn was waiting. "It's opened my eyes and made me see how ugly my assumptions are. I want to get better. I want to be that teammate you can count on, both on and off the ice."
He tilted his head to the right as I looked into his eyes, and then he shifted his weight to his opposite foot. He'd made a brave statement, but it left him feeling uncomfortable. I extended my hand to shake.
As he took my hand, I said, "Thank you. Those are powerful, courageous words. It's easy to go with the crowd and tough as hell to change and admit we've been wrong. Damn, I do appreciate this."
He gripped my hand even tighter. At that moment, we laid the cornerstone for a new trust-based relationship.
Sergei nodded and let go of my hand. As he straightened his shoulders, some of his trademark confidence returned. "We're here to play hockey, but we're also here to stand up for each other. I get that now, and I'll do better."
The game that followed felt like a turning point in the season. It was early November, and it had taken a while, but not unusually long, to strengthen our bonds.
The arena crowd buzzed as we hit the ice. The controversy swirling around Quinn and me did nothing to reduce theenthusiasm of our most committed fans—a gentle wave of popcorn-scented air cut through the rink's chill when we appeared for introductions.
The lights dimmed, and the announcers introduced each of our starting players with a spotlight trained on them. I puffed out my chest in pride when Quinn received the loudest ovation.
As the referee dropped the puck, the game came alive, releasing a unique blend of shouts, stick taps, and body checks. Quinn and I found our rhythm, efficiently synchronizing our movements.
"Left wing, Quinn," I shouted over the noise, my voice rough and raw. He nodded and whipped the puck back to me so I could send it forward again with my stick.
"Nice pass!" I called back, grinning at the well-executed play. He gave me a quick stick tap before he darted toward the opponents' goal, ready for a rebound. It was a shot missed by inches, and when it bounced off the goalie's glove, he quickly set up a new play.
Our teammates were just as focused, their shouts echoing on the ice. "Watch the break!" Sergei yelled, pointing with his stick. As he predicted, our opponents' forward barreled down the ice, his skates kicking up frosty ice crystals behind him.
I intercepted his pass and caught the puck against my stick with a satisfying thunk. Next, I pushed off and took the puck back into our opponents' zone, sending it ahead toward the goal. We were an endless, relentless, coordinated storm, taking over the rink like a force of nature.
"Behind you, Axel!" Max ordered, and I flicked the puck back without looking, judging by the sound precisely where he would be. Our seamless play drew cheers from the crowd, and the rolling, roaring wave boosted our energy level.
Finally, Quinn lined up for a perfect shot. I sent the puck forward, seeing the play in my head. "Now, Quinn!" I shouted,and with a quick wrist flick, he blasted the shot at the goalie. It sliced through the air and quickly slammed into the back of the net. He threw his arms up in celebration when he heard the sharp thunk.
