Chapter 38 #2
Ivanov is locked in tonight, that’s for sure.
He is stopping everything that the Blizzards are shooting at him.
As it stands, with this first period ending in less than a minute, he’s stopped fifteen shots on goal.
While that is impressive, that means that the rest of us haven’t been doing a good enough job of what Coach Chris told us we needed to do.
Play fucking defense.
I swear, I am trying. But the Blizzards, like their name, are relentless. Just wave after wave of bombardment.
And here comes another as Ryan wins the face off and sends the puck to me.
“Baby!” I hear Danton yell. “Heads up!”
I lift my head just in time to see Gavin Marshal coming towards me. I flick the puck away and brace myself for the hit.
With his force, he sends me over the boards, and into the Blizzards’ bench. And then, as I’m upside down, staring at his teammates’ skates below me, the asshole pats me on the butt before he skates away, leaving me hanging ass over tea kettle in his bench.
“Welcome to the big leagues, kid,” Tavish says as he climbs over the boards beside where I’m hanging, trying to get myself out.
Finally, I get my hand onto one of their players’ knees and use it as leverage under my hand to push myself up and out. When my skates hit the ice again, I take off. Looking around, I try to track the puck.
The Blizzards have it. Connor is skating towards our net. Gavin is standing in front of Ivanov, screening his view.
I see the play before it even happens. Connor winds up and flicks it top shelf, right past Ivanov’s ear. It’s in the back of the net before Ivanov’s even registered it was shot.
“Fuck!” I yell out, but nobody hears it as my voice is drowned out by the sound of the Blizzards’ goal horn.
Ryan
Maybe what we needed was for Connor to score that goal.
Because now, as we skate into the third period, the score remains one to zero.
Sure, we haven’t scored, but more importantly, they haven’t either since we finally locked into a more defensive style during the second period like Coach Chris wanted us to.
Now, when the Blizzards are attacking our net, we’re all right there skating in their way. Using our bodies to block shots before Ivanov has to. All he needs to do is stay sharp for the ones that we can’t get to.
Like right now. Tavish has just passed the puck to Connor, who is winding up at the circle. His stick is back, ready to collide with the puck once it reaches him.
I dive. And before my body hits the ice, I feel that puck hit my hip with a thud.
As it bounces off of me, Brandon tracks it and gets his stick on it. He takes off, crossing into the neutral zone and then all the way to the Blizzards’ net.
Ander crouches. Ready to stop whatever Brandon shoots at him.
Everyone on our bench is on their feet, leaning over the boards.
I hold my breath. Please, let him score. Let him tie this up.
He fakes right, spins left, then without any windup, flicks the puck. It pings off the side of the crossbar, then slips in behind Ander’s back.
Brandon skates around the back of the net with his stick raised above his head.
I skate to him as fast as I can, then slam him into the boards as we hug. O’Shea is right behind me, followed by Danton, then Clemmers.
When Danton gets to him, he grabs onto his shoulders and stares right at him. “Sorry, Ryan,” he says. “But now I understand why Connor kissed Gavin at center ice.” He pulls Brandon to him and kisses the top of his helmet in the most dramatic fashion.
“Settle down, Cap,” I say, laughing. “Save your kisses for when we win this thing.”
“Or,” Brandon says, looking completely flustered.
His cheeks are bright pink, and I highly doubt it’s from exertion.
“Nobody kisses anybody at center ice.” He shakes his head, smiles, and begins to skate away to go get his fist bumps from the rest of the team on the bench.
Over his shoulder, he shouts at us, “You’re all terrible. ”
“He does have a point, though,” I say. “We should keep our kisses reserved for after we’ve won the game.”
Danton looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you saying you’d share?”
“Fuck, no,” I laugh then push him.
“Good,” he says, and pushes me back. “Because as much as I like the both of you, neither of you are my wife. And I can’t wait to kiss her over the Stanley Cup.”
Brandon
The clock seems to be moving backwards the closer we get to the end of the third period. I would give anything for us to score a goal right now. The last thing I want is for this game to go into overtime.
Wait. Scratch that. The last thing I want is for the Blizzards to score right now. Which is what sends me into the boards to hit Tavish right as Kennedy passes him the puck.
With the puck loose, I chase after it. Ryan gets a hold of it before I do and goes skating towards the net. I look up at the clock. Eight seconds. Just enough time for him to make a play.
