Page 19 of Game Winner
“Grab a drink and sit.” I tip my chin to the cabinet that houses the glasses. “We should talk.”
“About…?” Lines forming between his brows, he washes his hands then fills a glass with water from the dispenser in the refrigerator door.
I divide the spaghetti into two bowls then top them off with the sauce and meatballs, giving Tyler the best ones. “What we’re telling the team, or not telling them, about us. Someone said something to Gio today, so we need to decide how we’re handling things. I know we’re taking things slow. But I guess we have to at least acknowledge it with the coach and HR.”
“I wanted the chance to adjust to the team and the house and everything first, but I don’t want to lie to anyone. Let’s talk to Coach Nivens tonight, then go from there.” He grabs forks from the drawer before returning to the table. “You said people are noticing… Who was it?”
“Stephens.”
Tyler grimaces. “He hogs the puck too much. And Morgan said he was a dick to Sage last season. He doesn’t need to know anything about us. If he asks, he gets minimal information and then we change the subject.”
I set his bowl in front of him then claim the chair by his side. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about this part earlier. When people learned about Sage and Rhys last season, no one really cared. It wasn’t a big deal with the teammates, and I forgot they told Coach.”
His features softening, he lays his hand on my knee. “Hey, I haven’t dated a teammate before either. We’ll figure this out.” Keeping his hold on me, he rolls spaghetti onto his fork with his other hand.
“Is that what we doing? Dating?”
“I thought that’s where you, Bax, and I were headed.”
The pressure of his hand grounds me. Leaning into him, I scoop up some food. Nerves over talking to our coach and of teammates possibly scrutinizing us because they are the biggestbunch of gossips even if they don’t personally feel invested in something, messes with my appetite. But a ritual is a ritual, and fuel is fuel, so I swallow a bite and then another, listening to Tyler talk about moving companies and how he might have to leave everything in Canada until after the season so he can handle it all himself. If he has to do that, I’ll make sure I’m there to help him.
He’s animated and brightens up our kitchen. With his hand now in mine, I’m struck by how lucky I am that he’s here. And how I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t regret it.
Yellow Slash jerseys fill our arena, dotted with pops of purple from the occasional Metros jersey and the handful of Grand Rapids jerseys from fans who journeyed here to support their team.
Set up between the pipes, I’m ready to defend my territory. Most of the time, I love being back here myself, but I’m cutoff from the chirping on the bench and the things that happen outside my zone.
Tyler’s line is on the ice with Phil and Gio on defense. He wins the face-off, and knocks the puck to Gordy and he sends it up the ice to Cal. They work well together, having been linemates only a week.
The slap of the sticks on the pucks, they move in closer to the goalie. Attack mode, and the Grand Rapids defense can’t keep up. Tyler sets up a screen in front of the goalie and Gordy swoops in, poking the puck past two defensemen who couldn’t get around Tyler. He tucks a backhand through the Grand Rapids’ goalie’s five-hole.
The goal light flashes red and the siren wails. The crowd erupts and our teammates leap to their skates. I clap my stick on the ice, my version of applause because I’m too far away for them to hear me cheer.
Play resumes and our team still dominates. Shift changes come on and off the bench, and Tyler’s line heads back out, joining the play on the fly. Tyler gets his stick on the puck and flies deep into Grand Rapids’ zone. He passes it to Cal, and Cal redirects the pass off the boards right in front of the goalie. There’s a lucky bounce and it rolls into the net.
The red goal light flashes again and the siren wails.
Laughing in disbelief, I watch the replay. A totally lucky bounce. Cal gets the goal, and Tyler picks up his second assist of the night. When we file off the ice at the end of the first period, I murmur how proud I am of him, and he blushes the color of my strawberry sports drink.
The second period flies by. Grand Rapids has found some energy, and I’m much busier than I was in the first period. I hold our lead, stopping the first fifteen shots of the period.
The Grand Rapids third line center trips Cal and gets a penalty. We go on the power play, and Rasmus, our second line center, takes a shot from Gordy at the point made to the crease for the tap in. The puck sails through a gap between the pipe and the goalie’s skate blade.
The red light flashes, the siren wails, and the crowd cheers. It’s as exciting as the first goal of the game.
As soon as Grand Rapids comes out of the sin bin, Stephens goes in—twice. Once for tripping, and five minutes later, for too many men on the ice.
When we arrived at the arena and saw that Coach wasn’t in the best mood, Tyler and I decided we’d wait and talk to him while were on the road trip. Stephens is a shit-stirrer, and I wouldn’t put it past him to casually drop the information in frontof Coach, hoping to cause problems like a morally gray movie villain, so I don’t want to leave it for too long.
The period ends, we file off the ice, and I do my best to chat with everyone and not look over at Tyler. I can look again after we’ve told Coach and HR.
Most of the third period passes by with little action for me. I catch the little ways Gio and Phil communicate on the ice without words. How Tyler climbs over the boards. And that more than a few people in the crowd have my jersey. That never fails to amaze me.
On a sharp-angle shot from the bottom of the left circle, Tyler send the puck flying past the goalie’s shoulder and into the back of the net.
“Yes!” I come close to throwing my glove I the air. He did it, the scoring slump is over.
The red light flashes, the siren wails, and Tyler’s smile is as big as I’ve ever seen it. I can’t wait to congratulate him.
