Chapter 25
JAMIE
LAVENDER BEANIE
The weather couldn’t have been better for an outdoor game.
Jamie stood in the tunnel at one end of Camp Randall Stadium, shifting his weight between his skates, tapping his stick against his shins, looking up at the vivid blue sky stretching above the stands.
It was cold enough to keep the ice in good shape, but not so cold that it would impact their bodies.
Somewhere, in the suite with the WAGs and other family, Tyler and Rowan were with his mom and Dotty.
His dad and step-mom had splurged on seats closer to the ice.
His family, and now, for the first time, a man who’d chosen him, were all there to support him.
A man who believed that what Jamie had to offer was enough.
A man with a son who, he imagined, maybe someday could call his own.
The stadium already felt electric. There was a tangible excitement in the air, the stands crawling with orange and green as fans found their seats to watch the teams make their entrance
The guys around Jamie must have felt it too. Matty was jumping up and down, puffing out breaths, while Ollie was…Was he really dancing?
Even the vets had an antsy energy about them. Not all of them had been on the team when they won the cup, or when they had made their deep playoff runs a few years ago. There was something gained from playing under that kind of pressure. A trust in yourself and the team that was hard to explain.
But now, as they waited to walk out into the stadium, it was Jamie’s job to try.
“Get over here, boys!” His voice echoed in the tunnel.
The guys jostled to form a loose circle around him, their bodies bumping together as they shifted to make space for Onni and Anders in their goalie gear.
Once they were somewhat settled, Jamie took a moment to look around at all of them–Finn, Bailey, and Onni, who had the future of the franchise riding on their shoulders, the new trades like Carter and Emīls, and the old guard, Sergei, Hugo, Zach, and Mitchy, who’d spent their entire careers with the Muskies.
They had the chance to do something special out there today.
“There’s a shit-ton of people out there,” Jamie began.
The guys chuckled. He felt a grin tugging at his mouth.
“No, really. Not only do we get to go out there and play the sport we love, but we get to do it in front of people who love the game as much as we do.” The guys nodded along with him.
“But you know who I want to play for today? I want us to play a damn good hockey game for each other. I want to play my ass off because that’s the way I say thank you to you guys for having my back.
” He pointed a glove at Anders. “I’m going to block some shots to say thank you for being the top goalie in the league.
” Mitchy whooped, and tapped Anders on the helmet.
“I’m going to work my ass off on the forecheck so one of you fast kids–” he pointed between Esa and Cooper, his younger, faster linemates– “can pick off a pass and get us a goal.” All the guys cheered now, and it was like the nervous energy had transformed into something targeted, a ravenous hunger to get out there on the ice and play.
“Let’s go out there and play hard, do the things we know work, and have each others’ backs because we love each other, okay? ”
“Let’s go, Cap!”
A heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders as a hand clapped him on the back. He wasn’t sure who kissed his helmet or tapped their stick against his. All he knew was he was smothered in the guys, surrounded by team, and he knew they were ready.
The first goal was a fluke.
Jamie had been sliding across the crease, working to get position on the Minnesota D-man in front of the net, when a shot fired from Pauly from the top bounced off his ass and over the goalie’s glove.
Jamie threw his hands into the air when the horn blared, skating hard for Pauly. It wasn’t until his teammates jumped onto him that he realized he had been the one to score the goal.
“Dat ass, though!” Mitchy had shouted at him as he skated by the bench to high-five his teammates.
Five minutes into the first period and the Muskies were up 1-0, thanks to Jamie’s ass goal.
Minnesota wasn’t making it easy on them, though–they’d earned the top spot in their division for a reason.
Their first line center, Pavel Egorov, was a Russian player who was having a career high season in points, leading the league in even-strength goals.
Jamie’s line was matched up against his. When Egorov was on the ice, it was Jamie’s job to shut him down.
Egorov had only managed to get two shots on goal so far, so Jamie figured he was doing alright. His body felt good–his hand was strong, and his legs were just warming up, welcoming the burn.
Their lead didn’t last long–a tripping call against Carter put Minnesota on the power play, and they got a quick goal.
