Chapter 18
18
DUNCAN
F or Miranda. Two words played over and over in my mind. Every time my skates glided over the ice and an opponent came my way, I concentrated on what Miranda would tell me to do. Her voice rode around in my head like an angel of mercy. We’d started off rough, but Austin’s pep talk worked heaps better than I’d expected. Patrick nailed shot after shot, proving he’d not lost his game over the years. I checked another opponent, bumping him into the wall and holding him there so Charlie had room to skate past.
Hands flailed and his leg came around to lock with mine. The move spun us around so my back slammed into the partition keeping us from tumbling into the spectators’ laps. I bared my teeth and shoved him off. “Not today, asshole.”
He matched my snarl and shoved me again. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it? Who’s going to care if I stomp your face into the ice, huh? No one cares about a two-bit player from Ireland.”
Austin, Charlie, and Patrick clumped up together, forming a V that tore across the ice. Austin smacked the puck. The opposing goalie dove, missed, and the scoreboard blinked our new number. I smirked at the guy trying to rattle me. “Looks like we’re going to win.”
He jerked a look over his shoulder. I used his momentum and pushed. Arms windmilled and the fucker crashed onto the ice flat of his back.
The ref’s whistle blew. “Unnecessary force.” He waved one hand overhead and pointed at me. “Last warning.”
“Last?” I sneered at him. “When was the first?”
“You want another one?” He motioned at the stands. “I can get you off the ice faster than you can blink. Now skate it off.”
Great. So I had a ref out to get me. Excellent news. I tightened my grip on my hockey stick and spun away.
Coach held up two fingers in my direction, offering his own warning to cool it.
“One more period to go. For Miranda.” The constant mantra worked better than anything else I’d tried.
The same prick who egged me on came after me again. Austin blocked him, but he kept coming.
Fuck this shit. I took the hit on the shoulder, ducked, and picked the motherfucker up across my back and flipped him onto the ice. Patrick might’ve perfected the slapshot, but I had my own arsenal of perfection. The impact pushed the breath from his lungs with an oof. He grabbed his chest and rolled side to side.
Smirking, I skated away as the whistle blew and the ref tagged me into the penalty box.
“It was worth it.” I shouted to the crowd, and they roared back. Maybe they hadn’t heard what the guy said, but they’d seen my violence often enough to expect more than this, especially by the last quarter.
Austin skated past, disappointment etching deep lines in his face beneath the helmet. He tapped the glass in passing to let me know he understood.
I’d grown accustomed to spending time in the penalty box. It gave me a chance to watch my team and learn more about them, but I’d been trying to do better and not unleash the anger. With nothing better to do, I shouted taunts at my opponent every time he skated past. It rattled him enough that he missed a catch that Austin stole and passed to Charlie. They worked in seamless beauty, passing the puck around to Patrick and protecting him as he took aim. I’d been impressed from the first day I skated with them, but watching them in full action, with our entire season on the line, reminded me why I’d agreed to join the team. Their skill helped hide the flaws that came with my age. My career on the ice wouldn’t last much longer, but I was determined to go down fighting.
The scoreboard counted down the time. I checked the timer on the penalty box. I’d have seconds on the ice once released from the box. Seconds to help my team make one more shot. If they could keep the other team from scoring, we might make it. Years of blood, sweat, and tears had gone into this game I loved.
The crowd chanted the countdown for me. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
A buzz and I flew onto the ice like the devil himself rode my back. Austin saw me coming. Both damned teams saw me coming. The guy I’d been after came at me. Patrick took him down.
Another opponent went after Austin. With Patrick occupied, he twitched his chin toward the goal and whacked the puck in my direction. I caught it on the edge of my stick and skated for all I was worth. My breaths came short and quick, the adrenaline kicking into overdrive. Voices roared all around me, shouts to make the point, shouts warning me I had someone on my heels. I barrelled ahead, trusting my team to watch my back. Charlie appeared in my peripheral vision, a roll of his head telling me it was all on me. Tied game. Final shot. I checked the scoreboard. Five seconds left. It was enough. It had to be. Go. Go. Faster. My skates flew, my body taking over and pushing out any doubt or fear that I might miss. Three seconds. Two. I launched the puck. It smacked the back of the net as the buzzer pealed out.
Teammates surrounded me, their shouts louder than the crowd stamping and roaring their approval. Relief rushed through me with dizzying speed. I’d done it. The scoreboard clicked our final points into view, making the win official.
Movement across the ice caught my attention when Charlie and Patrick squeezed in front of Austin and grabbed me by the shoulders. The guy I’d fought with tapped a finger to his helmet in a salute. Any other time, I’d have taken offense, or found offense in the gesture. Not anymore. I grinned and ripped off my helmet, throwing it toward the bench and clapping my teammates on the back.
