Face Off (San Antonio Surge #3)

Chapter 1

Hunter

It was a cruel joke, the scoreboard. Against Utah Mammoth, no less. Time bled away faster than my brain could process. I even thought I’d imagined that last buzzer.

“Screw this. Callahan!” Coach’s call fractured my bubble of humiliation.

I jerked upright on the bench, but that was it. Because no way was he for real right now. He wasn’t sending me on to save the unsavable day.

“You gonna make me wait?” He slapped my arm with his clipboard. “Get your ass out there and for the love of all that is holy, stop something.”

My stick slid into my glove, and I vaulted over the boards before things got ugly.

Or, uglier than they already were. Trey’s head hung low as he skated by me, grumbling something about this being bullshit.

I didn’t blame him. I swung back when I hit the posts and noticed how he didn’t even hit the bench. Just kept walking.

“I’ll deal with him later,” Grayson said, skating up and tapping my helmet. “You good?”

“Does it matter?”

“Helps if I know the net’s covered,” he said.

I struck my pads with my stick and took ownership of my space. “Only net you need to worry about is the one over there.”

He laughed, and returned to his top line for a quick huddle.

Last season, this place could barely contain the yelling and chanting from overzealous fans. I’d even spotted my name on a few posters punching the air. Tonight was the total opposite. I saw my name, my face, but the posters weren’t punching anything. People just weren’t feeling it.

I forced it out of my head. Just hold the post. Do the job.

The whistle was still echoing when Utah’s top line pressed hard. I cut to the crease, squared my shoulders and barked at Theo as he tried to shield off their winger.

“Take high!”

Theo threw me a quick nod, sweat glistening through the cage of his helmet. “Don’t let me down, sweetheart.”

Yeah, no pressure.

The Utah winger fired from the circle. The shot pinged off Mason’s shin pad and ricocheted straight toward the slot. My gut lurched. I dropped to a knee, stick flat, and the puck smacked against my blade with a crack that rattled up my arm. I swept it wide before their center could jam it in.

But someone else picked it up and rounded back to regroup. Our guys had no answer to get possession back where it belonged.

I crouched, glove and blocker ready, eyes on the Mammoth’s first line. The rush was faster than when I watched from the bench. A slap shot from the blue line came screaming toward me. I dropped down, pad out, and felt the familiar thump as it pinged into my chest protector. Second save.

“Nice!”

“It’ll be nice if you put a couple away before Christmas, Calder!” I was in the zone. Feeling good. The nerves that followed me out on the ice were straight-up rattled out of me. Now all we needed were a few goals…

The puck came back at the net like a missile.

I kicked it out with my right pad, spinning to catch the rebound.

Theo cleared it along the boards, Mason yelling something about coverage.

The guys were trying, God bless them, but Utah was hungry.

They got the taste of an improbable victory, and they weren’t holding back.

I could feel Grayson behind me, yelling orders, keeping the defense in check. Mason skated up with Tucker closing in, waving his stick. They were trying to create something, anything, to break through. I had to give them that. But every save I made was just me buying time. Time we didn’t have.

“Any time you’re ready,” Theo grunted as Grayson circled. “We can’t hold them off all night.”

“Speak for yourself, princess,” I called out. “I got fresh legs and saves for days.”

Reset.

Mason hollered as a Utah forward rushed into the slot. I pivoted, glove up, and snagged the puck just as it was about to cross the line. Theo’s stick was there, swiping it down the ice. Small win.

The clock ticked, but the scoreboard didn’t budge. Three-nothing. And still, silence in the arena. Every missed pass, every slip from my defense, felt like it echoed in the cavernous stands. I caught a glimpse of our fans. A handful of them clapped hesitantly. The rest just stared, blank, frozen.

I could almost hear Trey’s footsteps fade into the tunnel, a ghost of frustration.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted this nightmare of a game to go on forever, or call it a day and see what the crash out would be in the locker room after.

Especially after the ordeal we’d been through with Trey demanding to keep his starting post on the roster.

