Page 109 of Drop the Gloves
He liked the idea of a care package, since he wanted to take care of Riley like he almost had at Lawson’s place but hadn’t been allowed to.He ordered a bunch of things to his place so he could assemble the package and drop it off once they were back in Pittsburgh, then he found a place that made custom ties and bought a duo of matching Riveters ties: one yellow with green wrenches, the other green with yellow wrenches.Something that would be waiting at Riley’s door when he got home.
It wasn’t much, but like Dalton had said, it was about the gesture itself.Reaching out and showing that he cared.More than that, that heknewRiley.Evansawhim, not just the exterior of Barczyk the pest or Barzy the teammate.He saw Riley underneath all that, and he cared about that person.
Satisfied that this might be the little nudge Riley needed to, y’know, have a meaningful conversation with Evan in the near future, Evan tucked himself into bed and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.
45
The Motor City Racerswere the only thing that stood between them and a flight back to Pittsburgh for the holidays.The Riveters were restless in the locker room, too focused on their plans with family to have their heads in the game.Never a good sign, in Evan’s experience, but he couldn’t exactly claim to be doing any better; he caught himself staring at Riley more often than he could reasonably claim was platonic.
On the ice before the game, Evan skated to his and Riley’s usual spot above the left circle.Not that Riley had engaged in their pre-game ritual lately, but Evan stood vigil on the off chance he’d change his mind.He stickhandled absentmindedly until there were only a few minutes left on the clock.He sighed and passed away his puck...and inspiration struck.
He leaned forward a little, resting his hands on his thighs like he would when Riley was about to swing his stick at him.Then he mimed being hit, staggering forward in the dramatic way Riley sometimes had before hitting the ice.He twirled in a half-circle on his knees, too nostalgic to care about how ridiculous he must look doing the routine alone.
When he got up, he spotted Riley at the bench, watching him.He stood with one foot on the ice, the other on the bench, as if about to go back into the locker room but had stopped.Had he seen?
Evan skated over faster than he’d ever skated during a warm-up—he didn’t want to risk Riley disappearing down the tunnel—and stopped so hard he sprayed snow across the ice.His mom had sometimes compared him to an overgrown puppy; this was one of the rare times he kind of agreed with her.
“Hi,” he said cheerfully.“Ready to play?”
Riley appraised him, a slow crawl up his body from skates to helmet before he asked, “You doing solo whacks now?”
“Well, my good-luck partner left,” he said.“Guess all the good mojo’s mine tonight.”
Riley smiled, a split second of amusement before he smoothed it out.“We’ll see, Abs.We’ll see.”
The Racers seemed to be experiencing the same lethargy as the Riveters.It was a dull game to watch, and that included when Evan was actively playing.No one seemed to be trying, and both teams mustered up a combined and pitiful total of seven shots on goal in the first period.It had the feel of an exhibition match or a pre-season game, and it wasn’t easy to break out of that mentality.
Coach Jack stood in the middle of the locker room, hands in his pockets as he chewed gum and considered what to say.Evan expected to get chewed out for their lackluster performance, but he calmly said, “You think I want to be in Detroit today?My kids are at home, setting up the Christmas tree and baking cookies, and I’m stuck here watching this piss-poor attempt at a hockey game.You wanna go home with a win, or do you want to end the year with a loss?Figure it out, exploit the Racers’ laziness, and put some pucks in the net.”
“The goalie has faced no shots,” Vassiliev said conspiratorially.Only mostly true: the Riveters had put up three so far.“He’s not warmed up anymore.We fire everything and something goes in, yes?”
“Were younotshooting the puck?”Riley asked in mock offense.“Some of us have been trying to score the whole time.”
“You don’t even look awake out there,” Vassiliev snapped back.“Not a single hit!Did you forget how to play hockey?”
“You want me to shoot, or you want me to hit?”
“You always do both!”
“And you haven’t been doing either!”
Well,Evan thought,at least they’re fired up.
Just wish it weren’t at each other.
In the second period, they got hemmed into the defensive zone for a good forty seconds.Evan’s legs were burning, and all he wanted was to get off the ice.When one of their defensemen managed to lob it through the air over everyone’s heads and out to center, that was what Evan planned to do...until he saw Riley sprinting out for the loose puck.
Sensing a chance, Evan and Vassiliev went with him.Riley knocked the puck away from one defender and went down ice one-on-one with the other.
“Hey!”Evan called, banging his stick on the ice to get Riley’s attention.“Drop!”
Without looking, Riley left the puck for Evan and drew the defenseman away.Evan came in, ready to take a shot when the other defenseman came out of nowhere and did a diving slide in front of Evan as the goalie squared up.Evan grabbed the puck, wondering if he should still shoot—there was no chance it was going in—and in that split second, he saw a white jersey out of the corner of his eye.Taking a chance, he passed the puck over to what he hoped was a Riveter.
There was barely time to see it was Vassiliev before he shot into the wide open net.
Tic-Tac-Toe.Riley to Evan to Vassiliev.Perfect line chemistry at work.
“Oh thank fuck,” Evan said.If they’d messed this up, he had zero energy to regain possession of the puck or help on defense.He and Riley hit Vassiliev at the same time, followed by the defensemen.
