Page 25 of Hockey Bois
Brady skated over and snowed him.
“Wha—?”
“Yikes, bro,” Brady deadpanned. He towered over where Dube lay dazed on the ice. “Looks like you’re not ready to play with the big boys here in D4. Maybe you should ask the commish about starting a D5 league for ya. Might be more your speed.”
“Jensen, box,” the ref ordered (though Nick noted she’d waited until after he’d said his piece). “Two minutes for checking.”
Brady shrugged and skated off. Usually when someone on the team took a penalty, Brady would talk to the ref about it, ask (politely) for a clarification, and make the team’s case. It never resulted in the penalty being taken away, but it’d made him popular with the refs for not bitching and for making adjustments afterward to clean up his play and the play of the team.
This time, he didn’t bother. He knew why he’d gotten the penalty—they all did—and he was fine with it.
The rest of the game was surprisingly uneventful. Little Dube played, but he stayed in line. His team grumbled and chirped from the bench but didn’t follow up words with actions on the ice. The Jagr Bombs, delighted that they’d come out looking better in the whole thing, didn’t have any reason to cause trouble.
Little Dube might have even apologized to Brady in the handshake line post-game. There were definite words exchanged, their fistbump to each other perfunctory. Sadly, Nick was too far away to hear a damn thing.
“Did you let him get that breakaway on purpose?” Nick whispered to Brady as they both bent down in the locker room to unlace their skates.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Brady said casually. “I would never let my duties as a defenseman slide like that.”
Nick tried not to grin. Brady’s voice sounded as even as always, but there was a playful spark in his eyes that Nick recognized from conversations over stick-and-puck.
“Uh huh.” He pulled off his right skate and then started to work on the left. “Either way, nice work. I’ve never seen someone go flying like that outside of the NHL.”
“I’ll be handing out autographs on my way to the car. Sign your stick if you want.”
“Fuck off.” Nick playfully shoved him with his shoulder.
“Or your jersey. Be worth big bucks on the D4 fan circuit.”
This time Nick cleaned the leftover ice off his skates and flicked it at Brady. “You’re an asshole.”
“Watch yourself, Nicki. You’re the next one to go flying. Won’t even take a penalty, doing it to a teammate.”
This time Nick choked a little. He wouldloveto have Brady putanymoves on him, never mind ones that landed him on his back, and he could feel his cheeks heating up as he thought about it.
“Yeah, no thanks,” he mumbled.
Brady mercifully let it go.
*
Curtis Bennet: I think we should try a team outing! We’ve done a great job finding chemistry on the ice, but I think we can improve that by getting to know each other outside of the rink.
Gregory Smegory: OMFG please tell me we’re gonna go curling or get Zamboni lessons yesss pls pls pls
Gail King: You even old enough to drive a car?? They gonna card you before you get on a Zamboni
Guy Prince: Curling is traditionally a drinking game and you are not old enough to drink, no?
Nick J. Porter: hey have you ever noticed that we’ve got a king AND a prince on the team??
Gail King:??????
Guy Prince:??
Gail King: Guy you are fabulous give yourself at least one more crown you deserve it for that shutout last week
Guy Prince:??
