Page 10 of Hockey Bois
“You’re insane!” Nick shouted after him as he weaved in and out of the kids. He was winded, his legs ached, but he wasnotgoing to call uncle and quit before Brady. It was a pigheaded move that reminded him of his track days, but watching how easily Brady dideverythingmade him want to step up andbeathim. Even if there was no way that was happening today or tomorrow or anytime soon, going 100% today was the first step.
Snow flew as he slammed to a stop a few feet short of the boards. The Zamboni was humming in the corner, a sure sign their time was up, and Brady stood there cool as a fucking cucumber, like he hadn’t put Nick through an intense workout.
“Not bad, Nicki,” he praised, and fuck him for not even being out of breath. “You don’t even look like a new skater anymore.”
“Fuck off.” Nick’s smile belied the anger of his words. “If I don’t score a goal after this, I’ll be pissed.”
“You want a goal? I’ll get you a goal.”
“Sure, Gretzky.”
The Zamboni door swung open and the goal horn sounded, an unsubtleget the fuck off the ice. Nick and Brady obediently skated off while the kids ignored the warning.
“I’m serious. I’ll get you a goal.”
“What, I crash the net and you bounce it off my face or something?” He wobbled on the carpet as he stepped off the ice. “I’m looking a little higher than garbage goals.”
“Big words from a guy withnogoals.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
Nick gave him two middle fingers as he backed into the locker room. Or at least he tried to; he wasn’t sure the gloves adequately conveyed the gesture.
“Garbage goals win games,” Brady added. “Do not besmirch the good name of garbage goals.”
“First of all, ‘besmirch’? Fucking SATs are over. Second of all, it literally has ‘garbage’ in the name. There’s no ‘besmirching’ necessary.”
It was hard to tell as Brady pulled off his jersey, but it looked like he was smiling. Again. He’d seen Brady smile more in the past hour than he had in nearly four weeks of playing together.
It was a good look on him.
“You want a goal or not?” It was slightly unfair of Brady to expect an intelligible answer from Nick while he was essentially shirtless.
You’ve seen him in less clothing than that. You’re in the same locker room undressing like one or two times a week. Get over it.
…though usually the rest of the team is there. And I’m not talking to him. Normally there’s nothing to give away when my eyes slip.
“Yeah,” Nick grumbled. “I want a goal.”
“Good. Fuck that ‘garbage goal’ bull; you can get that from the Gregs. We’re going for top shelf.”
“But you said—”
“I didn’t say shit. You did. I’ll push up when I get a chance. You make sure you keep up; once they overcommit to covering me—”
“Full of yourself much?”
“Eat me. They’ll cover me. When they do, be ready for a pass and aim. You think you can handle that?”
A vivid image of himself lining up the shot and completely missing the puck came to his mind. “Uh… maybe?”
“Okay, thenmaybeyou’ll get a goal. Keep in mind, we can only try this, like, once per game, or they’ll catch on, so maybe try to score the first time around?”
A warm feeling settled in Nick’s chest. This was the most he’d ever heard Brady talk to anyone,ever; Nick was seeing a whole new side of him. Apparently, the way into Brady’s good graces was through actually caring about hockey. He’d opened up into someone warm and almost playful, a glimpse at who he was underneath Tough Hockey Guy.
“Well, thanks. For the possible goal and for practicing with me today. Whatever I was going to do on my own, this was a million times better.”
