Page 67 of No Rhyme or Roughing
But it was no use. We weren’t fast enough. Bing. Bang. Save?
I skidded to a stop, ice spraying in front of me. Had that just happened? Gonzo went spread eagle, sliding from post to post to track all three skaters before snapping the puck into his glove.
Someonecame to play.
I skated to the bench and collapsed onto the metal seat, breath still heavy. I watched as our second line chased the puck, skating so hard their legs would be dead tonight. I watched our three bench coaches shouting instructions, their voices booming.
My gaze lifted to the stands, where our small but fiercely loyal fanbase hung on every play. We only had one more home game after tonight before a three-week road trip. Our fans, more than anyone, deserved this team.
Mr. Mac deserved it.
My teammates definitely did.
Which was why, when the song Sydney and I had planned came on during a commercial break, I stood and took the ice. The refs didn’t chase me this time, but I felt a presence behind me. Looking back, I spotted Teddy, a goofy grin plastered across his face, his feet planted shoulder-width apart.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He pulled off his helmet, sliding it across the ice toward the bench. “Haven’t you learned anything, bro?” He lifted his arms, wiggling his fingers in the air. “If you go all jazz fingers, then I do too. We do this together.”
His words—the words of the best friend I’d ever had, or likely ever would—hit me hard. The guilt gnawed at me as I glanced to where Sydney had been sitting. She wasn’t there. I figured she was still in the sound booth or had found a better spot to take the video. But in that moment, I knew seeing Sydney behind her brother’s back wasn’t an option anymore.
Teddy started dancing first, much more animatedly than I’d done before. I watched him for a moment. He wasgood.Surprisingly good. So, I mirrored his moves, wondering if we looked like we’d choreographed this or were just two idiots goofing around.
He reached for my hand, and I let him take it, unsure of what he was planning. Then, he pulled me close, and we tangoed across the ice.
A bark of laughter shot out of me as Teddy started singing along to Beyoncé, completely offbeat. The moves were all wrong for the rhythm, but when we broke apart, we skated circles around each other, picking up speed before shooting off to opposite ends of the ice.
His fingers danced in the air like he was a damn showgirl, but he could pull it off. Me? I let my feet do the work, grapevining from one board to the other. If we were going to keep doing this, we probably needed real choreography, but I had faith in Sydney’s editing skills.
Our scattered fans yelled and cheered. Even the guys on the bench, less shocked this time, hollered for us.
Our coaches? Not so much.
But we didn’t care.
For the first time in my life, I let go. Of what others thought of me. Of the past, with Sullie and Sam. Of the weight of this team’s impending sale. With Teddy by my side, this was—dare I say it—fun.
And I wanted to do it again. And again.
There was something freeing about bucking the norm.
As the music faded, Teddy dropped to his knees, arms splayed dramatically. I did one final turn and lifted my hands to the fans.
And then, it was over. Our third line scrambled over the boards as the game resumed.
We won the game five to nothing. Shutout. Neither Teddy nor I scored a goal, but I’d never felt more valuable to the team.
When I entered the locker room, the rest of the guys were waiting.
Julian Nightshade—Teddy’s favorite person to callNighty Nightwhen he wanted to annoy him—stepped forward, eyeing the two of us.
“Okay, you two. Talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SYDNEY
“Sydney, wait up!”
