Page 93 of Rookie Move
He’d just have to ride it out. Over the next few days the trade would either happen or not. And if it did, he’d make it clear to her that they still weren’t over. Vancouver to Brooklyn was a hell of a distance. But the end of the season was just a few months away. They could have the summer together...
“Silas Kelly!” Coach Karl barked from the doorway. “Can you play tonight?”
The goalie shot to his feet. “Of course.”
Coach tapped the doorframe. “Good. Because it seems that Beacon has a touch of food poisoning. He keeps claiming he’ll be okay, but he hasn’t left the bathroom stall for forty-five minutes.”
“I’m ready,” Silas promised. “I’ll stretch out now.”
“You do that. Then I want you huddled up with the goaltending coach. Puck drops in ninety minutes.” He disappeared.
When he was gone, Silas cursed under his breath. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“I feel ya.” This would be Silas’s first game for Coach Karl. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been told yesterday or this morning that he’d be minding the net tonight. “You got this,” he said.
Silas gave him a salute, then sat down in the straddle position to stretch.
Leo left him there and went to see if the elimination soccer game was in progress yet.
***
Ninety minutes later, Leo felt calm and ready to play. His head was in the right place, and he felt strong and in control during his first few shifts on the ice. If Coach was going to ship his ass to Canada next week, at least he’d go out looking like a champ.
The Rangers were a formidable team, but he knew if they kept their heads in the game they had a chance to prevail. The game was scoreless after ten minutes. Leo, Bayer, and the other forwards kept the pressure up, evenif the opponent’s excellent blueliners thwarted their best attempts at scoring.
Patience, Leo reminded himself. He’d keep taking shots, and create a scoring opportunity. Soon.
Or maybe not. Because when Bayer got pinched into the corner by the other team’s defensemen, he lost control of the puck. Their opponents passed to a capable forward, who broke toward the Bruisers’ net.
O’Doul positioned himself perfectly to intercept the guy. It should have been fine. But their sniper took a long wrist shot. It wasn’t particularly fast or hard to read. But Silas adjusted his stance poorly, overreacting to the angle.
The puck edged past the butt of his stick blade and went in.
Twelve thousand fans yelled “NOOOOO” in unison, even as the lamp lit.
O’Doul skated down to Silas, and Leo heard him say, “Shit happens, kid. Shake it off.”
Unfortunately for all of them, Silas did not shake it off.
He looked shaky during the rest of the first period, and although Coach Karl gave an inspiring sermon during the break, the second period was a complete disaster. The skaters fought hard, but the Rangers smelled blood between the pipes. The way they drew a penalty on O’Doul was practically an art form. Then they gave it everything they had on the power play, scoring during the first thirty seconds of their advantage.
Fuck, Leo whispered under his breath. The other team had played Silas perfectly, and now all the momentum belonged to them.
The second half of the game felt like the longest that Leo had ever played. He and the other forwards played their best, but all their shots were thwarted. By the middle of the third period, the score was four to zero. A green-looking Beacon skated out to replace Silas.
Beacon held off any further goals, but the damage was done. Leo, sweat dripping down his face, battled until the final buzzer without a goal. His hip ached from a roughcheck into the boards, and his quads were on fire. And with nothing to show for it.
Afterward, the locker room was quiet, and not in a good way. Leo took a long shower and tried not to wonder what the bad game meant for him personally. He got dressed slowly, and when the locker room door opened, he heard Georgia’s sweet voice cajoling O’Doul into an interview with thePost.
He couldn’t wait to go home and drop into bed. If only Georgia were there to curl up beside him. He had a strong urge to take her aside and plead his case. Kiss her. Bribe her. (Not that she was the type to be swayed by gifts. But he was desperate.) Whatever it took.
But he’d already shown her he cared—he’d done everything short of getting down on his knees and begging. If she needed her space until his future was sorted out, he’d be patient.
He’d have to be.
TWENTY-NINE
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 22ND
