Chapter 29
Twenty Nine
Eloise
The ice is smooth against my skates as we glide off in our season opener against the Salt Lake City Sparks. They’re playing well for a brand new team, and they’re in front of their home crowd. We’re down by two going into the third, and everything is riding on us getting our shit together.
All of us, not just Taylor and I. We’ve been playing as well as we can, but there’s only so much we can do as a defence duo.
Lawson and Ross have been scratching their heads at Sparks’ offensive power.
It shouldn’t be this good, but somehow, it is.
The crowd is raucous, ready to celebrate the first win in the franchise’s history, but I think we can turn it around.
I know we can.
I nudge Taylor as we sit beside each other. She passes me half a banana, which I gratefully take. Just another twenty minutes in the game. The locker room is quiet, with gentle whispers as we gather our breaths and fortify ourselves for the uphill battle we’re about to engage in.
Taylor’s leaning on me, eyes closed just for a moment.
She’s not sleeping, just trying to focus on what she needs to do.
She’s picturing the movements on the ice, the way the Sparks are working hard to cut off our passing and how they’re sniping us every chance they can get.
They’re not a physically heavy team, but instead full of sprinters and precise shots, three of which have slipped past Winnie.
Winnie looks almost murderous. She’s going to be kicking herself for letting in those three goals, despite it also being the defence’s fault.
Luckily, it was never on our line, but the two younger lines, both great in their own ways, but still growing in the game, flubbed a few passes that the Sparks took us up on pretty quickly.
“Any suggestions?” Lawson calls out from the centre of the room.
It’s something I’ve come to enjoy about Lawson’s coaching style. He offers up the ability to speak our minds, to point out things that we’ve noticed.
“They’re always going up the left,” Brynn says.
“They’re fast. We need to intercept the puck in their passes rather than trying to match them for speed right now,” Taylor says.
“Lefties should be staying with the player flying up the boards while the centre and right need to hustle back as fast as possible. Defenders should be closer to the face off dots than the blue line to give us a bit more security.”
“They’re fast, but we can check them,” I say, “They may not be hitting comfortably yet, and that could be an advantage.”
Lawson nods. “Good. We’re down two, and you know what they say. That two goal lead is the most dangerous in hockey.”
We nod, rumbles of memories when we’ve all individually lost a two goal lead.
The Vortex as a team just this past year in the playoffs against the Portland Torches.
I watched their final game from my couch—the Chill had been knocked out pretty quickly after a few bad losses in the final stretch of our season.
Their final was a rough one to watch.
“I’m not going to point out who I want to get the game winning goals, but we need three to start the season on the right foot and show these Sparks that we’re something to be worried about.” He continues, “So what do you say? Are we going to put these sparks on a spin cycle?”
The energy is pumped back into the room with his speech, electrifying each player. You can almost see the way everyone starts to sit a little straighter and their hands shake to get their sticks on the puck. We all want this.
We win as a team and we lose as a team.
The start of the third is rough. We’re taking the fight to them with renewed vigour. Our lines are hitting hard and fast. Where we lose them in the straights, we’re making up for it in the intricate battles against the boards.
By intricate, I mean we’re pummelling into them, and it’s comforting to see how many of our team like it.
Maybe also concerning, but right now, it’s perfect.
We’re keeping them in their end pretty comfortably, to the point that Taylor and I, when we’re on the ice, can get a bit closer to the blue line than before.
One of their forwards, an old player from Toronto whose name I can’t remember, is floating near us.
She keeps tapping my stick and then skates over to Taylor, who pushes her off.
She’s a nuisance, and I pray that Taylor can keep her head down for right now. We can’t have her in the penalty box. Playing a woman down would kill our momentum.
Luckily, we don’t have to worry about it, because as the puck slides to us, the player trips over her own skates and lands perfectly in Taylor’s stick.
She slaps it, her whole body twisting into a slapshot making machine before she forces the puck through a throng of bodies and into the back of the next.
The silence of the audience jolts us to action, and she jumps into my arms, both of us cheering before she goes and high-fives the rest of the team on the bench.
