CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE #2
Him and Nicky and Ian and Roman and …
But it was time to get on the ice again soon and Leif dragged a towel over his still-damp hair and guzzled another big swig of an electrolyte replacement drink before grabbing dry gloves from the equipment manager.
One period at a time. One shift at a time. One shot at a time. That was the only way to do it.
So Leif went out for the second period, and he ignored Tanner and he took every opportunity he had to get the puck to the net. No matter how ugly, no matter how impossible, he took the shot.
And Nicky did the same.
Renner drew a penalty against Crawford, and the Rockets went on the power play.
Nicky was the trigger man again and after a couple of quick back-and-forth between the two of them, with Ian low in the slot, Nicky faked a pass back to Leif but fired it instead.
Webber saw the puck at the last second and shot out his catcher, but the rubber disc grazed the edge of it before tumbling into the net.
Leif shouted his pleasure and the building erupted with excitement.
“Fuck yes! That was beautiful!” Leif shouted at his captain as they collided in a celly.
Nicky grinned, clearly relieved. Other guys piled on them, the building still filled with noisy joy. Nicky was beaming as he skated to the bench for fist bumps.
His teammates shouted their appreciation at him for tying the game up 2–2 and Leif couldn’t stop smiling either. Fuck, why had he ever been worried about Nicky coming back? This was what they needed, their captain playing like the superstar he was. Them pulling together to make this happen.
But on the next shift out, Tanner got the puck off the boards and passed it to Connor O’Shea, who sank the puck in behind Poole, whose diving save had come too late.
Poole was slow to get up and Leif tried to hide a wince. Fuck.
But there was still almost six minutes left in the game, and it was only 3–2 in favor of the Harriers. The Rockets still had time to even it up.
On Leif’s next shift out, he was low in the slot when Tom Bass fired the puck—a heavy slapper that cracked through the air. The puck came shooting toward Leif and he thrust his stick out to bat it away.
He swore as pain exploded through his elbow and he fell to the ice, too stunned and blinded by it to stop his knees from buckling. He rolled onto his side, gasping and clutching his elbow, his brain whirling with a combination of searing pain and fear that it was broken.
No, fuck, not now, he pleaded, trying to draw in a breath.
And then Ian was there, helping him sit up. Leif sat there a moment, his vision swimming from the pain.
“Can you get up?” Ian shouted over the worried noises from the crowd. “Do you need a trainer?”
Leif groaned and shook his head, letting Ian help him to his feet and there was a smattering of applause from the Rockets fans in the crowd.
Leif tentatively moved his arm, expecting searing pain to go through his forearm and hand, but there was just a weird sort of numbness in his pinky and ring finger.
He sighed, relieved. “Shit. I think it’s just a stinger.”
That happened sometimes. The puck hit just wrong—or just right, maybe?—getting the ulnar nerve instead of bone. There could still be a small fracture or something but hopefully not.
As he skated to the bench under his own power, with Ian by his side, he caught a glimpse of Tanner, still hovering on the ice, chewing on his mouthguard and looking worried.
Not enough that it would give them away, but Leif knew Tanner’s face almost as well as his own now, knew what the little furrow between his brow meant. He gave Tanner a faint nod, just enough to let him know he’d be okay, and watched that furrow smooth out.
I’m okay, he wanted to say. I love you and I’ll be alright.
But he couldn’t say any of that, so he looked away and continued on to the bench. Someone let him in through the door and Danny, one of their trainers, was already there, shouting questions at him.
Leif went down the tunnel just long enough to get checked over where Danny could actually hear him over the noise of the crowd.
He flexed his fingers, assuring Danny the numbness had already started to fade into an uncomfortable tingle.
“Let me back out there,” he demanded. “I’m fine.”
Danny shot him a suspicious look but nodded. “We’re doing an X-ray after the game,” he said threateningly and Leif nodded. They could do whatever they wanted to him after.
He just needed to get back out there now.
He hurried back to the bench, flexing his fingers, hoping that would help it return to normal faster.
