Chapter 21AsherTheo
Asher
It was a home game against the Highlanders, a PCSHL team based in Bridgeport, and we were getting stomped.
Their defense was the best I’d ever faced.
Anytime one of us got anywhere near their crease, the Highlanders’ defense would overpower us with their size and strength.
It wasn’t just their size; they handled the puck with the skill of a forward and were fast and aggressive on the forecheck.
We couldn’t get past them, and they’d stolen the puck more times than I could count.
They also had a goaltender who was insane.
I never saw a hockey goalie move like that. He was bound for the NHL for sure.
The referee’s whistle screeched, and our coach called a timeout. We skated to the bench.
“Brihachek and Cushin, take a seat. Moretti and Hutchison, you’re in.”
What? No way!
I was about to step onto the ice for my first game with Theo, and I was bubbling with excitement. He shot me a cocky smirk that made my heart flutter. It had been so long since I played alongside Theo, and I couldn’t wait.
Coach kept barking instructions. “Their defense is crushing us. Hutchison, I want you to stay back and play shutdown D. Moretti, do your best to protect our forwards in the offensive zone—give them the space they need to take a shot. GO!”
He waved to the ref, signaling the face-off, and the game resumed.
I skated to center ice, lowered into my stance, and all the fatigue from the hard-fought game melted away. Theo was standing behind me, and that boost of knowing he was out there was pure adrenaline. I was ready to win—and I wanted to do it with my boyfriend right by my side.
The puck dropped, and the battle began. Their center was quick, but I was in a new headspace, and I won the puck battle.
I slapped it back to Quincy, who pushed past the blue line, but their defense was on him like a hawk.
He slapped it back to me, and I fed it to McKenzie, our left winger.
I moved up, hoping for a pass back, but he was covered tight.
Suddenly, Theo was there, throwing himself into the chaos.
He emerged with the puck and bolted toward me.
A quick pass, and I was off, Theo guarding me like a shield.
Their defense clamped down, but Theo blocked their attempts to swipe the puck.
He skated down the ice, inching closer to the crease.
The defenders tried to get past him, but he was an immovable wall.
I didn’t have a clear shot, so I passed it to Quincy. He wound up and shot off the crossbar. I raced after the rebound, their defense just behind me, but Theo was there again. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pushing me toward the crease, clearing the path for the shot.
All three of their forwards flooded the offensive zone. Their right winger had me covered, so I slid a pass to McKenzie. He quickly fired a shot on goal, then tipped it back to me.
The forwards’ blades spun as they hustled to close the gap. Their defense realized what was coming and scrambled to block Quincy, who fed it back to me. The entire Highlanders squad was converging, and I knew I had one shot to make this count.
I passed the puck to Theo and yelled, “Take the shot!”
He faked left, baiting the goalie—then snapped the puck into the top right corner.
Goal!
I sprinted to Theo, and he bolted toward me, tackling me in a tight, jubilant embrace.
The joy in his eyes was a sight I’d carry with me forever.
I was flying high. My big, sweet boyfriend had gone from warming the bench all season to scoring his first shift on the ice.
He wrapped his arms around me, and we held each other a little too long—because I didn’t care. I was just so damn happy for him.
My dream was for both of us to succeed. Theo deserved all the acclaim he constantly insisted I earned. He worked just as hard as I did, and he belonged out there—on that ice, battling for every inch.
We were tied at 1-1, halfway through the second period, and I knew this game was far from over.
Theo
McKenzie skated to the left face-off circle in the offensive zone and lowered into position. My body was trembling. I could count the number of goals I’d scored on one hand. Defensemen rarely get the opportunity to shoot, but Asher set me up for one.
The puck dropped, but McKenzie lost the draw.
Their right winger slid it to their center, who burst into our defensive zone like a bat out of hell.
I held my ground, covering Willis, our goalie.
Hutchison, our right D, was beside me. He was as big as a house, and together, we formed an impenetrable wall.
Their center skated straight toward me, then made a quick pass to their left winger.
He rounded the corner, so I met him behind the net and checked him into the boards.
A scuffle erupted, and we fought tooth and nail for the puck.
I snagged it and passed it to McKenzie, who had sprinted back to help us out.
He sent it to Quincy, but their right winger roughed him up and pushed him into the boards. I shot over to his side, and the scrap intensified—elbows flying, hips checking. I slammed the winger into the glass with my upper body, then passed the puck to Asher, who was waiting at the blue line.
The Highlanders’ defense was closing in. Asher reeled back his stick, faking a slap shot. The defenders shifted toward the middle, reading where they thought Asher was going to shoot. But then—a quick, sharp pass to McKenzie led to a breakaway.
McKenzie carried the puck down the ice, but their defense had readjusted and didn’t give him a clear shot. Asher skated toward the chaos, and I followed, managing to stay in the midst of the fray.
Quincy cut right. I saw him in my peripheral vision—three on two, with Asher, McKenzie, and me battling their defenders for control.
Asher came out with the puck, but the defense hit him hard, knocking him to the ice. I was there, pushing back with everything I had. McKenzie took the puck and sent a quick pass to Quincy, but their wingers were relentless on him.
Asher was back on his skates and open, so Quincy fed him the puck. Asher controlled it and pushed forward. I skated in front of him, ready to block any defenders closing in, giving him space to set up. He slapped the puck—but the goalie snatched it out of the air.
The puck then bounced to a Highlanders’ winger who chased it down hard, but Hutchison poked the puck away, sending it bouncing against the boards.
I managed to get there first, but their left winger slammed me into the glass. Pain shot down my arm, but I didn’t give in. I kept battling for the puck and finally emerged victorious. I moved the puck back into the offensive zone and fed it to McKenzie.
He quickly passed to Asher, then I looped to his right.
We kept passing back and forth to each other, skating toward the net.
We were completely in sync, soaring down the ice together.
The defense was bracing for one of us to shoot, but I knew Asher had a mean slap shot.
He passed it back, and I launched myself toward him, acting as a shield.
He cracked the puck, blasting it right into the upper right corner of the net.
Score: 2-1. We had finally found our rhythm.
I picked Asher up and spun around like a damn rag doll. My pretty boy was such a sexy mothafucka on the ice.
I looked over at Coach. His eyes were lit up with excitement. Something told me he’d just made an adjustment to our top six.
Maybe I was finally getting my shot after all.