CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Leif cursed as he took his spot on the top power play in the Rockets’ defensive zone. As much as he’d been looking forward to being in Boston and seeing Tanner tonight, Leif was not enjoying playing the Harriers.
They were already well into the second period, and the game was still scoreless.
With Jesse Webber in net for Boston and Roman Poole for the Rockets, it was a frustrating game. Lots of good scoring chances and nothing to show for it.
Leif had gotten a high stick from Luke Crawford that caught him in the mouth and had managed to sell it well enough to the refs that Crawford went to the box for two minutes.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t bled. The Rockets really could have used a double minor right now. Especially because they weren’t maintaining zone possession well at all.
Leif settled into position, staring across the faceoff dot at Graham Pennington.
He grimaced, watching intently as Erik Wyatt, Mickey Krause, and Rafe Moon lined up too. Thankfully, Tanner wasn’t out for the PK. There was no fear of distraction.
The puck dropped and it was a clean win from Leif, off his stick to Ian Salter, and he was tearing up the ice. Moon got a stick out and drove the play back toward the Rockets’ net. He fired it in but Poole batted it away.
The play continued and Ian raced toward the Harriers’ net, only to get bodied by Moon and Krause swooped in to retrieve the puck. He fired it toward Erik Wyatt who deftly skated between Salter and Palmer, then chipped it toward the net.
Poole batted it out of the air and smothered it, but Leif chewed on his mouthguard. Damn, the Harriers’ rookie was playing well.
A few more plays up and down the ice and then Leif was heading back to the bench, Nicky coming off it to take his place. He watched intently as Nicky tore up the ice on a breakaway, absolutely destroying any attempts by Krause and Moon to backcheck.
He held his breath as Nicky fired but Jesse Webber poked it away with his stick and the play continued.
The Rockets were unsuccessful on the power play and by the time Luke Crawford was out of the box and the Harriers were at full strength, Leif was back out on the ice.
The Harriers swept in, Tanner racing to get behind the Harriers’ net and fire the puck to Crawford.
Crawford passed it to O’Shea, who’d been hanging out near the blue line.
He drove hard into the neutral zone, Henriksen and Pennington swooping in as well.
O’Shea passed the puck to Henriksen, who fired it at the goal.
But Poole was solid, blocking the puck, and immediately deflecting it toward Leif.
Leif deftly slipped around Crawford—he was big and mean but not terribly fast—and took another shot at the net.
Jesse blocked it and the Harriers regained possession, Crawford sweeping it back across the blue line and into the Rockets’ defensive zone.
So it was going to be like this all game, huh?
The second period ended without a goal either and Tanner muttered, “I fucking hate this team,” to Crawford as they headed down the tunnel to the locker room.
“Seriously.” Luke sighed. “Fuck them all.”
“Didn’t think you were into that,” Tanner teased, elbowing him in the ribs.
Luke made a face and shoved him back. “I’ll leave the man-whoring to you, thanks.”
Tanner grinned. The only person he was going to be getting naked with tonight was Leif and he was definitely looking forward to it.
As they trooped into the locker room and guys took care of their needs—for Tanner that meant hydration and refueling—he felt another zing of anticipation go through him. He’d been buzzing about their meetup for days, even if Leif had been annoying as hell about planning it.
After a bunch of back-and-forth about where they were staying, he’d mapped it all out down to the second of when they were supposed to arrive and leave. Tanner had finally started nodding and saying “mm-hhm” and “that sounds good” just to get him to move on.
Who cared about that shit? What he wanted to know was what kind of fun stuff they were going to get up to.
But Leif was boring and practical. Of course, even Tanner could admit that, sometimes, it came in handy. If he was the one in charge, he’d completely forget to reserve a place for them at all.
He checked his phone. There was no message from Leif but he hadn’t really expected it.
He’d been ignoring Tanner all game. Like if he didn’t look Tanner in the eye, he could pretend that they weren’t fucking on the reg now.
Okay, maybe not on the reg, exactly, since it was more like mutual masturbation, but that totally counted in Tanner’s mind.
Either way, he found it funny that Leif was being a big baby about it.
“Clayton!”
Tanner jerked in surprise at the sound of his name.
“Yeah?” he said, straightening to look at Connor.
“I wanna see you get out there in the third period and really get into Rasmussen’s face. I want you to fuck with him however you can. Get him off his game.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Tanner said with a salute.
Beside him, Crawford rolled his eyes.
When they went out for the third period, Tanner did as he was told, shadowing Leif and constantly yapping at him.
“I’m thinking about going out after the game,” Tanner hollered at him when they were battling against the boards at one point. “You wanna join me?”
Leif shot him an annoyed glance.
“What?” Tanner said, trying to sound innocent. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, Princess.”
Unfortunately, neither of them got the puck that time—Ian Salter did—and with less than five minutes on the clock, Salter got the puck to Nicky Calhoun, who tore up the ice toward the Harriers’ net. Tanner cursed.
Crawford—who had been hovering near the blue line—put on a desperate burst of speed, reaching out with his stick, trying to disrupt his shot. Jesse reacted, but a little too slow and the puck went in, slipping between his pads and the ice.
New York had the first goal of the game.
Tanner cursed and slowed to a stop near Crawford as Calhoun whooped, looking Crawford right in the face as he raised his arms and stick in the air, his teammates on the ice piling on to celebrate.
“You thought you’d gotten rid of me for good, huh?” he taunted as he skated by them a moment later. “Too fucking bad. I’m back, baby.”
