Chapter 9
EVAN
It might not have been as obvious to everyone else as it was to me, but I could tell Perry was fading.
He didn’t love people, so tournaments were a little slice of hell for him.
I did my best to stay close whenever I could and to touch him, if possible.
Skin to skin was best for him so I held his hand whenever it was appropriate.
I could feel Channing watching us as we got ready to play them. His interest in my boyfriend was annoying but given my own history, and the fact I was always willing to be shared, I didn’t think it was my place to say anything.
He could be as curious as he wanted. Perry was my guy, so I wasn’t worried anything would happen without a conversation. The middle of a tournament against my idol was no time to worry about it, either.
When one of the Darren twins made a snide remark about me and Perry—I didn’t know which one it was because I hadn’t figured out how to tell them apart—I managed to bite my tongue. We hadn’t even thrown the first stone of the game, so I was a bit worried I might be bleeding by the end of it.
The second time it happened, I turned to say something to him, but a hand landed heavy on my shoulder.
“Let me deal with it,” a low voice rumbled, and I looked over my shoulder to see Channing there glowering at his own teammate. I noticed Perry, also glowering, his gaze fixed on Channing’s hand, still on my shoulder.
“Fine,” I said, turning slightly so he had to let go of me. “But if he mouths off to Perry—”
“He won’t.”
I wasn’t going to hold him to that. It seemed the Darren twins had miles of attitude and for whatever reason, they had decided they didn’t like our team.
Channing asked the ump for a five-minute delay, which was granted, and he pulled the offending twin off the ice.
Four minutes later, he returned without the twin, another man in tow.
“What the hell is going on?” Perry asked.
“Whichever twin that was said some unkind things,” I explained. “Channing overheard and pulled him aside. That’s all I know.”
And it was all I had time to explain because the ump was calling us over.
“There has been a last-minute substitution due to illness,” the ump informed us. “Jason Darren has left the tournament and the venue. He will be replaced by the team’s alternate, Michael Denning.”
Jason’s brother made a noise and Channing turned to him. “You can play if you keep your mouth shut,” he said, voice flat. “Otherwise I’ll pull you too, and we’ll play with three.” He arched an eyebrow at the ump, who shrugged.
“Your call,” the ump said. “But I won’t hesitate to pull him myself, if he breaches etiquette one more time. Your team already has a verbal warning. I’d hate to force a game concession due to breach of sportsmanship, but I will.”
“Understood,” Channing said, glaring at Cameron Darren.
Cameron shrugged, but also gave the slightest of nods.
“Very well. Shall we get this game started?” the ump asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Channing turned to go but I stopped him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said to Channing as everyone dispersed. “We’re big boys. We don’t care what he thinks of us.”
“While I appreciate you saying you would put up with him, there is no reason for it. If he can’t observe the spirit of the sport here, he doesn’t have to play.
If he thinks I’ll let him get away with it because he can deliver a stone down the ice, he can think again.
” Channing smiled at me, and I about swallowed my tongue.
“He can grow up, or he can find another team.”
Behind us, Cameron snorted.
“Something funny?” Channing asked over his shoulder.
“You can’t play three in the Olympics,” Cameron snapped.
“Watch me.”
“There are rules.”
Channing’s stunning smile turned sharp and dangerous, which only made him more appealing. “Who says you and your brother have to be on the team? I’m sure I can find other curlers with not just the skills needed, but the attitude as well.”
“Like you would actually fire us.”
Channing turned fully to face him, seeming to gain an inch or two in height as he glared and said, too quiet for the ump to hear, “Fuck around and find out, Darren. But you know there’s only one loser here.”
I thought maybe Cameron Darren’s face turned a bit green around the edges. He backed off and went to stand by himself, out of the way, since we had first rock.
I returned to Perry’s side and took his hand.
“What was that all about?” he whispered as Darby chose a stone and waited for the ump to start the game.
“Tell you after. You have to get down there.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You got this,” I assured him.
