CHAPTER TWO #2
Tanner was lucky if he could plan what he was going to eat in a day or remember to do laundry, much less sabotage a guy’s entire fucking future NHL career.
No. It had been bad luck and bad timing and, duh, some of Leif’s own fucking fault.
But it was easier for him to blame Tanner than take responsibility for his own mistakes. Or, that’s what Tanner’s mom had said, anyway.
“You’re up next, Clayton. Get your ass out there!” Coach Rasmussen shouted, pulling Tanner from where he’d been lost in his head. He was over the boards before he could really think about it. Before he could even make a choice.
Coach said jump, he jumped.
Tanner and Leif might have a beef, but the Harriers’ assistant coach was solid. Even if he was Leif’s dad.
Shit, I need to be paying more attention, Tanner thought as he hurried to catch up with his D-partner, Luke. His mind did kinda tend to wander.
Tanner couldn’t let the stupid-ass bitchy ice princess distract him even more than he already had.
Tanner managed to focus for the rest of the period, although New York scored twice. Thankfully, neither were Tanner’s fault.
The first was on a power play after Crawford got into it with Mirsad Renner.
But Tanner would swear that after Leif fired the puck into the net over Jesse’s shoulder for the second goal, he turned to look at Tanner on the bench with a smirk.
Tanner chomped at his mouthguard as he went off the ice and swore he’d get him back in the third period.
The Harriers scored right off the faceoff and Tanner was even more annoying than usual in the third period.
Leif shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow Tanner always knew how to take his obnoxiousness to the next level.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be taking his hockey to the next level as well.
Leif hated to admit it but Tanner was playing well tonight.
Apparently, he’d actually been paying attention during the skills camp in Chicago this summer, rather than fucking around. He hadn’t seemed focused at all then, but his skating was faster than ever, his gap control was much tighter, and he always fucking knew where Leif was.
And he was glued to him.
Boston didn’t typically use a man-on-man system but damn if they weren’t doing their best imitation tonight, at least with Tanner on Leif.
They had him fucking shadowing him like they were magnetically connected.
Tanner was up in his business all shift, every shift.
Leif tried to get in close to the net, and Tanner was on him.
Leif got a stick out to try to snag the puck, Tanner’s stick was under his. On top of his. In the fucking way.
Leif had been trying to ignore what Tanner was saying after the dressing-down he’d gotten from his head coach, Brad Pittman, about the shit that had happened at the beginning of the second period.
But fuck was it hard with Tanner buzzing around him like the world’s most annoying mosquito.
And unfortunately, Leif would get sent to the box if he tried to crush him like one.
Still, he didn’t hold back on getting the butt of his stick up into Tanner’s armpit or whacking his shins whenever the opportunity presented itself.
He even somehow got away with a cross-check to Tanner’s back at one point.
How the officials hadn’t seen it, Leif would never know. But it felt good as he skated away to join his teammates on the bench.
“Nice one,” Mirsad Renner said with a nudge of his shoulder. “You show that little asshole who’s boss.”
Leif nodded, even though the words bugged him for some reason.
Maybe because he didn’t think anyone was Tanner’s boss. Definitely not him. And maybe not even Tanner himself. Tanner was more force of nature than anything. A hurricane or a tsunami. A wildfire. Leaving a path of destruction in his wake wherever he went.
With six minutes left to go in the third, Boston scored again, tying the game.
Neither Leif nor Tanner were on the ice but on the next shift out, Leif gritted his teeth and promised himself he’d score again.
There was no way in hell was he was letting Boston win.
“Hey, you have plans after the game, babe?” Tanner asked breathlessly as they fought over the puck.
“What?” Leif grunted.
“Plans. After the game. Do you have them?”
“I have dinner plans.”
“You wanna know why I asked?” Tanner got his shoulder up under Leif’s stick.
“What? No! Don’t give a shit.”
“Because I was thinking you and me could—”
“We’re. Not. Doing. Anything,” Leif said, shoving Tanner against the boards and pinning him in place.
He was hit with a dizzy feeling of being in two places at once.
All he could smell was sweaty uniform funk at the moment but for the briefest second they were back in that alley with Tanner’s scent in his nose and his hand on his dick and …
“You know you want me, Ice Princess. I make you melt,” Tanner shot back, and then he somehow had the fucking puck and …
Leif bellowed with rage and tore after him, but it was too late. Tanner was wheeling around the net and firing the puck to Anker Henriksen.
He tore up the ice with it and snapped it toward New York’s goal.
Thank fuck their goaltender, Roman Poole, swatted the puck out of the air, smothering it so Boston couldn’t get in there and get a goal.
Leif breathed a sigh of relief.
If he’d let Tanner rattle him enough to set up two goals tonight, he’d never forgive himself.
But the score remained tied 2–2 through the end of the third period and the New York bench let out a collective groan as they headed to overtime.
In the locker room during the break, Pittman looked around the room.
“Boston’s tired,” he said, pacing. “They went into OT last night as well. They’re gonna start slowing down.
I want you to keep up the pressure. Run them fucking ragged, antagonize them until they make a stupid, sloppy mistake, and get the puck in the back of their fucking net.
I don’t care how good Webber is, you find an opportunity.
Batter him with pucks until he slips up. ”
So, fueled and hydrated, Leif went out on the ice for overtime.
Pittman’s plan worked too.
Forty seconds in, a cross-check from Luke Crawford on Mirsad Renner sent him to the box.
New York kept up the zone pressure and before Crawford was out of the box, Leif managed to strip the puck from Tanner, race up the ice, and snipe the puck into the top shelf.
As his teammates piled on to celebrate their win, Leif glanced over at Tanner, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.
Allowing himself a moment of pettiness, Leif puckered up and blew him a kiss across the ice.