CHAPTER FORTY-ONE KAI
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
KAI
The hobby room is cold tonight. I’ve been working on the same LEGO set for two weeks, but I only manage to add three new pieces. The rest of the time, I’m burning for Oskar.
Nine days since we’ve touched. Nine days since his smile warmed me all over. Nine days of texts and phone calls. I’ve watched him from the other end of the ice, trying to guess his feelings. Needing him to be okay, and yet wanting to win this series as much as I’ve ever wanted anything.
While I’m staring at the LEGO, trying to decide where to fit in a fourth piece, the front door clicks open. Ozzy has his own key now. When I jump up and run, the piece clatters to the floor.
The sight of him stops me. For days, I’ve only seen him in goalie gear or wearing a hoodie during video calls. My voice fails me, so I rush over and grab him. He wraps his arms around me as our mouths crash together.
The time apart dissolves in an instant. His lips are firm and demanding, his hand sliding into my hair as he tilts my head back. For a moment, nothing else matters.
“Ozzy,” I whisper when we break the kiss. “God, how I’ve missed you.”
I pull back enough to see his face. There are new lines around his eyes and dark circles underneath.
Playing the Condors did that, and we’re about to make it worse. Yet I still want to win.
“You feel good,” he says, showing me the beautiful smile I’ve been longing for. “It’s been so long.”
I take his hand and lead him to the living room couch. We sit close, staring at each other.
After a while, he says, “You look tired, baby. Are you getting enough rest?”
“As much as I can. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting this is.”
“No.”
One Fury win so far. Three for the Condors. If we win one more, we’ll take the series.
“I am worn out,” he says. “We’ve had so many stresses this year, and now the playoffs.”
So many stresses? How much of this is on me?
“I wish I could tell you it gets better, but I’m not sure it does. The seasons and playoffs, anyway.”
He nods. “I figured.”
“All those stresses…” I struggle to find more words. Finally, I say, “I’m sorry about that. I wish I could go back and do better for both of us.”
The lines on his face deepen. “It hasn’t only been you, but I won’t lie and say you weren’t part of it.”
“I’ve been trying, Ozzy. Right now, I have to do my job.”
“I know. But we have other things to be happy about.”
“Nine days when we’ve only seen each other from 180 feet away?”
He flinches.
“This is so fucking difficult,” I say. “Much harder than I thought. Why do we have to be playing against each other?”
“Because that’s how it worked out.” He flashes something I think is supposed to be a grin. “Because we are the two best goalies in the league?”
Neither of us laughs, and it takes me a moment to say, “We probably are, but I hate what that means right now. I want to win, but I want you more. I feel like I’m not giving my best to either.”
He sighs. “I want you to win, but I want to win too.”
There’s the problem, the thing we’ve probably both thought every day.
I put a hand on his leg. “We shouldn’t feel bad. We’ve worked for this our whole lives.”
“Looks like you might get it.”
“Don’t bet on it. Last year, the Condors were up three games, then lost the last four. Pittsburgh won the series.”
“That must have been awful. There’s an old Swedish saying that goes, ‘Do not sell the skin before the bear is shot.’”
I have to run that around my mind a few times before I get it. “Oh my God. We say, ‘Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.’”
We both laugh, which makes me want to cry because it feels so good.
“Both silly sayings,” he says. “But probably wise.”
“You’re right.” Reality closes back in, but at least I feel better after laughing with him. “We have to get through this, Ozzy. It isn’t fun competing against each other, but I still love you.”
“I love you too.” He hesitates. “What if it happens again next year?”
“Then it does. At least we’ll know more about what to expect.”
We sit quietly for a long time. We both want to win. After one of us does, we’ll still have each other.
“Hey.” I nudge him with my elbow and stand up. “Come on.”
“Where to?”
“Bed.”
One Day Later
The sound of skates slicing through the ice makes me uneasy. Kendrick, the Fury’s captain, is on a breakaway, but Nico’s right on his tail. As Kendrick blows across the blue line and cuts left, the turn costs him. Nico almost pulls even and tries to hook Kendrick’s stick, but can’t quite get it.
A Fury D-man barrels in and parks himself in front of me, but our man Thompson hits him hard, knocking him out of the way. I skate out to cut Kendrick’s angle as he fires a shot. It’s harder than I expected, but I get my glove on it. We’re still up by one.
While the lines change for a faceoff, I look at Ozzy at the far end of the ice. He’s frozen in defense stance, as if we had a man breaking toward the net. It happens when you’re tense.
He straightens, looks at me, and nods. We both raise our sticks in a mutual salute.
