Page 70 of Hockey Bois
“You should quit now if you can’t score on me!” Nick added with a wide grin.
“Oh, I’ll score on you. Make no mistake.” And then, to Nick’s profound shock and utter delight, Bradywinkedat him.
After Brady scored five in a row on him, Nick would claim it was that wink and not Brady’s skill that did him in.
*
“All right, huddle up.”
They were all sweaty, exhausted, and ready to punch someone at the slightest provocation. As a team, they’d played really late games, really early games, and the occasional doubleheader. They’d never had to play five competitive games in a single day. The Jagr Bombs were dog tired, and Nick was no exception.
Even Brady, Mr. Played-Hockey-in-School, was affected. Granted, he looked like he’d maybe played two tough games instead of five. His hair, however, was noticeably more disheveled than usual (was that why he usually had a hat? Becausefuuuckdid Nick want to run his hands through it), and he had the same scent of sweat and unwashed gear lingering on him that the rest of them did.
And yet… he smiled more than usual. Nothing too over the top, no wide, gummy grins or full-belly laughs, but there was a spark there that was frequently lit. He crowded into Nick’s space every chance he got, whispering about the game or the competition, giving advice or asking how he was doing.
“I’m fine,” Nick said for the umpteenth time. “Quit asking. You’re giving me a complex.”
Brady laughed and bumped his shoulder. “I’m Alternate Captain, I gotta check in with my boys during a tourney.”
“So you’re checking on everyone else every time they’re on the bench?” Nick challenged.
Brady put his hand over his eyes and did an exaggerated look around the rink. “Seems like they’re fine. Besides,they’renot my roommate.” He paused, giving Nick an appreciative look. “Youget a little extra.”
Nick scrambled onto the ice to escape; it was either that or spontaneously combust from how hard he was blushing.
Brady’s good humor wasn’t solely aimed at Nick; when Brady saw someone watching them, he’d happily redirect his energy their way.
“That was a pretty sick move on the breakout,” he said to Young Greg as he pulled him in by the jersey between face-offs. “Try to stick a little more to center ice, though. They’re gonna try to get you to the boards anyway, so don’t go there on your own.”
Young Greg nodded fervently, beaming at the praise. When he scored a goal the next shift after following Brady’s advice, he and Brady did a chest bump on the ice in celebration.
This was more like Drunk Brady than Hockey Brady. Drunker than Drunk Brady, really, since there was still quiet reservation when he drank. Drunk Brady was rosy cheeks and grins he gave out freely. This was something else, this youthful exuberance, these easy laughs.
Nick wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
“He must really like tournaments,” Lexi had said in awe when Brady had not only scored on the Power Play but tackled the rest of his line in celebration in place of his customary fist bumps at the bench.
Nick watched and hoped; in those moments when Brady was his regular self or closed off, there were doubts. When a teammate would see how closely they were sitting on the bench or raised an eyebrow at their whispering back and forth, Brady would stumble over his words and subtly put the space back between them. It was like a seesaw, up and down, hot and cold, and Nick didn’t know where things would land at the end of the day.
He also didn’t know how much of Brady’s enthusiasm was the tournament and how much was their shared room, and that blank space in their schedules between tonight and tomorrow morning.
“So,” Benns said in his “captain voice” once he had everyone gathered on the ice. Nick hadn’t even known his captain voice wasn’t his regular voice until he’d been on the team long enough to hear him bitch about the Caps and talk gently to his wife and daughters over the phone in the corner of the locker room. “We’ve already secured ourselves the fifth seed going into tomorrow’s playoffs. We have another game, but it doesn’t hurt or help us. Itcanhurt or help the other team, though, so they’ll be playing hard.”
“You saying we throw the game?” Gail said hopefully. “I could work on my soccer dives and embellishments.”
“I would never say throw a game,” Benns scolded. “I want you to know what the situation is. If you want to take it easy or try some things that you normally wouldn’t, I would encourage that. Don’t get drawn into fights with them unnecessarily and don’t do anything risky that might hurt you and make it harder to play when it counts tomorrow.”
“So I should totally play in net,” Young Greg said. “Always wanted to try out goalie.”
Guy handed him his stick and started taking off his goalie mitt to hand to him; Donno wordlessly took the stick and handed it back to Guy.
Benns ignored all three of them.
“Any game, even a pick-up game, gives us an opportunity to practice and improve. This one frees us of needing to put a million goals on the board and keep one hundred percent of goals out of the back of the net. Did anyone notice some strategies other teams used and have suggestions on things to work on to counteract them?”
Brady pushed forward with his hand raised, shouldering Nick aside but somehow managing not to break contact afterward. It was completely unnecessary and almost certainly intentional.
And Nick leaned into the contact to show he absolutely approved.