He looked a little pale but nodded and slid off down the ice to the other end to give Darby something to aim at.
The first two ends of the game went smoothly, both ending in a blank, which was encouraging because this was an Olympic team we were playing after all. If we could play them to a blank end when they had the hammer, then that was something, right?
Of course, as soon as I thought that, they had a four point end.
Less encouraging, though we managed to fight back, was earning two points the next end, giving them the hammer, which got them another point, but then we stole two points in the sixth end.
I wish I could say that was all us, but some of it was no doubt Cameron losing focus when the young team came to sit and watch the game.
The seventh end, we managed to steal another point, tying the game.
We forced them to take a point with their hammer in the eighth end, which favour they returned in the ninth, but that left them with the hammer and, again, a tied game. Not ideal.
“Nothing like the tenth end being like we never played at all,” Robbie grumbled, staring at the board and the equal score there.
“Well,” Perry pointed out, “thankfully, we’re up against the clock, so all we have to do is keep them off the board. Even a draw would be better than a loss, and there won’t be time to play any extra ends.”
I grinned at him. “We could actually beat the Olympic team,” I said.
“Let’s just play the end.” He looked tired, and I squinted at him.
“You okay?”
“Counting on you guys,” he said. “I’m not seeing things too clearly. Not like usual.”
“Too much pressure,” I thought out loud.
“Maybe. Too many people?” He glanced around the rink. Most of the other teams were finished their games and sat watching ours.
I didn’t blame them. I would be watching too. This was probably going to be the Olympic team, after all. Just watching was a masterclass in curling, never mind actually playing them.
“Come on.” I draped an arm over his shoulder. “We got this.”
“I appreciate that.” He motioned Darby over. “You know what to do.”
He nodded. “No worries, Skip. Just give me a target.”
I was so glad Darby had turned out to be so very different from his cousin, who was a neurotic, insecure mess.
Darby, thankfully, was as unflappable as Shaw.
As lead rock, he set the tone for the rest of the end and having a guy there who could reliably place his stone wherever the fuck he wanted was a boon to the whole team.
True to form, he left both his guards right on the centre line.
I did my part, dropping lures behind his guards. Either Channing’s team would try to knock my stones out of scoring position, or they’d try to freeze to them, pushing them to the back of the house and leaving themselves in scoring position.
Whichever they chose, Robbie would take advantage of their positioning in the same way or clear the house.
Turned out, clearing the house with his first stone was his only option.
Predictably, Channing had Renard deliver his stone to the wing of the eight foot ring. Surprisingly, he left it just enough forward that if Robbie made the right weight, he could roll Renard’s rock out and leave his inside the rings.
“No pressure,” Perry muttered.
I patted his shoulder. “None,” I assured him. “We held our own so afar.”
“I can’t see the right line,” Perry whispered, just for me to hear. A thin sheen of sweat coated his upper lip. “What do I do?”
“You breathe,” I told him, moving to stand in front of him.
“I’ve been breathing. Nothing is working. I don’t know what to tell Robbie.”
“Babe. Even I know what to tell Robbie. Hit and peel. They’ll have to answer if he leaves his rock in the rings. As long as they have to answer, there’s a chance they fuck up.”
“I hate winning because they lost.”
“They have the hammer, so we have to keep them on the back foot. It’s all we can do.”
He nodded, because he knew I was right. He might have been doing this a lot longer than I had been, but strategy was my long suit. That, and I could sweep for days.
“What if I give him the wrong angle?”
I leaned in and planted a fast, light kiss on his forehead. “You won’t.”
“But I can’t—”
“You don’t need magic invisible lines. You have experience.”
He nodded. “Okay.” Heaving out a breath, he nodded again. “Get back down there. This took too long as it is.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. We were getting dangerously close to running out of game clock and forfeiting for a stupid reason, so I hoofed it back to Robbie and told him to do the math.