We’re taken off for the second line, and Taylor’s getting little helmet taps by everyone. They’re jolting her, shaking her shoulders in excitement, and we watch as the second line keeps up the unrelenting pressure.
This is perfect; it’s exactly what we’re supposed to be doing as a team. It’s what we talked about, and I can see Lawson beaming underneath his moustache.
He catches my gaze, and with a twinkle in his own, he nods before focusing back on the game.
As the second and third lines shift, there’s a little scare where the forward gets a breakaway, but she’s shut down by Winnie, who looks intimidating in her helmet. She somehow makes pink look terrifying.
I’m so glad I’m not playing against her anymore.
The puck’s passed from Winnie to Rory, and it’s like magic as she pushes through the team, going one v one against the goalie. The Sparks were in the middle of a shift change and now their lines are all mixed up trying to get to her.
It’s too late.
She wraps around, startling the goalie and tucking into the left corner before her skate can block it.
The bench jumps up, half of us already standing as we try to get a good look at the motion she just put into play.
The first line is tapped in again for the face off, and has Taylor and me skating on with Lily, Brynn, and Rhea.
We’re setting up, and looking at the clock, I realize we’ve got about three minutes before we push this into overtime.
That’s sudden death, and the Sparks will still get a point instead of us getting a full three.
We don’t want that.
I lock eyes with the girl across the dot, and she looks just as determined.
It’s such a shame for them that we want it more.
The puck drops, and it’s a clash of sticks and the crack of the puck landing in the cradle of Rhea’s stick.
She pushes forward, but there’s a block, so she passes it over to Lily, who has it for a second before it’s stripped from her.
Brynn’s in the path of the other player, who’s trying to figure out the best way to get the puck near the blue line again.
Taylor and I are just hovering over the line in case it comes back near us, but when it’s passed up to me, I push it forward to Brynn.
She grabs it, tries to pass to Rhea, but passes back to me.
I’m juggling it among the three of them as the seconds are ticking down. Sweat pours down my temples when I hear the fans start to count down.
They want overtime.
The Sparks want overtime.
We want a win.
I make a split second decision to shoot, praying to any of the hockey gods to guide the puck in as the crowd counts down from five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
We’re screaming in the locker room, elation rolling through us.
My heart is thundering as I let the emotions wash over me.
We won!
Game one is ours.
Only thirty-eight more games to go.
We’ll play them at least two more times this season, but this puts us on the front foot. Taylor finds me, leaning up to kiss me. She’s still a few inches shorter, even with skates on, and every fibre of my being is on fire. This is the type of kiss that is hungry, desperate for more.
Telling me that we’re not going anywhere.
We’re jostled as more of the team streams in, cheering and screaming. We break up the kiss, and Taylor looks frenzied, eyes wide, cheeks red as she jumps up and down. She’s lucky if she doesn't break an ankle before I force her to go take her skates off.
The energy is still high, but we’re slowly starting to settle down when Brynn brings out a tiny cowboy hat that has a giant star saying “Rootinest Tootinest ‘Tex.” It’s a hideous shade of pink, so garish it’s comical, and Brynn clears her throat, raising it above her head.
“Ladies! We have the pleasure of naming our Tex-iest Vortex of the game. The one who put her body on the line, the one who told us to hammer them and who knocked a few Sparks’ lights out!
The one who lit up the lamp in the final seconds,“ she shouts.
The team screams in response, and something warm fills my stomach.
Something that tells me I picked well.
That this is my team.
It’s like Taylor said—this is our family.
“Eloise Harper, will you do us the honour of accepting the hat of Tex-iest Vortex?” She holds it out to me, and I drop to a knee, bending my head as she places it upon the rats nest that is my sweat-soaked wet hair.
“I accept the role of Tex-iest Vortex!” I say, standing up. “But know this, we’re not done tonight! We’re going to kick ass right to the Walter!” I shout.
“But before then,” I start as the team settles down. “Team drinks before lights out!”
Taylor brushes her blond hair out of her eyes, and the twinkle of pride in the green tells me everything I need to know.
I’m here to stay.