Page 64 of Zero Pucks Given
And smashed right into me.
I leaned my shoulder into him, catching him underneath the jaw. He crumpled to the ice while I stole the puck, going on the offensive while the crowd groaned and shouted. It was music to my ears, and I fed on it while weaving between defenders on my way to the goal. By the time I shot the puck, there was no doubt in my mind it was going in the net.
I raised my hands to the sky and sneered at the opposing crowd. My teammates surrounded me once again, but I only had eyes for Josie. She was on her feet, banging against the glass while shouting at the top of her lungs.
“LET’S GO GRAYSON!”
Our gazes collided. And even though we were surrounded by thousands of fans, we shared a private little smile.
I was the goddamn Steele Wall. And when I felt like this?
Nothing could stop me.
31
Josie
Was it my imagination, or did Grayson keep glancing over at me? It was tough to tell because I was sitting right behind the team bench. He might have been looking at his coach or teammates.
But after the second goal, I was certain.
That lusty smile was for me, and me alone.
I still didn’t consider myself a hockey fan, but it was impossible not to be swept up in the excitement of the game. The Surge were representing San Antonio, my city. We were outsiders here.
And I cared deeply about the star player.
The rest of the game wasn’t even close. The Surge took a four-goal lead going into the third period, then began playing defensively to preserve the lead. The Oilers got desperate with one minute left in the game, and that made them sloppy. A player on the Surge stole the puck and passed it across the rink to Grayson, who had an open look at the goal. He dribbled the puck back and forth, then fired it through the goaltender’s legs.
When a player scored three goals in a game, it was called a “hat trick.” I had no idea why, but it was a somewhat rare feat; I hadn’t seen one at the Frost Bank Center all season. Hats began flying through theair, thrown by the Surge fans in the arena and even some of the Oilers fans who appreciated the accomplishment. Hats rained down on the rink until I could barely see the ice beneath.
Arena employees had to go out on the ice to clean it all up, delaying the end of the game. But the horn blared soon after that, signaling the end of the first game of the series.
The Surge had won, five to zero.
And the man at the center of it all, Grayson Steele, kept smiling directly at me.
When I got back to the hotel, I went straight to the lobby bar for a celebratory beer. The bar was shaped like a donut in the middle of the room, and I positioned myself on the side facing the TVs so I could watch all the post-game coverage.
Grayson was sitting in front of a bouquet of microphones. His hair was damp from the shower, and he was wearing blue shorts and a Surge T-shirt while answering questions from reporters.
“I can’t explain it. I got in a groove out there. That happens sometimes, you know?” He grinned weakly. “I like to think it happens more when we’re well-prepared. I spent a lot of time over the last week looking at game tape, trying to figure out the holes in this Oilers defense. I guess it paid off.”
The bartender placed my beer in front of me and glanced at the TV. “The Surge are good. If they can get past my Oilers, I wouldn’t be surprised if they make it to the finals.”
I raised my beer. “Here’s hoping.”
I nursed my beer while reviewing the metrics on my TikTok channel, then ordered another. By the time it arrived, the Surge players were walking through the lobby to the elevators, laughing and shouting. There was a lot of tension in the air yesterday, but the victory had changed the mood completely.
“First round’s on me!” one player announced.
“The team’s paying for everything, jackass,” another guy replied.
“Exactly! It’s the one time I can be generous on a rookie’s salary!”
“You heard the man. Drinks are on Mason!”
Half a dozen players came into the bar and gathered around a booth in the corner. Grayson was unmistakable, standing a few inches taller than the others, and with broad shoulders that I would recognize anywhere. I was sitting on the other side of the bar from them, mostly hidden by the circular wall of liquor bottles in the center.