The Fury take the faceoff, and play explodes into chaos as one of their wingers races toward me with the puck.
I’m relieved when Packy flies up beside him and forces a turnover.
Packy dishes the puck to Jace, who sends it cross-ice toward Theo.
But before it arrives, the Fury’s center swoops in and takes possession only twenty feet from me.
Shit.
He fires, and even though I try to get my blocker in the way, I’m too late. I barely resist banging my stick on the ice.
The first intermission seems short. Holmer comes in and talks too long, and then Nico takes his turn at revving us up. I barely have time to run to the bathroom before we’re heading back out.
As the second period explodes into action, both teams abandon strategy for speed. The Fury storm around the ice. Their man Carson brings the puck across our blue line, then passes to Kendrick. I’m already moving as he hurtles toward me.
“Cut him off!” I scream at Thompson.
But Thompson isn’t fast enough. Kendrick fakes, then shoots a laser between my glove and body. Heat floods my face as the puck slams into the net. Fuck me. We’re trailing by one.
Down the ice, Ozzy doesn’t move.
The next ten minutes are sheer madness. Players go back and forth between the offensive zones at a dizzying pace. The Fury set up in our zone and hammer me with one fucking shot after another. Each one is a little closer to going in as I struggle to keep up.
Don’t lose it. We’re so close to winning this.
Nico gets his stick on the puck and races into the Fury’s zone. Now, our line is peppering Ozzy with shots.
All at once, a brutal hit by one of their D-men sends Jace spinning, making him lose the puck. Nico grabs it and heads for their goal, drawing Ozzy and a defenseman with him. Nico dishes to Theo, who sends it to Noah. Ozzy’s out of position and scrambling to recover.
That’s when Jace strikes, flying in from the weak side. Nico passes to him, and Jace one-times it. The arena erupts as our line mobs Jace for the celly. Ozzy slams his stick against a post and turns away. Game tied again.
“Come on, come on!” I yell to nobody in particular. We need to score again.
The final minutes of the period are even crazier. Ozzy stands on his head down the ice, and I make a lunging glove save with thirty seconds left. When the horn blows, the score is still tied. I’m shaking as I head for the tunnel.
Ozzy is leaving the ice too. Our eyes meet, and when he shoots me a tight smile, I return it.
Five minutes into the third, the puck’s pinned along the boards in our zone.
Kendrick and Theo are digging for it, and Kendrick wrenches it free.
My heart jumps as he sends it cross-ice to Lewis, who rips a shot.
I see it coming, but it’s too fast. The puck is in the net before I can get across the crease.
They’re up by one again.
Fuck!
For the next sixteen minutes, we give everything we have but get nowhere. The weight of what’s at stake presses in, and every movement feels harder in this war of desperation and near misses. As the clock winds down, I feel like screaming.
We can’t lose this game.
With three minutes left on the clock, Packy strips the puck at the blue line and snaps it home before Ozzy can react. Tie game again. The crowd erupts, and I’m screaming into my mask, fist pounding the air. We can win the game that will send us to the Cup Finals.
Nico takes the next draw clean. Theo passes to McKay, and McKay’s slapshot finds a lane through traffic. The crowd goes insane when the puck hits the net.
Yes!
For a second, it’s the best moment of my life.
Then I look at Ozzy, and the other half of it lands.
His back is to me, his head down and shoulders slumped.
He thought they had this. We’re trying to take away his chance, and I’m doing everything I can to make it happen.
I want to play for the Laurentian Cup so much I can taste it.
If only we could win without crushing his dream.
With a minute left in the game, their coach pulls Ozzy for an extra attacker. They pin us in our zone, and I block shot after fucking shot. Even then, I sneak a look at the Fury’s bench, where Ozzy’s standing with his helmet off, drying his head with a towel.
Focus on the game.
I stop one more shot before the final horn blows. Gloves and sticks fly into the air, our guys pour over the boards, and Noah throws his arms around my neck.
“We did it,” he yells. “We’re going to play for the Cup.”
I celebrate with my teammates for a moment, but then I look over at the Fury bench. Ozzy’s sitting with his head in his hands.
No stick, no salute. He can’t see me, and even if he could, he has nothing to raise.
When we meet in the handshake line, his eyes are red-rimmed but clear. He nods, and I pull him in and slap his back hard, the way you do in a line of men, half of them heartbroken and the other half overjoyed.
“I’m sorry, Ozzy,” I say into his ear. “Tell me you’ll be at my place when I get there.”
He pulls away. “Congratulations.” His voice doesn’t break, which feels worse than if it had. “I will be there.”