Chapter Thirty-Five
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No one can tell I’m grinning like a fool behind this helmet. But I totally am.
She’s fucking falling for me.
I’ve worn this smile for four days straight, and it shows no sign of fading. Neither does my performance on the ice this season.
We’re three goals up against the Dallas Destroyers—a team that’s nearly always kicked our asses, especially in away games—but not tonight.
Just like Darcy’s heart, this shutout is going to be mine.
In a rare turnover, the Dallas captain collects the puck at center ice and wastes no time as he comes racing toward me. It’s possible he’ll lay off to his forward and the only other player in a position to support him.
It’s also possible he’ll use him as a decoy.
Memories of the preseason game come crashing back, but so does the advice Jensen has given me since we started working together.
He identified that I was committing a fraction too early, and this was because of my anxiety around rebounds.
Every goalie wants to gain possession, but flying pucks four inches from the ice aren’t that easy to bury, and sometimes, you just have to call the opposition’s bluff.
It was a genius call, and one that’s given me more control over the puck.
Jensen concluded there was nothing wrong with my ability to rebound to the corners; it was all in my head.
Years of psyching myself out. I had made it big in the NHL because of my unmatched puck possession, but everyone knew my weakness revolved around distribution.
And now I’m standing my ground at the crease a split second longer, and I’m psyching out forwards instead.
On this occasion, I don’t need to call on my newfound confidence as Sawyer checks their center before he has a chance to shoot and the buzzer sounds.
Another W.
Sawyer skates across to me as I head toward the benches. The arena noise is muted while home fans leave, feeling underwhelmed by the result.
I grin bigger.
He pulls off his glove and taps the top of my helmet once. “Now, that was a motherfucking performance, buddy.” He shakes his head in awe. “I can’t put my finger on what it was out there, but you just felt more …”
“In control?” a voice calls from behind Sawyer, and he spins to look at Jensen when he approaches us.
Hands in the pockets of his black dress pants, he smiles at us both.
“Seriously, I think my work here is done.” He points to the crease.
“Bryce got a hit on him because their center hesitated. My best guess is, you’ve thrown a lot of teams’ pregame prep for a loop with your performances early season, and the oppositions just don’t know how to handle it. ”
I pull off my helmet—smiling, of course. “I feel different out there. I mean, I’ve always felt composed and like the crease is my home, but something’s definitely changed.”
Jensen pats my shoulder a couple of times.
“I get what you mean, and I can see it in your eyes.” He narrows his at me, but not in a suspicious way; it’s more studious than that.
“You look happy too. Happier than at the beginning of the season. I also know exactly how that feels. I don’t think I played my best hockey until I met my wife.
” He chuckles, hearts in his eyes. “Or at least until she stopped hating me and started looking in my direction.”
I cast a quick glance at Sawyer as he removes his helmet. I can tell he’s wondering what I’ve said to Jensen, but the truth is I’ve kept it strictly professional during practices.
Jensen shrugs, shoving both hands back into his pockets. “It was just a hunch I had. I heard you were dating.”
“Who’s dating?” Jack slides up behind Jensen and Sawyer, hanging both arms around their shoulders.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Sawyer shrugs him off, the action quickly followed by Jensen.
“I swear to God, you’ve got the hearing of an owl or something.”
Jack chews on the corner of his mouthguard. “I do when it comes to matters of the heart. Who’s getting hitched?”
Dropping his head between his shoulders, Jensen shakes it. “Fuck me, you are just like him. I need to get back to Seattle, stat.”
Almost offended, Jack’s irreverent smile falls. “Like who?”
“Who do you think? Your stepdad.”
“You are a bit like me, Jack.” Coach Morgan joins from behind, the usual iPad tucked under his arm. “Take it as the compliment it is.”
He turns to me, his business mask slipping back into place.
“I know this isn’t the best time, and you guys no doubt want to head out and celebrate the win, but some team news has just been confirmed …
” He pauses, looking like it’s anything but good, and I’m guessing it has something to do with our new GM.
“It’s going to break to the press in the morning, and I want you all informed first.”
Sawyer raises an unimpressed brow. “Is this about what I think it is?”
Coach Morgan clears his throat, shifting anxiously. For the first time in four days, my smile falters.
There’s no way this is about me and Darcy. My face is still intact, for one thing, and my assistant captain is smiling.
“Let’s get dressed, satisfy the postgame interviews, and meet in the team briefing room. And, Bryce?”
Sawyer pauses on skating away, waiting for Coach to finish.
“Let the rest of the team know. I’ve got a call with the GM I need to make.”
“Take a seat, gentlemen.” Coach stands at the foot of the briefing table as we all pile in, dressed in postgame suits.
The palpable tension in the locker room in anticipation over whatever team news is about to be delivered is not alleviated by Coach’s tone. If anything, he sounds more pissed than he was on the ice.
“Is everything all right?” Emmett Richards asks as he balances one of his crutches against the table.
After a bad hit that twisted his knee, he was confirmed as being out for the season, and despite our excellent results, there’s no doubt we need another defenseman. Everyone’s best guess has been Noah Statham from Connecticut since he’s been killing the AHL this season.
