Chapter 43
Every aspect of the trip to New Jersey is tense as we all prepare for games three and four. Instead of putting distance between myself and Elliot like I thought I would, we only spend more time together—finding comfort in each other to make it through the mounting pressure. If I'm honest with myself, even though I don't want to be, we’ve been growing closer for months. I am just ignoring the elephant in the room. At the end of this Final Series, I will be seeking a transfer to national news and getting my happy ass back to New York City. Any pain and suffering caused by not seeing Elliot again will be worth it in the long run when I am living my dream.
For now, I push the consequences to the side and ride the emotional highs and lows of the playoffs. When everything becomes too intense, I can lean into Elliot and he does the same with me. Even though I know we shouldn't. Our bond only strengthens. So far, the highs have been high, but I have gotten a first-hand look at how low the lows can be during this final stretch. Losing once is a blow to the guys’ confidence, but losing back-to-back is a real wakeup call to a potential reality where the Red Wolves don't bring home the Cup.
Game Three against the Reapers is a heartbreaker. The guys fight hard but ultimately lose in overtime. I watch rink-side, my heart aching for Elliot and the entire team. After spending this much time with them, they have become my friends. Friends that I want to see succeed. The locker room is somber afterward, the weight of the loss hanging heavy in the air. Elliot is visibly frustrated, but he keeps his composure. That can't be said for everyone. At one point, I thought Coach was going to snap on Oren. I heard him shouting in some combination of French, English, and maybe even a third language? I can't be sure.
After I'm done with the broadcast, I join the rest of the team's staff on the bus back to the hotel. It’s a quiet ride for everyone. Once we get back to the lobby, I send Elliot a text.
Ziggy: Do you want
company tonight?
: Yes. I'm hungry
and going to order food.
What do you want?
Ziggy: I'll grab us
something from the
restaurant next door
and bring it up. Don't
worry about ordering it.
Burgers?
: Sounds good.
: Thanks for
being here.
I put my phone up, focusing on getting our late-night burgers and fries and head upstairs to Elliot's room. I let myself into his room, finding Elliot laid out on the couch. He doesn't really react when I walk in. He seems somewhat in a trance, staring at a black TV screen. I walk to the mini fridge and grab two beers before setting our food on the coffee table in front of him. I settle in beside him and dig into my food. Elliot follows suit, and we eat in silence. I take a sip of beer before turning to him and watching him finish up his burger. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. His facial features are tired. There is a shade of darkness underneath his eyes that I've never seen before.
I set my beer on the coffee table and nuzzle closer to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling his big frame into my body. I can feel the exhale of his breath that he was holding leave his body as he leans into me. We stay there in silence for what feels like hours. After a long stretch of time passes, I hear him softly start to speak and then stop himself.
"I don't know how long I can keep doing this." Elliot says. His voice sounds full of defeat.
"Doing what?" I ask. At this point, he could be talking about a number of different things.
"Hockey…" he says as I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. "It’s everything I've always wanted, to win the Stanley, but I don't know if I am cut out for it."
"You are cut out for this, I promise," I say. "The team had a rough game, but everyone will bounce back."
"But what if I can't! The fate of our season is on me. The boys can have an amazing game, but if I don't defend the net, it's all for nothing. I can't let them down like that." Elliot says as he gets to his feet and starts pacing.
I give him an incredulous look, "That's not fair, and you know it." Shaking my head, I go on, "You are just being dramatic. Sit your ass down and calm down."
Elliot stops and looks at me. At first, he looks pissed, but then he bursts out laughing. For the first time all night, he has a smile on his face.
"Fine." he sits back down and leans back. "But I will only calm down if you let me be the little spoon."
"Deal."
We lie together, and for the rest of the night, I talk him off his ledge. We open up about his fears and hopes for the rest of the series. I open up about how I'm excited to be back in New York. All of the pieces feel like they fit together perfectly. But we both know that there is a hurricane coming that will blow all of our perfect pieces away.
Elliot is still quiet when we wake up the next morning, but he slowly comes out of his shell as the team starts practicing. By the time Game Four comes around, he, along with the rest of the team, seems ready. The guys hit the rink, and they have a different story to tell than that of Game Three. The team bounces back with a vengeance, determined not to let the series slip away. Elliot is a wall in the net, making save after save, his focus razor-sharp. When the final buzzer sounds, they have secured the win and ensured they play another game. I can feel the relief and joy of the entire team. I watch as they celebrate on the ice, and pride for Elliot swells in my chest. I knew he could do it.
As we travel back to Arizona for Game Five, there is a renewed sense of purpose. There is a big sigh of relief from everyone on the team, beyond just the players. Since there is so much travel involved now, there is more time between each game that the team advances to. Everyone is ready to get back to Arizona and rest before the next game. My time before Game Five with Elliot is unlike anything else. We steal moments together, sharing quiet conversations and supportive glances. Everyone is working toward the common goal of winning and advancing the series.
