Page 110 of A Little Crush
The score taunts me from the board as the time ticks down on the clock. It’s the third period, and the score is three to three with forty-four seconds to go. I pace behind the bench, eyes locked on the ice as the boards rattle beneath my feet.
Come on, come on, come on.
Skates cut through the ice, the low hum of fans holding their collective breath throughout the arena as one of the opposing team passes the puck. Reeves intercepts it.
"Get ready!" I bark, stepping to the edge of the bench.
Reeves darts past, juggling the puck left, right, left, right, as the opposing team zeroes in on his movements.
"We’re pulling Evans!" I yell.
My goalie catches the signal and darts toward the bench as fast as he can, despite his heavy pads making him drag more than if he was any other player on the ice. Grabbing Skanchy by the collar, I force him to look at me. “You're out there. Run Delta Loop. Got it?”
He nods, eyes blazing. “Get it to Thorne?”
“Every damn time.”
I shove him forward, and he hops the boards. It’s six on five. An empty net taunts me from our side, shining like a beacon. If this doesn’t work, we’re fucked. Every inch of me clenches tight, and I try to keep a clear head.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mutter.
Reeves chips the puck off the boards as Skanchy sweeps in, catching the pass and arching around one of the closest defenders. Griffin floats toward the high slot, just like we drew it up. Twenty-eight seconds.
“Let’s go!” I yell. “Pick it up! Delta Loop! Let’s go!”
Darting into action, they run the play like we practiced. Skanchy to Reeves. Reeves to Skanchy. He passes it between a pair of defenders, and Skanchy swoops in with a quick fake, distracting the opposing team, leaving my baby brother wide open.
The seconds relentlessly tick down on the clock.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Griffin winds up. The loud crack of his stick hitting the puck sounds like thunder as it connects. I clutch the back of my head, and the rest of my team jumps to their feet, each of us holding our breath.
In the blink of an eye, the siren wails, and the crowd goes wild.
We won.
We fucking won!
Heart pounding, I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and try to catch my breath. It’s not like I was out there, but the adrenaline is still enough to knock me on my ass. That was close. A little too close. But we did it.
We fucking did it.
“Good game, Coach,” Evans says.
“Good game,” I return, shifting my focus to the scoreboard while the rest of the team congratulates each other,each of them lining up to pat the goalie on the head for an excellent performance.
The post game events are over in a blink, and my body slowly relaxes from the adrenaline and the high from today’s win.
“So, when’s Crowther coming back?” Evans asks from beside me.
“Hopefully, he’ll be at the next game,” I answer.
“That’ll be good,” Reeves interjects. “Maybe we’ll score a few more goals with him back on the roster.” He rolls his shoulders and glances toward the scoreboard. “Not that the buzzer-beater wasn’t a kickass way to end the game, but four to three is way too narrow of a point spread.”
“We pulled off the win,” Griffin reminds him. “That's all that matters.”
“Barely,” Everett grunts.