He knew what I meant. If he thought Perry’s angles were off, double check.
Perry’s angles were not off, and Robbie’s shot was about as perfect as it could get, knocking Renard’s rock out of play and leaving his sitting close enough to the button to shut down the kind of wing shots that might win Channing the game.
It wasn’t very surprising that instead of knocking Robbie’ rock out, Renard threw up a guard. It would make it harder for Channing to curl around to move Robbie’s rock, but that was a shot Channing was innately good at. That guard would also be in Perry’s way.
I saw the panic on Perry’s face the moment he realized what Channing was doing. This had turned from a team game testing the abilities of the team and the leadership of the Skips into a shot-for-shot match between Channing and Perry.
Personally, I thought it was a pretty even match. Sure, Channing was good at the type of shot he’d set for himself, but Perry was an expert at angles, however he did it, to guide the rest of us in our shots, and he also intuitively knew how to read the ice for curl and weight for his own shots.
He wasn’t our Skip just for shits and giggles.
Still, when he met my eye, his own wide and too bright, I hurried over.
“What am I going to do?”
“Shoot your stone,” I replied. knowing it sounded glib, but honestly, it was down to that now. All he had to do was deliver his rocks the best he could. No one else was relying on him to do anything.
“But I can’t see—”
“Babe, you don’t have to. Trust Robbie. He’s your Vice for a reason, yeah?
Guy might be the most awkward, lanky asshole around but he’s got a brain the size of a planet.
Let him do the heavy thinking, you do what he tells you to.
We got about three minutes left on our game clock, so we don’t have a lot of time.
” I leaned in, but instead of kissing his forehead like I normally did, I laid a wet one right on his mouth.
“Ev—” He sputtered and backed up.
“This ain’t the Olympics, babe,” I teased. “This is our house, and you know this ice. Do your worst.” I winked at him and started sliding backwards towards my spot.
It took him another minute to get his head around letting Robbie guide his shot, but finally, he settled in the hack, accepted the guidance, and made the delivery.
His first stone was an absolutely perfect set in the four foot ring that Channing would have to knock out, probably rolling his own stone out too, or sit behind, making it harder to place a second point with his hammer.
He chose trying freeze to our stone, which would make an easy point for him later if Perry didn’t play this exactly right, ideally placing two stones closer to the button than theirs, which would force Channing to try a double takeout, or to thread through all three stones to get closer.
Perry’s last stone stopped just past the button, still closer than Channing’s, but behind both previous stones.
Channing’s only move, at that point, was to clear the house, if he could, because the chances of him getting both our stones out, but leaving one of his was a Hail Mary shot.
He could try it, and maybe, if we weren’t against the clock, he wouldn’t have attempted the point, but instead, cleared the house and forced another end.
I’m not sure what my own choice would have been under the circumstances, and I wasn’t sure how confident Channing was in his abilities to make the harder but potentially more rewarding shot. He chose to throw heavy and clear everything out of the rings. Including his own hammer stone.
After, when all the points of the day were added up and they came out on top, beating us by literally two points, I got it.
A draw would give them the overall better score and guarantee them top seat with points.
Certainly, a win would have blown us out of the water, but a loss would have been an equal blow out in the other direction.
None of the other teams were close enough to be a threat to Sunday’s gold medal match between us and them, but not being in the top seat because he’d made a vanity shot might not have sat well with his teammates.
“We did good,” I said as I looked at the points for the final game. Although it was a draw as far as the score was concerned, because we’d accumulated ours in more ends, our final point count was higher.
Perry grinned at me. “Technically, we beat the Olympic hopefuls.”
“Literally technically,” Robbie agreed.
“Go us,” Darby said, looking about as optimistic as a puppy to be included.
I hugged him, because hell yes, he was included.
Channing approached, a hand out to Perry. “Excellent game.”
“You as well.”
“Seems you guys owe us some drinks,” Channing said.
“Hell yeah, we do,” I agreed. “Let’s go!”