“We’ve got this, boys,” Jamie called down the bench before climbing over the boards.
He skated out to center ice, lining up for the face-off against Egorov. The Russian player grinned at him. “We heard you were bad now, Sullivan. This is not true.”
Jamie let out a loud laugh, shaking his head as he popped his mouthguard out of the side of his mouth. “Sorry to disappoint,” he replied.
The ref approached and dropped the puck.
Jamie won the face-off.
He was reminded of why he loved hockey as he slammed an unsuspecting Minnesota player against the boards, scooping up the loose puck and passing it up to Esa. Jamie sped down the ice, staying in position for a pass behind the play.
But Esa fed the puck to Elias in the middle, who hit Cooper backdoor for an easy goal.
Jamie shouted, his voice already going hoarse, and joined his teammates as they embraced Cooper. “Attaboy, Coop! Let’s keep it going!”
When the horn signaled the end of the first period, the guys made the long trek to their locker room. Spirits were high, and everyone was focused on doing what they needed to keep their bodies fresh. Jamie had a banana and an electrolyte drink, and worked his way around the room.
The guys looked good out there. They were all playing at their best. He didn’t need to do more than encourage them to keep it up. He avoided talking to Anders, settling for a stick tap to the goalies’ pads. Jamie had played with him long enough to know he preferred to be left alone between periods.
The second period passed in a blur. The energy from the crowd kept them all buzzing, and when Jamie scored again on a breakaway, he thought he was going to collapse under the weight of Mitch jumping into his arms.
“I’m not even out here trying to score,” he said, laughing as he pressed his helmet to his best friends’.
Sweat glistened on Mitch’s forehead as he grinned at Jamie. “You’re out here playing hockey, Sully. Sometimes playing hockey means shooting the damn puck.”
He thought about what Mitch said as he skated by the bench for another round of high-fives. Earlier in the season, he’d been desperate to score, constantly thinking about how he was going to get the puck in the net.
Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten the kind of play that had earned him his spot in the league. The kind of play that had earned him a captaincy.
Scoring chances came when Jamie played his game. When he played hard defense, when he did his job, scoring chances presented themselves. When he forechecked, giveaways happened.
“Hatty watch for the captain!” Ollie yelled from the bench, pointing his stick at Jamie.
Jamie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling.
Getting two goals was one thing, but a hat trick?
He snorted, amused. No fucking way was that going to happen.
His main job was to keep Egorov contained. He’d gotten a few good chances this period, and Jamie was determined to keep him pointless.
With three minutes left in the third period, the Muskies led by one goal.
Minnesota was pounding them, rotating between their top two lines, playing with tangible desperation as they did whatever they could to score. Jamie had forgotten he was capable of sweating this much, and he could barely keep his visor clear with all the condensation from his heaving breaths.
Minnesota transitioned the puck, and Jamie skated back on defense. He saw the moment the goalie took off for the bench, shouting “Empty net, boys,” as he picked up a forward, stretching his stick into the passing lane.
As soon as the extra skater joined them in their zone, Minnesota started working around the perimeter. They were patient, passing the puck, waiting for the Muskies to get out of position, hoping to draw them out until their defense inevitably broke down.
Jamie looked up at the clock. Two and a half minutes left.
Yeah, fuck that.
He trusted his teammates would have his back if he took a defensive gamble. If he played it right, it could win them the game.
The moment Egorov got the puck on his stick, Jamie skated at him hard.
It wasn’t the smart thing to do–it would have been easy for a guy to use Jamie’s momentum against him and skate past him toward the net.
But he managed to catch him off guard, and after only a few seconds of grappling, Jamie had the puck on his stick.
He skated hard down the ice, head on a swivel as he looked for a teammate to dish the puck to.
There was a flash of maroon in the corner of his eye–a Minnesota player coming at him.
He glanced around again, before looking ahead up the ice and–
The net was empty.
It was too easy, really. He slowed down just enough to drop the puck back on his stick. With an exhale, Jamie set his feet and took the shot from mid-ice.
He felt a desperate tap of the Minnesota players’ stick against his skate, but it was too late.