I skate to catch up with him. O’Shea is right behind me.
Ryan passes me the puck as the Blizzards defense closes in on him. I wind up, ready to hit the puck as soon as it gets close.
Thwack! I hit it with all my might. It goes flying towards the net. I stand in disbelief as I watch it soar, then drop my head as I watch my brother’s gloved hand pluck it out of thin air before it crosses over the goal line, into the back of the net.
The sound of the period ending rings through the stadium.
Fuck. We’re going to overtime.
Sudden death. Whoever scores the next goal stops the clock, and wins this wholesale without the opposing team even getting a chance to come back.
This battle has now become a full-on war.
Who can withstand the extra time? Who still has the legs?
Who still has the will to carry their team to victory?
Ryan
“There’s nothing like a game seven,” Connor says to me as we ready ourselves for the face off.
“Didn’t you lose the last game seven you played?” I ask, remembering last season’s finals where the Blizzards beat Connor and his old team, the Chicago Broad Wings.
He stares right at me, blue eyes twinkling. “At least I’ve played in one.”
“Shots fired!” Tavish says from where he’s waiting on the right wing behind Connor.
“Now, now,” Danton says. “There’s no need to be nasty. We’re just playing a hockey game here.”
“Cap,” I say. “I love you. You’re a great captain. But please shut up.”
He laughs out loud as I crouch down, readying myself for the face off.
“Atta boy,” Danton says. “Let’s get this done.”
And get this done, I do. The puck doesn’t even hit the ice before I have my stick blade on it. But this time, instead of kicking it out of the circle, I spin around with it attached to my stick and start skating away.
This move alone has confused everyone on the Blizzards.
Gavin stops in his tracks on his way to body check Brandon, who is usually my go-to target to send the puck out of a face off.
So now, Gavin has to change direction which has bought me some time and space to get the puck in the Blizzards’ defensive zone.
I want to end this game. Right now. I don’t want this win to continue to linger just out of our grasp.
The longer overtime goes on, the harder it’s going to get.
We’re already gassed. We’re already bumped and bruised.
This game can be over in an instant. I want that instant to be now. It’s so close I can taste it.
My linemates have caught up to me. But so have the Blizzards. There are skaters everywhere and all of us are trying to keep an eye and a stick on the puck.
In front of me, I see Danton coming in for the screen. I wind up, and shoot the puck, aiming directly for the space Ander has left open between himself and the left post.
Right as I’m about to see the puck go in, Ander’s leg comes out of nowhere.
He stops the puck clean with his leg pad.
It bounces off of him and to my horror, it lands right onto the tape of Connor’s stick.
Kennedy takes off and Gavin makes his presence known by getting in the way of anyone who can even get close to coming near him.
He crosses the blue line into our zone first. Gavin chooses to leave me be, but makes his way to the front of our net to both screen Ivanov and be prepared for a rebound if Connor’s shot doesn’t go in.
I reach as far as I can with my stick. I’m so close but also too far.
Mere inches away from being able to lift Connor’s stick and get the puck away from him.
Connor makes a sharp turn, then doubles back once he’s shaken me away from him. Then with grace and ease, he slips the puck past Ivanov’s outstretched leg. It hits the back of the net with a soft tap.
It’s over. I drop to my knees as blue, black, and white confetti falls from the stadium’s ceiling.
Brandon
The guttural scream I hear ring out across the ice sums up exactly how I feel at this moment having watched that goal go in.
I look forward, expecting to see Ivanov absolutely losing his shit. But he’s slumped forward in front of the goal, silent as can be.
Maybe it’s Ryan who let out that cry. But when I see him, he’s on his knees, a few feet in front of the net with his head hanging.
Not far from him is the source of the scream.
It’s Kennedy. And I can’t look away as I watch him become more and more overwhelmed with emotion.
His scream is somehow both celebratory and angry.
It’s hard to watch. Thankfully, I don’t have to watch it for long, because it takes a split second before Gavin has him held in a tight embrace.
The two of them stand there, completely unguarded as the world watches them in victory together again.
But this time, no one is ripping Gavin away.
And Connor’s father is no longer holding his son in his vice-like grip.
This victory for Connor has always been about more than just the damn Stanley Cup.