Now, as I look at Coach’s creased brow and pursed lips, I’m not so sure that’s the case. He likes Statham, and I heard that was who he wanted as Emmett’s replacement. If he’d gotten his way, I’m confident I wouldn’t be looking at a scowl right now.
“All right, as you all know …” Coach begins. “Richards has sustained a season-ending injury, which has thrown the defense into turmoil. After all, he’s a fucking wall.”
Everyone begins laughing at the compliment because it’s true, but Coach doesn’t react, waiting for heads to refocus.
Amusement dies down quickly.
“The GM and I have been in deep discussions over a replacement and where we want to pull resources.” He takes a breath and, fuck, here goes. “There were a couple of options available to us, both internally from the AHL and externally from elsewhere in the league.”
Apart from Coach’s, every single pair of eyes darts around the room, casting glances left and right to see who knows what. I think, at this point, we all definitely know it’s not Statham.
I can tell Coach is fighting with everything he has to maintain a professional demeanor. He doesn’t like this acquisition. And neither will we.
“Aside from the rookies, I know a lot of you have played with him. Let’s just say, his style is memorable. In addition to his last name.”
More heads turn to one another. My permanent smile is well and truly wiped.
“The GM feels we need to replace and intensify our presence in the back lines.” Jon closes his eyes momentarily.
Screw keeping a professional demeanor. This is personally hurting him.
“The trade with Detroit is about to be finalized, and I’m …
well, I’m pleased to announce that Tommy Schneider will be joining the Blades. Effective immediately.”
“Tommy Schneider?” Jack’s voice cuts through the stunned silence. “As in the dickhead who doesn’t actually play hockey?”
Jon side-eyes his stepson, but Jack’s already lost his shit, and I find myself wincing as I witness a prequel to what I can no doubt expect from him when he finds out about Darcy. Only I get the feeling this reaction I’m seeing is just the tip of the iceberg.
“As in Alex Schneider’s estranged son?!” Jack continues. “As in the son of the guy who almost killed former Scorpions legend, Zach Evans, on the ice?”
Coach drops his head to the floor, hands stuffed inside his pockets. “Yes, Jack. As in Tommy Schneider.”
“Yeah, well, he can’t come. Terminate the damn trade!” Jack growls. “We just got this team playing like an actual unit, and now you want to throw an atomic bomb that is the biggest fighter the NHL has ever seen right into the center of our season.”
Coach’s head whips up, eyes narrowing at his assistant captain. He points his finger in the center of his chest. “I expressed my opinion on a number of occasions, but ultimately, the decision sits with the GM. And he’s decided Schneider is what we need.”
He points to Sawyer, and I know what’s coming. Our captain hasn’t hidden his intentions to retire, likely at the end of this season. “We know Bryce’s plans, and we have to move now to strengthen the team.”
He motions to me, and I shrink back in my seat. I want nothing to do with this since I’ll be public enemy number one soon enough. “And we have to protect Moore’s shutout stats. We’re almost two months deep into the season, and he’s smashing it.”
Jack folds his arms across his chest, kicking his feet out under the table.
Coach looks at Sawyer next. “Maybe a few words from the captain?”
I know for a fact that Sawyer couldn’t stand Alex Schneider. Sawyer was with the Blades when Alex was kicked off the team—or more accurately, his contract wasn’t renewed.
The truth is, Tommy Schneider spent the first couple of years of his career wreaking havoc in the AHL before he was pulled into the Detroit side. No one really knows how much he’s capable of since he spends the majority of his time in the penalty box.
Before Sawyer opens his mouth, I already know he’s seething inside.
He likely had a better idea than the rest of us that this was coming, but clearly, he never truly thought it would happen.
This move from the GM is like two fingers to our fans and a step back in time to when the Blades were struggling at the foot of the league.
Clearing his throat, he scratches at his stubble. “I can understand concerns around the trade.”
Jack huffs out a sarcastic breath.
“Hey!” I call across to him with a raised brow. “Cap is speaking. I know this is personal for you—it is for all of us—but let’s keep it professional.”
Pushing a hand through his hair, Jack nods in response. “Yeah, I’m just pissed, is all. Sorry, Cap.”
“No worries,” Sawyer replies. “So, yeah, I know this decision has come way out of left field, and it’s going to leave a sour taste in a lot of people’s mouths.
That said, there’s nothing we can do about it.
The deal is done, and Schneider is joining us.
All we can do is make him feel welcome and keep our focus off team politics and on the ice. ”
When he delivers that final sentence, his gaze tracks to me. Perhaps he sees this trade as small time compared to the bomb I’ll drop.
He’s right.
After Darcy turns twelve weeks, I was thinking the sooner, the better to tell Jack and Coach, but now, with this news and the state of mind both are in, I’m concluding we need to let the dust settle before we tell them.
Jack already looks livid, and I can’t say I blame him. He knows that next season, he’ll replace Sawyer as the C, and that his beef with Kendra’s ex, Tyler Bennett, in his rookie season will have been a side show compared to the chaos Schneider will bring.
People label me as the NHL’s biggest playboy. Well, that’s nothing compared to the bad boy rep our new defenseman carries.