CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The first round of the playoffs passed almost before Tanner could blink.
The Harriers swept Detroit in four games, with Detroit barely putting up a fight, which left the Harriers surprisingly healthy and well-rested when it came time for the second round.
New York, however, was in the fight for their lives.
The Rockets had gone down two games right out of the gate against Washington and Tanner’s heart had hurt every time he talked to Leif.
He seemed exhausted and battered and Tanner desperately wished he was able to see him in person, be there for him in all the ways he couldn’t when they were so far apart.
But the Rockets somehow managed to dig deep in the third game, bouncing back to snag a win. They did the same in game five, lost game six, then battled their way back to win game seven.
It was by the slimmest margin, a flukey goal in double overtime, but they did it.
Which meant that Tanner and Leif would finally be going up against each other in the second round.
Unfortunately, the Rocket’s asshole coach ruined any chance of Leif and Tanner spending time together during it. He’d given the Rockets a curfew and was even having the team stay in a Manhattan hotel during the home games.
“I hate him,” Tanner said flatly. “You can’t fucking make a team come together that way. Forced team bonding is bullshit.”
“It is,” Leif agreed with a sigh. “Let’s be honest, we don’t have a bonded locker room and a couple of movie nights at a hotel isn’t going to do it.”
“But I’ll see you on the ice,” Tanner said hopefully.
“Yeah.” Leif smiled. “I’ll see you on the ice.”
Leif wasn’t shocked when they lost the first two games against the Harriers. Boston had home ice advantage, and the Harriers were rested whereas the Rockets were already feeling the strain.
Several guys were out with injuries, the locker room felt tense as hell, and Nicky seemed to be doing his best to hold it all together.
But when the team lost in the third game to the Harriers at home in New York, that was when Leif really started to worry.
The mood was tight in the locker room for game four.
Leif could almost taste the tension in the air as he laced his skates before warmups and he had to close his eyes and do his deep breathing during the singing of the national anthem.
On the ice for the first period, he played with the kind of desperation he’d never felt before and on his second shift out there, he scored a goal.
The Harriers retaliated almost immediately after on a breakaway from Graham Pennington.
In the second period, Nicky scored for the Rockets, and despite their defensive flaws, Roman Poole kept the Harriers from scoring.
Nicky looked like a man ready to go to war in the third period, and seven minutes in, Mirsad Renner drew a penalty, giving them the man advantage.
Leif had been the trigger man on the power play for most of the season, but they’d decided to switch it up tonight to one of the alternate plays that they’d practiced, with Nicky in that spot.
It worked too, because Leif passed to Nicky and Ian managed to screen Jesse Webber so Nicky could fire in a shot that he never saw coming.
The Harriers retaliated with a goal from Tanner, but Poole stood on his head for the rest of the period, and his diving save in the final seconds of the period kept the Harriers from tying it up and dragging it to overtime.
The sound of the game horn was sweet and the mood was jubilant in the Rockets’ locker room after. Nicky was beaming so wide, Leif though his face might crack in two.
“We’re still fucking in it, boys!” he shouted.
A whoop went up around the room and Nicky threw his arms around Leif and Ian, and Leif laughed and hugged him back. Fuck, he could barely believe they’d managed it.
“Did you hear how loud the building was tonight?” Nicky said, still beaming. “We have the best fans. God, I’ve fucking missed playoff hockey!”
Leif felt a surge of joy go through him but as he pulled away, he saw the little clumps of guys talking, Renner and Palmer eyeing him and Ian and Nicky suspiciously like they were going to start making out in the locker room or something.
Leif’s mood fell a little. He would have snorted at the idea—he had no desire to kiss anyone in this locker room, thank you, but that distrust, that disgust, from someone who was supposed to be his own teammate stung.
And Leif felt a sliver of anxiety as he thought about the way the groups never really came together. He wondered if this win would be enough to pull them from their cliques into a true team, but how?
And as Leif watched Poole limping toward the training rooms, a grimace on his face, he felt that anxiety grow.
They were all banged up, but their goalie was feeling it the most. He’d been playing lights out all season but with the gaping holes in their defense, would it be enough?
Leif took a seat, put his head down, and breathed.
Tanner had the tunes pumping in the locker room before game five against the Rockets and he grinned at the sight of Jesse and Kady dancing in their stalls, already dressed in their skates, pants and bulky pads on the bottom and just a base layer on top.