Crawford looked pissy as he skated back to the bench, whacking his stick against the boards before he got off the ice. Tanner didn’t blame him.
He was annoyed that New York had scored, although Nicky Calhoun being on a revenge tour against Crawford was a tiny bit hilarious to Tanner.
Several more shifts out and with less than a minute left in regulation, Crawford stole the puck from Calhoun in a battle against the boards and passed it to Connor.
Tanner drove hard toward the net, but Connor took a few strides toward the center of the ice and fired.
The puck pinged off the post, then landed in the net behind Roman Poole.
Tanner shouted his excitement and the home crowd’s roar was deafening as he skated toward his captain. Luke was already there, wrapping his arms around Connor’s waist and shaking him while he hollered, “Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah, that’s how we do it in Boston.”
Two more of their teammates joined them in the celly and Tanner felt a little lighter when he finally broke away and skated to the Harriers’ bench. They’d tied it up.
He caught a glimpse of a frowning Leif.
Clearly, New York wasn’t willing to lie down and take it, because although Graham, Anker, and Erik all had really good scoring chances in overtime, New York kept the pressure up, forcing Boston to defend heavily in their own zone.
With thirty seconds to go, Calhoun got another breakaway and although Jesse flung his body sideways in his crease, the puck skipped over him and landed in the back of the net.
Tanner groaned. New York had won.
Leif was going to be so fucking annoying tonight.
Eager to get to Tanner, Leif hurried through media, his post-game cooldown and recovery, then showered and dressed in record time.
He did it fast enough that several people side-eyed him as he made for the door of the visitors’ locker room. He forced himself to slow down as he stepped through the doors and yelped in surprise when he saw his father waiting in the hallway outside.
He was talking to Hawke.
Leif stared in surprise at them for a moment. They were standing quite close together, speaking in low tones, too quiet for Leif to hear.
Aksel’s shoulders and jaw were tight, and Hawke had his hands jammed in in his trouser pockets. Hawke looked … kinda pissy.
Langley Hawkins wasn’t usually a pissy kinda guy. He could look serious or worried sometimes—especially when something concerning was going on with one of his goalies—but he usually seemed to be good-humored with a little twinkle in his eye.
But he didn’t look good-humored or mischievous now.
He scowled at something Aksel said and shook his head.
Leif hesitated. Damn, he wanted to get to Tanner as quickly as possible but the air between Aksel and Hawke was distinctly frosty and Leif wondered if he should interrupt or not.
He was sure that his dad was here to see him but shit, running into his ex had to be awkward for him. For both of them really.
Maybe they’d welcome the interruption?
Leif stepped closer, clearing his throat.
“Leif,” his father said as he turned to look over his shoulder, a relieved expression crossing his face. “I was just looking for you.”
“See you around, Rasmussen,” Hawke said tightly.
“Enjoy your evening, Lange—uh, Langley.”
Hawke nodded and strode away, like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Aksel stood there, staring at his ex’s retreating back with a frown, while Leif stared at his father. When Aksel made no move, Leif finally asked, “Uhh, what was that all about?”
“Nothing.” Aksel’s smile was tight as he turned. “I came here to see you and Lange—Hawkins and I just ran into each other and were catching up.”
“That didn’t look like catching up to me,” Leif said slowly. “That looked like …”
Honestly, he wasn’t sure what it looked like. It hadn’t escaped his notice that his dad kept slipping up and calling him Lange. His old hockey nickname had always been Hawke—both because of his name and because he’d played for the Harriers. He was still known by that name around the league.
Lange must have been something … special, his dad had called his ex-boyfriend. Lover? Leif was never really sure how his father thought of the guy he’d been with before.
In the past, his dad had referred to it as dating, but Leif hadn’t ever known for sure if it had been really romantic or more just …
physical. And while Leif didn’t really want to think about his dad being physical with anyone, he had a feeling that had been intense.
There was something in the way they’d looked at each other now, like not all of that heat was gone.
Not the way it was between Leif’s parents.
But did his dad and Hawke still have feelings for each other?
Aksel cleared his throat. “Anyway, I came here to see if you wanted to grab dinner. I know things were a bit crazy with your flight plans being changed because of weather, but I thought maybe now that you know you’ll be staying in Boston overnight, I’d offer.”
“I ate already,” Leif said automatically, grateful for the excuse.
“Or, if you just want to come over to my place for a bit and relax, we could do that too.”
“I, uh, well,” Leif stammered, not sure how to explain to his dad that he had plans.
“It’s just …” Aksel’s shoulders slumped, “Running into Lange—”
Leif opened his mouth to ask his father what the hell had happened between them anyway, but what he actually said was, “I have plans.”
“Oh.” Aksel’s expression fell even more.
“I’m sorry.” Leif winced. “I …”
“No.” His fathers straightened, squaring his shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be free.”
“Well, I usually am,” Leif pointed out.
He’d always made it a priority to spend time with his dad whenever Boston and New York played, so he couldn’t really blame him for expecting that to be true tonight.
“No, it’s good that you have plans,” Aksel said firmly. “Go. Enjoy.”
Leif hesitated. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. I’ll be fine.” Aksel’s face softened as he reached out to hug Leif. “Enjoy your night.”
Leif hugged him back, his stomach churning with worry even as he tried not to hurry or seem overly eager as he made for the entrance.
But he couldn’t help himself. It had been too long since he’d last seen Tanner in person.