The final buzzer sounds, marking the end of Game Five, and a heavy silence falls over the arena. The Red Wolves lost, and it is a bad loss, plain and simple. The team got too cocky, letting their early victories inflate their egos, and it came back to haunt them. The players skate off the ice with their heads down, the weight of the loss evident in their slumped shoulders. As I watch them, my heart aches for Elliot. He has given everything, and now, he looks utterly defeated. The usual postgame chatter is replaced with a quiet reflection. This loss is a harsh reminder that the road to victory is far from over.
As the plane touches down in New Jersey for Game Six, there is an aura exuding from each player of pure, unadulterated electricity. Coming straight off a tough loss, the team kicked it into overdrive in order to prepare for a win. Everyone is pushing themselves to the brink, and it’s going to pay off. The conversations around me are full of personal commitments to push harder, play smarter, and leave the ice with a win. I know everyone is on the brink of their limits, but something feels different, like their edge promises results. As a reporter, watching this shift is exhilarating. The resolve in their eyes tells me this game is going to be pivotal, and I am ready to capture every moment of it.
Game Six in New Jersey is an auditory assault; the Reapers fans unleash a deafening roar, rallying behind their home team with an intensity that vibrates through the arena. There is a strong sense of animosity, each cheer a clear message of disdain aimed at the Red Wolves. Yet, this hostile environment only fuels the Red Wolves. They harness the energy, converting every boo and jeer into a reason to push harder, to play with more heart and grit. When the clock hits 00:00 sealing the Red Wolves' victory, the arena's atmosphere shifts. You can hear a pin drop before the small contingent of Red Wolves fans that traveled for the game lose their minds in celebration. My eyes meet Elliot’s across the ice. His smile reaches me through the distance, a silent yet profound moment of connection that resonates deeper than the clamor around us.
The team packs up and takes a red eye back to Arizona for Game Seven immediately after the game. The team is already jacked up from their win. The idea is that they’ll be able to take a day to rest once we get to town before they start to prepare for the last game of the series. At this point, I'm just going where I’m told, following directions. All of this is new to me and luckily, I have Rachel as a lifeline to give me directions when I feel completely lost in a sea of people way more prepared than I am. This is my last time traveling with the team, and it is more bittersweet than I could have imagined.
Time is literally flying by, and I kinda wish I could make it slow down. We're a night away from Game Seven. Elliot is out with the team for the season’s last team dinner and meeting before heading back to their rooms to get a good night's sleep before the big game. I’m not sure how the night will go, but I have high hopes for one last pregame ritual. There is a lot riding on Elliot going into tomorrow. I keep to myself, finish up my prep for tomorrow's interviews, and decide to go get my nails done as a distraction.
As I'm heading back toward the hotel, my phone goes off.
: Where are you?????
: I was expecting you
to be in my bed when I got back.
Ziggy: Wow, the world
does not revolve around
you and your bed.
I had to get my nails done.
: Oh, well,
if that is the case.
I can't let the fate of
my performance in
Game 7 get in the way
of your new nails.
: Shame on me.
Ziggy: Exactly.
I'm so glad you
understand.
: So, what time
will you get up here?
Ziggy: No clue.
I know I shouldn't mess with him the night before the game, but I just can't seem to help myself. Giving him a hard time just feels so us. I put my phone back in my purse and head up to Elliot's room, ignoring the mass influx of messages from Elliot.
Knowing that he is there, I knock on the door and wait for him to answer. Elliot yanks the door open quickly. The sight of him takes my breath away. Gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a backwards Red Wolves flat bill hat covering his hair and that damned mustache, perfectly combed. All of his tattoos are on full display. The need between us crackles in the air. He looks me over, his eyes dark with desire.
"About time," he says, moving out of the way and letting me inside. I move deeper into the room, setting my bag on his bed.
"So what color are those nails of yours going to be as they grab my dick," Elliot asks from behind me.
I laugh, turning around to catch him just as he moves to rest his hands above him on the door frame, leaning into the room. My breath catches as my eyes roam down his side. Is that what I think it is? I take a step closer.
"Hey, Zig, I was just kidding. Sorta." Elliot says, looking a little nervous at my silence.
I reach out my hand and trace a tattoo that I have not noticed before. It's nestled in with the rest of the scene on his side. I don't even know what made me notice it this time.
"What is that?" I ask him. Suddenly, I am full of nerves and afraid of the answer. I pull my lip between my teeth and roll it back and forth.
"It's a shark and his barnacle", Elliot says, his eyes dark, almost dangerous looking.
"Why did you get that?" I ask.
Elliot leans closer, "You know why I got it, ma belle et sauvage Anatife."
Instinctively, my nails scratch down his skin over the tattoo. My actions elicit a response from him. Elliot reaches out, one hand around my head, the other around my waist and down my ass, pulling me closer. His mouth finds mine, his tongue urging me to let him in. I immediately surrender to him, my body wanting nothing more than to be near him. Touched by him, teased, and used by him.