Connor flashed a smile Jesse’s way and Jesse blew him a kiss across the locker room. Tanner caught a glimpse of Tom smiling at their interaction and Mickey and Rafe were talking quietly and intently off to one side.
Sure, they’d lost game four after an unexpected rally by the Rockets but that was a good thing, right? It was more fun to play against a team who was fighting for it.
Yeah, that sweep in the first round had been nice. It had given the Harriers some rest, but it was more fun to compete. To feel like they’d really earned it, instead of just going up against a team too banged-up and too outclassed to put up a fight.
Besides, as frustrating as he was on the ice, watching Leif play was something Tanner could never get enough of. He was so fucking gorgeous out there, lean and quick, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the play.
His hockey made Tanner hot and the win they’d gotten had fired Leif up too.
They’d both been too gassed to do anything after the game two nights ago, but the second they’d gotten on video chat last night Leif had been pushy and demanding.
Tanner had sighed happily and let Leif tell him what to do as he fucked his hole with a toy.
Winning Leif was horny Leif and Tanner would always support that.
He laughed to himself. Well, up to a point. There was no way in fuck he was letting the Rockets beat them tonight.
When the guys were dressed and ready to head out onto the ice for warmups, Tanner turned and faced the room.
“Who’s the hottest team in the league?” Tanner shouted over the music.
“We are!” Guys chorused back.
“Who’s going to kick some Rocket ass tonight?” he fired back.
“We are!”
“Let’s do this thaaaaaaaaaaang,” Tanner bellowed.
He turned to Crawford and they did their usual handshake that always ended with simultaneous punches to the chest.
Luke looked feral already, his smile promising all sorts of nasty things for the Rockets, and Tanner silently prayed that he didn’t, like … totally destroy his boyfriend or anything.
He kinda needed him in one piece after this was all over.
A few minutes later, as Tanner burst out of the tunnel and onto the ice behind Jesse, he whooped, grinning manically at the cheers from the crowd. He fucked loved Harriers fans.
The whole game it felt like there were sparks in his veins, pushing him forward, making him play even harder.
He got an assist in the first period when he fed the puck to Anker, who tucked it neatly behind Roman Poole.
“I fucking told you he was favoring his left side,” Tanner shouted to Anker after.
“Good catch!” Anker said, bonking him on the helmet, and Tanner beamed.
He’d noticed it in the previous game. He wasn’t sure if it was that Poole was just old or if he was hurt but his reaction times when he was pushing left to right were slower.
Tanner might be shit at a lot of things, but reading a goalie? Yeah, he was fucking good at that.
By the end of the second period, the Harriers were up 2-1 and although it was nowhere near a comfortable lead, the vibes were good as the team filtered off the ice.
Leif wished his team had managed to even the score up before the end of the second period, but Nicky seemed determined to remain optimistic that they could do it.
He stood by the door to the tunnel, tapping guys on the back as they left the ice and saying things like, “Poole, great save there against Pennington. Good job against the boards, Renner, keep it up. Rasmussen, great chances there at the end, keep going, the puck’ll go in soon.”
It better fucking go in, Leif thought, because if this shitty puck luck continued, he was going to fucking lose it. But he nodded and tried to let Nicky’s positivity flow through him.
Tanner had been a fucking menace all night too, driving Leif absolutely up the wall. He’d been disrupting Leif’s shooting lanes and trying to draw a penalty every chance he had.
He wasn’t quite as mouthy as usual, but probably only because the pace of playoff games was too fast. He needed that oxygen to keep going more than he needed to shoot off his mouth.
Though, being Tanner, he still managed more of it than most.
He was annoying and persistent and as Leif hydrated during the intermission, he couldn’t help but wonder what the Rockets would look like with Tanner on it. He felt a bubble of excitement that he quickly squashed down.
No, Tanner was a Harrier now and Leif had to remember that. Anything that happened in the offseason was irrelevant. They had to get there first.
And as badly as Leif wanted to see Tanner in person, to touch him, to hold him, to smell his skin and call out his name with a broken moan, he was desperate for this run the Rockets were on to last as long as it could.
Were they Cup contenders? Probably not. This wasn’t going to be a magical run to the finish line, or even a scrappy team battling their way there but they would fight until the end.