Page 28 of Slap Shot
The puck was intercepted.
"Mateo!" Coach Vicky's whistle pierced the air. "What the hell was that?"
"I thought Kane had a better angle."
"You had a grade-A scoring chance, and you gave it away for something pretty." She skated over, fixing him with a stare thatcould melt ice. "This isn't Instagram, kid. When you get a clean look, you shoot."
They ran the drill again. This time, Oliver made sure to put the pass on Mateo's forehand, right in his wheelhouse. The shot went bar down with authority, and Coach nodded approval.
"Better. Next group."
For the next hour, they worked through various power play setups, penalty kill formations, and defensive zone coverage. Oliver’s game sharpened with each repetition, his mind fully engaged with the tactical aspects of hockey.
"You look different today," Noah commented during a water break. "More settled. Whatever was eating at you seems to be resolved."
"Just needed to work some things out," Oliver replied, which was true enough. Working things out with Heather had involved more than just clearing up the hacking accusations. It had involved her hands in his hair and her body responding to his touch in ways that still made his blood run hot.
"Good. Team needs you locked in with the season starting soon." The veteran defenseman lowered his voice. "Speaking of which, heard you've been helping with the security investigation. Must be intense work, especially after what happened to Jax."
Oliver's expression darkened. The leak of Jax medical records had really pissed off the team. "How's he holding up?"
"Angry as hell. Whoever leaked that stuff knew exactly what would cause the most damage." Noah's tone was grim. "Makes everyone nervous about what else they might have accessed."
Oliver nodded, his jaw tightening at the reminder of how personal the attacks had become.
"Speaking of being careful," Noah continued, his tone carefully neutral, "front office relationships can be tricky. Just saying, be smart about how you handle things. People are already talking about you and Heather."
Before Oliver could respond, Coach Vicky called for attention. "Scrimmage time. Red versus white. First to five goals wins, losers do suicides."
The competitive atmosphere immediately ratcheted up several notches. Nobody wanted to spend the last ten minutes of practice skating wind sprints, which meant the scrimmage would be played at near-game intensity.
Oliver was on the white team with Kane, Dmitri, Noah, and Sven in goal. Red team countered with Mateo, Ethan, Jax, Liam, and a couple of bottom-six forwards who'd been competing for roster spots.
The puck dropped, and Oliver immediately engaged. Kane won the faceoff back to Noah, who chipped it up the boards to Oliver. He gathered the pass cleanly, scanning for options as red forecheckers converged on his position.
Dmitri was streaking down the left wing, calling for the puck. Oliver could see Jax backing up, trying to cut off the passing lane while staying close enough to challenge any shot attempt.
Oliver faked the pass to Dmitri, drawing Jax another step toward the boards, then cut hard to the middle of the ice. The move created just enough space for him to get his shot off, a quick wrist shot that beat Liam clean over the glove.
"Beauty!" Dmitri hollered, crashing into Oliver in celebration. "Is like watching master chef prepare borscht. Looks easy but requires many years of practice."
The scrimmage continued at a furious pace. Oliver was in a zone he rarely achieved, where the game seemed to slow down and every decision became obvious. He set up Kane for a tap-in goal with a perfectly timed pass from behind the net. He broke up a two-on-one rush with a well-positioned poke check that sent the puck harmlessly into the corner.
With the score tied 4-4, the red team pressed for the winning goal. Mateo had the puck in the corner, looking for away to create something dangerous. Oliver read his intentions, anticipating the pass to Ethan in the slot.
He stepped into the passing lane, intercepted the puck, and was off to the races on a breakaway.
Just him and Liam, sixty feet of ice between them and victory for the white team. Oliver gathered speed, puck dancing on his stick blade as he approached the goal. Liam was playing the percentages, staying back in his crease, making Oliver beat him with skill rather than angle.
Twenty feet out, Oliver made his decision. Instead of trying to fake out the goalie, he fired a shot that caught the top corner cleanly. Liam's glove was a fraction of a second too late. The puck already nestled in the mesh by the time he reacted.
"Holy shit, Chenny," Kane grabbed him in a bear hug as their teammates mobbed them at center ice. "That was sick!"
"Lucky shot," Liam called from his crease, but he was grinning. Professional goalies appreciated good shots, even when they went in.
"Lucky my babushka's dentures," Dmitri laughed. "Was pure skill. Chenny is playing like bear who just wake up from hibernation, hungry and dangerous."
Coach Vicky skated over as the celebration died down. "That's how you play hockey," she said simply. "Focused, smart, ruthless when you get your chances." Her eyes found Oliver's. "Whatever you did to get your head straight, keep doing it."
