14. Wally #2
We grind through the rest of the first period. Every forty-second shift turns into a battle for ice position. The Bears trap us against the boards, throwing cheap shots whenever the refs turn their backs. We hit the locker room at the intermission tied at zero.
The second period starts with a shift in momentum.
I win another face-off in the defensive zone.
I snap the puck back to Graves. He banks a hard pass off the side glass.
I catch the rebound and spot Simon breaking out of the group near the right boards.
I whip a saucer pass over the sticks of two Heathstead players.
The puck lands flat on Simon's tape. He hits the blue line with explosive speed. He leaves the sluggish Bears' defense eating his ice shavings. He gets a clean breakaway toward the net.
Simon fakes left, dropping his shoulder to sell the move. The goalie bites hard on the deke. Simon pulls the puck to his backhand and chips it under the crossbar.
The hostile crowd falls quiet. The puck snaps into the back of the net, echoing across the ice.
Simon throws his arms up. Kel grabs him in a crushing hug against the glass. I skate over, slapping my stick against their shin guards. We take the lead.
The third period turns into a grueling battle of exhaustive shifts. The Bears pull out all the stops, throwing bodies at the net in a desperate attempt to tie the game.
The final two minutes stretch into an eternity. Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes. My lungs burn for oxygen. The Bears pull their goalie, adding an extra attacker to the ice. They swarm our net.
I tie up their center in the corner, pinning his stick against the boards with my body weight. The final buzzer blasts through the arena.
We survive the onslaught. The scoreboard flashes our narrow, one-goal victory.
I slump against the boards for a split second, sucking in a ragged breath. My entire body aches from the hits. Kel skates over and bumps his helmet against mine. Simon joins us, a tired but triumphant grin on his face. We just beat the defending champions on their own turf.
Silence fills the luxury hotel room. The adrenaline crash leaves us wrecked.
I sit on the edge of my plush king-sized bed, pressing a cold plastic ice bag against the swelling bruise on my shin.
The dull throb radiates up my leg, pulsing with every heartbeat.
It acts as a fierce reminder of the blocked slap shot from the third period.
The crisp scent of the hotel's expensive linen detergent battles the lingering smell of arena sweat clinging to our skin.
Kel sprawls out on the patterned floor rug. His broad frame takes up most of the walking space between the beds. He works a massage gun into his sore shoulder muscles. The machine hums a steady, monotonous rhythm against his skin.
Simon lies flat on his back on the adjacent bed. He stares at the textured ceiling with exhausted, half-open eyes. He kicks his dress shoes off, letting them hit the carpet with a dull thud.
"That game was a rough one." Simon stretches his legs out, popping his joints. "Number forty-two was out for blood."
"He got what he deserved." Kel turns the massage gun off, tossing it onto his duffel bag. "He learned his lesson about dirty cross-checks."
I toss the ice bag onto the nightstand, watching condensation drip onto the polished wood. I reach for my phone and unlock the screen. "Time to check in."
I hit Vayda's contact and switch the call to speakerphone. I toss the device onto the mattress between us. The line rings twice before she answers.
"Hey." Vayda's voice fills the quiet hotel room. The soft, exhausted warmth in her tone acts like a balm on my frayed nerves.
"Hey, sweetheart." I lean back on my elbows, sinking into the plush mattress. "We just got back to the hotel. We took the win."
"I know." She lets out a quiet, genuine laugh. "We watched the game. Brendan tracked you guys on the ice the entire time. Kel's hit was terrifying. I thought you killed that poor guy."
"He had it coming." Kel grunts from the floor. A smug smirk pulls at his lips. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his thick neck.
"How was your day?" Simon rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand to get closer to the phone. "Did the property management crew finish the concrete?"
"They did." Vayda lets out a long breath over the speaker.
"The new driveway looks incredible. It cures for the next few days.
We park on the street for now, but it's smooth.
The flat surface removes the tripping hazards.
Dave came over for Brendan's rehab session right after the crew left.
It was a rough one. His right arm seized up, but we pushed through it. "
"He's a fighter." I stare up at the ceiling fixture. "You both are."
A quiet breath vibrates through the speaker. She offers these details on her own. A few days ago, she fought us on everything. Now she gives us a glimpse into her daily routine.
My chest tightens. She spent weeks throwing up walls to shield us from her daily grind.
My gut says the threat of the rejection sickness hitting us forced her to change tactics.
She endured the agony on her own for years.
I figure the realization that rejecting the bond sentences three Alphas to the same fever woke her up.
Now we just have to prove we belong here.
"We plan to get the roof guys scheduled for next week." I shift my gaze back to the glowing phone screen. "Leave the crew to it. Just let them work."
"I will." She stifles a yawn over the speaker. "I need to get Brendan ready for bed. The excitement of the game wore him out."
"Get some sleep, you two." I run a hand over my face. "We fly back tomorrow morning."
"Safe flight." Vayda lets out a soft sigh. "Goodnight."
The call ends.
I set the phone on the nightstand. The screen goes black.
"She talked to us." Simon sits up on the bed. He drags a hand through his messy hair. "A week ago she tried to kick us out the second her heat broke."
"She thought she was protecting us." I stand up from the mattress. "I told her about the fever risk this morning before we left. The reality of us getting sick changed her mind."
"We fly back tomorrow." Kel drops his massage gun into his open duffel bag. “ We need to show up and prove we plan to stay."
"We follow her lead." Simon stands and stretches his back. "We step in when she asks for help. We give them space when they need it."
"We earn our spot." Kel zips his bag shut.
I nod, turning off the lamp on the nightstand. The hockey game is over. The real work starts tomorrow when we land. We need to earn her trust.