“Nice shot.” Patrick gripped the back of my neck and shook me. “Knew you had it in you.”
“Fucking aces, man.” Murphy held up a gloved fist for a bump that I matched.
My grin stretched so wide I wondered if it would split my face in two. “Nothing to it.”
“Just needed a little motivation.” Scott joined in with a laugh and a slap on the back.
The entire team surrounded me with praise and friendly jostling. I’d become used to being the outsider, the one people avoided until they needed me to get someone off the ice. This brotherly praise and camaraderie loosened the knots in my stomach until I felt loose and carefree with my smile.
Austin led the charge off the ice. We all fell into a huddled mass of bent shoulders and wide smiles. People closed in from overhead, stretching out their arms to try and reach of across the concrete wall as we made our way down into the hallway leading to the locker room. “You’re up for the interview?”
I shucked my gear piece by piece and set it aside for later. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I’d agreed to be the spokesperson behind the mic at our first post-game interview of the season. Making the winning shot increased the need for me to be on my best behavior. I worked through what Miranda taught me as I showered and changed into jeans, and a loose, long-sleeve green Henley that Miranda had recommended because it made me more approachable. Once I’d tied my shoes and stood, Austin directed me to the door. “You go in first. We’ll come in behind you.”
I resisted the urge to tell him I knew how an interview worked and pasted on my Miranda-approved interview smile instead. A twist of the door handle, and lights exploded in my vision. I’d expected the cameras but the flashes still came as a surprise. The grin stayed firmly in place on my way to the long stretch of tables. I took the middle seat and tugged the chair out. “It’s nice to see all of you again.”
Quick chuckles darted around the room.
Coach worked as our moderator, and when he stepped out onto the stage, hands lifted all across the room. He pointed at a woman in a black suit with a press badge for Hockey Wide, a sports magazine I’d tangled with before. “Duncan, we’re all curious to know what was said out there on the ice today? You came out a little weak in the beginning, but slayed at the end. What brought that on?”
I laced my hands together on the table and leaned into the microphone. “You’ve all heard Austin speak before. He gave us a pep talk and we took it to heart.”
She tapped on her phone, no doubt taking notes. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, a sure sign that I’d not given her the answer she expected.
“You.” Coach pointed out a man near the front who smirked as he stood.
I knew him too, and my leg began to bounce beneath the table. I stopped it before anyone noticed and concentrated on breathing like Miranda had taught me. No angry reactions. They were unnecessary and made things worse. I brought up a memory of the day I’d spent at Discovery Park with her and the kids.
“Duncan.” The reporter said my name in two short barks of sound that grated on my nerves. “You’ve often been called the Devil of the ice. How do you feel about that moniker?”
“I think it was earned a few times, glorified a few more, and vilified often enough that I started to believe it myself.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess we’re all villains in some people’s stories. I’ve been told people love to root for the morally gray character.”
Multiple women around the room laughed. “Are you saying you’ve lost your moral compass?” Another voice piped in before Coach stepped in.
He waved off the question. “You know the rules.”
I considered answering it anyway, but I’d learned that led to a free for all of insinuations and more bothersome questions.
“You.” Coach waved a hand at a blonde standing near the back of the room.
“What would you consider the highlight of the game?” She had a rich voice, but I caught the underlying hopefulness that I’d come off with some cocky answer that further incriminated me.
How had I missed all this before? I released my grip on my fingers and reached out to either side of me, clapping Austin and Patrick on the backs. “Being part of this team. Seeing us come together and work as a unit.” It was a pat answer, and one none of them expected from the old, volatile Duncan.
Miranda had coached me well. For the first time in my career, I made it through the process without losing my cool.
“One last question.” Coach shifted his weight forward and peered over the crowd. “You, in the red.”
A guy wearing a red tie and badge cleared his throat. “It’s come to our attention that you’re not in peak physical performance. Can you shed some light on that?”
“I’m in the best shape.” I flexed my arms so the muscles bulged. “What’s that one shape called, Austin? A polygon? I have multiple sides.”
The laughter I’d garnered earlier built and rolled throughout the room.
I stood alongside Austin and the others. “Good talking to all of you. Go be good humans. Don’t be square.” I raised my hand in a peace symbol and turned my back to the room.
“Nicely done.” Coach closed in behind me, the rest of the team creating a circle with me in the middle. “You’re the star of the show.”
For now. I didn’t let it bother me that my popularity would likely fade with time. I enjoyed the moment, the success brought on by the game and Miranda’s coaching.