“Center ice!” the Utah forward barked.

They stormed forward again. One-two-three, rapid passes, and I dropped into a butterfly stance. The puck slid toward the left post. Glove hand, up, thump. Saved. My shoulder shook from the impact, but what I felt was the old rhythm of the game that had kept me alive on the ice for seven years.

Theo skated back, giving me a stiff nod. “Guess you were right about those fresh legs, Callahan.”

“I’m always right.”

Grayson spun into the next play, Mason right behind him. I could see Mason’s hands tense around his stick. We were all feeling the sting of a season opener slipping away, the shock that this was real. I don’t think I breathed through the rest of their play.

They set up a perfect two-on-one. Mason crossed the crease, trying a blind pass. Their goalie caught it just in time, glove snapping up.

“Fuck!” Grayson cursed, cycling back to regroup.

Shawn swept up the left in a surprise move, swiftly feeding Tucker who touched it through to Mason. No time to think. Slap shot to Grayson’s backdoor, one-touch– Fans stirred. Small claps rippled through the stunned crowd, and my chest pulled tight with frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard.

Another whistle. Face-off in the Mammoth zone.

Puck dropped. I was crouched, ready. They fired a shot from the blue line.

Blocker save. Rebound loose. It got picked up quickly and our guys rushed forward, each pass a thing of beauty.

This was it. It had to be. Mason looped it low and hard, the puck kissing Grayson’s stick on that sweet spot that spelled danger to whoever tried to get in his way.

Their goalie didn’t get the memo, though, and swallowed up Grayson’s shot like it came from a five-year-old.

Seconds left on the clock. And then, like a punch to the gut, a breakaway.

Utah forward, speed like lightning, puck skittering across the ice.

I charged forward. Stick angled. Glove ready.

He faked left, shot right. I lunged. The puck slid past and hit the back of the net with a hollow thud that I felt all the way inside my bones.

Final buzzer. Four to them, and a big, fat zero to us. The silence in the arena was crushing. Suffocating.

I dropped to my knees, breath ragged. I couldn’t look at Coach, although I was painfully aware of him staring daggers in my direction. And where I avoided him, the rest of my team didn’t throw a spare glance at me as they left the ice.

“It was an impossible ask,” Mason said to me once we were back in the locker room. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“Too late.”

Usually a hive of activity, the locker room felt more like a funeral parlor. We just sat there. Exhausted. Defeated. Tucker was flat on the floor, full gear, head back against the wall, his eyes staring off into space. That look of hollow disappointment was mirrored in each of us.

“Well, that was a shitshow.” Coach stomped in, shoulders wide, eyes burning. “So much for setting the tone for the cup this season.”

“I don’t know what went wrong, Coach,” Grayson spoke up. As captain, it was always going to be him.

“I do,” Coach replied with enough heat to set the place on fire. “Short answer? Everything. Everything went wrong out there tonight.”

The rough edges of his voice sliced through the tired tension in the room. I dropped my head and out the corner of my eye, saw pretty much everyone was doing the same.

“What’s the point of me screaming my lungs out, telling you what to do, huh?

” Coach paced the short length in front of us, forgetting Grayson and speaking to all of us.

“You can’t pin it on Grayson when none of you rose up to the challenge.

I expected more, and you let me down. You let yourselves down, and every one of your fans who wants to see you lift that cup as much as you wanna lift it. ”

He stopped and stared at me. My chest tightened. I was supposed to end the bad run that Trey had kicked off. Instead, I let them slip a fourth past me.

“Lose something, Callahan?”

My head snapped up. “Coach?”

“What are you looking for down there, when I’m over here talking to you?” He was seething, and it was all coming straight at me. “You came in when we needed you, and you did what we needed you to do. No shame in that.”

I blinked. Shocked, maybe even dumbfounded. “Bu– I didn’t save th–”

“You showed up,” Coach cut in. “Which is more than I can say about Trey. I hope you’re ready to keep it up for the rest of the season.”

