Page 72 of Slap Shot
Liam
The penalty shot was coming straight at him, and Liam Castillo had never felt more alone.
Eight thousand hostile fans held their breath as the opposing forward bore down on his net, but all Liam could hear was the scrape of skates on ice and his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Game seven of the first playoff round, third period, tie game, and everything was riding on this save.
He tracked the shooter's approach, reading body language and stick position like a roadmap to salvation. Glove side, instinct told him. The guy always went glove side when the pressure was on.
The shot came low blocker instead.
Liam's pad snapped across his crease with the desperation that defined playoff hockey, the puck deflecting harmlessly into the corner as the visiting section exploded while eight thousand home fans fell silent. His teammates poured over the boards, converging on his crease in a celebration that would make every highlight reel back home.
"Fucking beauty!" Kane screamed in his ear over the roar of their bench.
They held on for two more minutes of desperation hockey before the final buzzer sent them to the second round. As the arena slowly emptied and they headed toward the visitor's locker room, Liam allowed himself to think about the text he'd gotten during warm-ups. Phoebe, saying she'd made the trip with the front office staff to support the team through the first round.
Phoebe. Who'd been driving him insane all season with her smart mouth and her competitive streak and the way she looked at him when she thought no one was watching.
He'd been building up the courage for months now. Watching her work the crowd during games, seeing her dedication to making every fan experience special, catching those moments when the penguin head came off and her real smile appeared, tired but genuine, like she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Tonight was different. Like maybe the save, the series win, the way his teammates had been chirping him all season about his obvious thing for the mascot, maybe it was all leading to this moment. Maybe it was time to stop pretending he didn't think about her every damn day.
The media took forever, questions about the save, the series, what this meant for their Stanley Cup chances. Liam answered on autopilot while his mind raced with everything he wanted to say to Phoebe. Everything he'd been holding back for months of professional distance and careful deflection and stolen glances across team events.
He practically sprinted out of the visitors' tunnel still in his suit, scanning for her familiar figure among the small group of staff and family members who'd made the trip.
There, by the exit to the parking garage, still in the full penguin costume even though the game had been over for an hour. She was surrounded by a group of kids from a local hospital, doing her full routine despite what had to be exhaustion after performing for three periods.
Liam stopped in the shadows, watching her make those sick kids laugh with her exaggerated waddle and enthusiastic wing flaps. This was why he couldn't get her out of his head. Not just because she was gorgeous under that costume, though shedefinitely was, but because she cared as much about making people happy as he cared about stopping pucks.
The kids finally left with their chaperones, and Phoebe pulled off the penguin head, her hair plastered to her head with sweat, her face flushed from the costume's heat. She looked exhausted and perfect and Liam's feet were moving before his brain caught up.
"Hell of a show tonight," he said, trying for casual and probably failing miserably.
Phoebe spun around, nearly dropping the penguin head. "Liam! Shit, you scared me."
"Sorry. Just wanted to say thanks for making the trip. Means a lot to the guys, having you here."
"It's my job," she said, but her smile was soft. "Besides, someone had to make sure you didn't get too cocky after that save."
"Lucky save."
"Bullshit. You read him perfectly." She shifted the costume head to her other arm, and Liam noticed the way her shoulders sagged with fatigue. "You always know exactly where the puck's going."
"Not always," he said, taking a step closer. "Sometimes I'm completely lost."
Phoebe's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting like she was about to say something that might change everything.
"Phoebe!" A voice called from behind them. "There you are, babe."
Liam's stomach dropped to his skates as a guy in an expensive suit appeared from the hotel entrance, moving toward them with the confidence of someone who belonged. Tall, handsome in that Wall Street way, with a smile that probably closed million-dollar deals.
"Tyler," Phoebe said, her voice strange. "I thought you couldn't make it."
"Caught an earlier flight. Wanted to surprise you." Tyler wrapped an arm around Phoebe's waist, pulling her against him with casual possession. Only then did his eyes find Liam. "Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"This is Liam Castillo," Phoebe said, not quite meeting Liam's eyes. "Our starting goalie. Liam, this is Tyler. My... fiancé."
The word hit like a slap shot to the chest.