He got a slap on the back from Coach Pittman and some taps from the guys and Leif was optimistic as he got on the ice for his next shift. It was like Pittman had put the lines in a blender because he threw Nicky and Leif out together in the hope that they could make something happen.
Nicky didn’t play wing a lot, but he could do it and they’d practiced that too.
Leif collected a pass from Ian and tried to fire it at the Harriers’ net, but he could feel the weakness in his grip as he took the shot. He whiffed on it completely, groaning when Tanner snagged the puck from him with a little wink.
Leif chased after him, cursing under his breath, annoyed and frustrated because damn it, he’d had a good opportunity there!
But Nicky stole the puck back from Tanner and skated toward the Harriers’ net on a breakaway.
Leif watched intently, his breath catching as he saw Crawford heading toward him like a freight train barreling down. But his elbows stayed down, the hit was clean, and Nicky popped to his feet a moment later.
The sigh of relief Leif released was huge.
On the bench after his shift, Leif glanced up at the scoreboard. Four minutes to even it up. They could do it.
His coach bent down, speaking in his ear. “Is your fucking elbow going to be a problem?” he asked.
Leif winced. “It’s still causing a little numbness.”
“Got it.” He spoke a little louder, settling a hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “I want you out in place of Rasmussen for the extra attacker when I pull Poole.”
Leif bit back a curse and they both nodded.
Poole was already edging his way out of the net, and on a signal from the coach, he was out of his crease and heading toward the bench.
Nicky went out and Leif watched, breath held, as Nicky swooped around the Harriers’ net, carrying the puck. God, he was trying so hard too. Leif could almost feel the way he was willing the puck to go into the net. The way he was trying to keep up the momentum.
But a moment later, Mickey Krause snagged the puck and tore down the ice, firing it toward the net.
The puck went in and the goal horn lit up.
The Harriers had made it 4–2.
A little over a minute later, as the game horn sounded, Tanner flung his gloves off and hopped over the boards. He screamed his joy in Crawford’s face, laughing as Crawford picked him up and shook him.
“We fucking beat those bastards!” he shouted.
Tanner was still laughing as Connor collided with them, his face filled with joy despite the pain he was obviously in.
They were moving on to the third round!
It was a dazzling whirl of joy for a few moments as Tanner hugged his teammates and shouted his happiness for the whole arena to hear.
But slowly, as they came together for the handshake line, it hit Tanner what had happened. The Rockets had just lost, which meant that Leif …
Tanner winced at the sight of his boyfriend’s face as they got closer and closer together in the line. The happiness that had been there just a few minutes ago was gone, completely wiped away, and replaced with the saddest expression Tanner had ever seen.
Tanner studied Leif’s face and Leif’s eyes were so hurt, so dull and full of pain that Tanner almost gasped. Fuck, hopefully his elbow wasn’t actually broken.
But Tanner wasn’t sure if it was physical pain or being knocked out of the playoffs that made him look like that.
They met in the line and Tanner murmured, “Good game,” and squeezed Leif’s hand tightly. Because it was true and because it was all he could do.
For a moment, Leif didn’t do anything, just stood there, staring blankly at Tanner, his hand limp in Tanner’s grip.
Fear flickered through Tanner and he held his breath.
He wasn’t really someone who assumed the worst but the look on Leif’s face made him start to question things. What if this was even worse than he’d thought? What if he was pissed at Tanner and the Harriers for the win? What if that was enough to make him change his mind about their relationship?
Leif had shut down after the loss at the North Atlantic Tournament. What if he did it again? What if he pushed Tanner away? Tanner couldn’t go to him at the hotel after like he had the last time.
Tanner stared at him, helplessly, silently begging him to remember that they were a team too. Him and Leif together and he needed to fight for them.
Just when Tanner felt like he’d explode, Leif squeezed back.
Although he let go a moment later and his eyes were still full of pain, there was a flicker of something, a tiny hint that he hadn’t forgotten he loved Tanner.
Tanner let out a relieved breath and moved on to shake the next guy’s hand, murmuring, “Good game,” on autopilot.
Tanner had to hold on to that look from Leif. He had to hope that it would be enough to get them through this.