Around me, the guys exchanged glances, confusion spreading like wildfire. Mason’s mouth opened, then closed again. Grayson raised his eyebrows, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“The season?”

Coach gave me a sharp look. “You heard me. As of right now, you’re starting goalie for the Surge.”

My gaze drifted to Trey’s locker. It was empty. Gear, nameplate, everything. I felt my stomach drop. Until now, I hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in here with us.

“Should’ve happened last season, and yeah… that one’s on me.”

Stunned didn’t cover it. Seven years as backup, and even with extra game time last season, I never expected… this.

Grayson clapped a hand on my shoulder, grinning. “There’s nobody better for the job, Callahan.”

“Literally nobody,” Tucker snorted. “You’re the only goalie we’ve got.”

He laughed, and the rest of the guys joined in, the tension finally easing a little. One look at Coach, and it seemed as if even he was starting to ease up after that humiliating loss.

He clapped his hands sharply, drawing everyone’s attention again. “Alright. Hunter, get changed. Bob’s expecting you in his office before you head off. Press release goes out first thing in the morning. And yes, you’ll need to polish up that image of yours before the cameras and headlines hit.”

“Bob Trent?” I muttered with a groan I couldn’t stifle. The head of marketing. “Please, Coach. I… I don’t need an image. I’m just a goalie. Besides, Mason’s doing such a good job being our media mascot.”

“Thank God he took over,” Grayson said, elbowing me in the ribs.

The guys laughed quietly, but I wasn’t laughing. I hated this. Spotlight, interviews, endorsements. It was all noise I didn’t want. But Coach wasn’t asking. The look on his face was the only answer I was gonna get. A silent, but unmistakable ‘no’.

I changed, then headed toward Bob’s office, the hallway feeling longer than usual.

“I have to say, Hunter, I didn’t have this on my Bingo card for the season.” His slimy grin did nothing to help with how much I didn’t want to be here.

He rounded his desk, and that’s when I realized we weren’t alone.

A woman stood just inside the door. Long dark hair, striking blue eyes that pinched my chest, and a pencil skirt that traced the curve of her hips like it was nobody’s business.

Her lips parted slightly, and she almost smiled. I almost smiled back, when–

“Helloooo… Anybody home?”

I blinked stupidly at Bob’s boring face. He was practically right up in mine.

“Did you hear what I said?”

I didn’t. I saw her, and left the planet for a second.

“Sorry, I’m just tired,” I said. “Still thinking about the game.”

His gaze shifted from my blatant lie to the gorgeous woman still standing there, and one of his eyebrows quirked. “Sure. The game. Well, as I was saying… This is Holly Griswold, my new intern.”

A glance in her direction, and I caught the micro-grimace that flashed across her face when he said that. Intern. She didn’t care for the term, clearly. Well, I didn’t care to be here, so we had some misery in common.

“Since my skills are better kept where the team needs it most,” Bob continued, “I’m tasking her with you.”

“What do you mean, ‘tasking her with me’?” Only then did it occur to me that the introduction was more than just etiquette.

“Exactly what I said.” His voice was clipped, no-nonsense. “Holly needs to find her sea legs, and you need a revamp. This is how we kill two birds with one stroke of PR genius.”

She must’ve seen my struggle to figure out what the hell he was saying, because Holly stepped forward, hand outstretched.

“I’ll be managing your media training, public image, endorsements… everything that makes you perfect for the Surge brand.”

I took her hand, using everything in me to ignore how her voice was all low and smooth, like a warm bath. Right now, I didn’t give a shit what she looked or sounded like.

“I’ll try to make it short so you can get back to real work.”

“Oh, I hope not,” she said, tilting her head. And there was that not-quite smile again, cranking up the temperature in the small back office. “I’m the most important person in your life now, Hunter. From now until you’re nothing but well-rehearsed sound bytes and a million-dollar smile.”

A sound came out of me, meant to be a grunt of protest or something along those lines, but veering more toward a weak-ass whimper. Another defeat for the night.