I pull away from him, dropping down on my knees to run my hands up his thighs, my fingers finding the band of his sweatpants. I pull them and his boxers down so he is completely naked for me. I watch as his erection grows, itching to touch him and put him in my mouth. I move my hands higher, finding the base of him, and place a gentle kiss on the tip before taking him fully in my mouth.
I don't last long down there, with his hard length in my mouth, playing with his piercings before he pulls me up to stand. His hands roam my body, lifting my shirt off and throwing it to the side. He quickly spins me, pressing his erection into my back. He moves his hands back down my body, stopping to pull at my nipples and massage the skin on my chest, before continuing down to unbutton my jeans. I kick off my shoes and help him ease my pants off my hips and to the floor.
I go to move to the bed, but he stops me, pulling me flush with his chest. In my ear, I hear him growl. His fingers move to my center, gently rubbing, applying no pressure. Teasing me with a feathery touch. He palms my entrance, pulling me tightly to him, his hard cock now resting on my ass. I can feel each of the barbels against my skin. My god, I want to feel them inside of me.
I wiggle my ass against him, hoping that he takes the bait and devours me. His palm still resting firmly against my slit, he moves it ever so slowly down an inch before slipping a finger inside. His finger moves in and out a time or two before spreading my arousal to my clit. Using his palm to provide delicious pressure, he moves in a circle while pressing a second finger into me. He fucks me with his fingers until I am a panting mess, begging him to fuck me.
"Please give me your cock, Elliot! I need to feel you." I grind out as he continues to finger fuck me.
Giving me a swift swat on the clit and a kiss on the neck, he turns me around and pushes me back on the bed.
"Since you asked so nicely," Elliot says, reaching for a condom.
"Wait, don't. I want to feel all of you." I say, grabbing his wrist. "I have an IUD, and I haven't been with anyone but you since my ex. And I confirmed he didn't give me any diseases."
"I get tested regularly with the team." Elliot says, standing back up, "And there is only you."
Elliot's eyes don't leave mine, waiting for my direction. I give him a smile, "I need to feel you."
"This is it," he said, his voice low and rough. "Once I fuck you bare, we are never going back."
I nod, my breath hitching as he climbs on the bed, easing me back onto the pillows. His mouth captures mine, hungry and pleading for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming. Elliot adjusted his frame so he is seated at my entrance, entering me slowly, the sensation of him without any barriers sends shivers through my body. If the feeling of his piercings with a condom was great, then this is next level. I might have died and gone to heaven. There he is, touching me in places I've craved, giving me everything that I’ve wanted and needed. He moves with deliberate precision. Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge.
"You're going to feel every inch of me as I fill you up with my cum," he growls, his voice a dark promise. "You take me beautifully, just like everything else that you do."
Elliot's words bring a whole new level of pleasure to the experience. My walls start to tighten, the fullness of him building up the pressure in my core until it erupts through my body. The orgasm courses through my body as I scream out his name. His movement become more erratic as he works, thrusting in and out of my clenching pussy, chasing his own release.
"That's it, Anatife. I'm going to claim you forever." Elliot growls as he comes, pressing his hips into mine. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he says as he pulls out of me and collapses on top of me, panting.
"You were right. We can never go back after that." I say, trying to wiggle out from underneath him as the weight of him crushes me into the mattress.
"Where do you think you’re going?" Elliot asks, rolling to his side. He presses his leg between mine to widen the space and leaves it there to hold me into place.
His fingers find their way to my quivering pussy, pushing our mutual pleasure back into me. The sensation is overwhelming, and I cry out, my body trembling with need. Elliot doesn't stop, his fingers working me relentlessly as he continues. Curling his fingers into me, he teases my inner walls. The intensity of our connection brings tears to my eyes.
Elliot pushes me to the brink, and over it. I feel him pressing what's left over from our mutual releases deep inside me. His finger filling me up and using his release from earlier to work them in and out of my aching muscles feels incredible. What little control I have left shatters as my inner muscles strangle his fingers. The orgasms he gives me are the perfect culmination of our shared desire. We stay like that for a while, limbs tangled, our breathing heavy and synchronized. He uses my body in every pleasurable way he can until his strength returns, and he fucks me into the mattress again, pumping his release into me as if he can't get enough.
“Now that you know how much of a slut I am for watching my cum leak out of you, you are going to have to beat me off with a stick.” Elliot grits out as he stills inside me.
When we finally pull apart, Elliot presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "You're everything, Ziggy," he whispers, his voice full of emotion.
I don't know what to say. There is nothing I can say. Instead, I say nothing at all and snuggle into him until I am perfectly content. Letting the sounds of his deep breaths and gentle snoring lull me to sleep.
The next day, the team is back on the ice for Game Seven. This is the end. Everything the Red Wolves have been working toward is coming to fruition today. By proxy, I am also celebrating my own victory by making it through the season. I should be on the edge of my seat, nervous or even sad that this is the last game, but instead, I feel a strange sense of calm. Whatever happens, I know the Red Wolves are ready, and as the puck drops, the Final Series is within their reach. All they have to do is grasp it.