Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Good Lord.
Ice.
Puck.
Laser goddamn focused.
The puck dropped and before it even hit the ice I pounced like a tiger. It flipped between us and landed behind Brenton’s skates, ricocheting a little. I had the size advantage on Brenton, and I was going to use it. I moved in behind him quickly, bent low, and snapped the puck backward, gaining control and sending it right over to Robbie in a quick shot.
I glided off in an instant, cutting my skates into the fresh, slick ice.
I watched them like a hawk. Twenty seconds in, Robbie snuck out a breakaway. He faked a shot to Nashville’s goal, got the goalie to drop, then slammed it forward.
“That’s in,” I said in a low voice, my adrenaline rising. But I watched as the puck missed by what must have been a fucking millimeter.
Reset.
For our summer league games, our sophomore defenseman Henry Newberg was just starting to find his legs. In the last couple of games he’d been hesitant, but tonight, he was ratcheting it up.
“We fucking win,” I said to him as I skated past. “All you need to think about.”
It was only another couple of minutes before I had the puck back to Robbie. I went wide and played patient, pulling in again only when I saw Nashville’s defense get out of position.
Robbie sent the puck my way and the world went slow. I had all of about two seconds before Nashville knew exactly what I was planning, and I couldn’t let it happen. I turned at a 90-degree angle and let the blade come down, cutting the air and sending the puck out to the end.
I watched it go straight over their goalie’s shoulder and… in.
“In!” I screamed and my teammates came down on me hard, roaring, too.
“That’s him,” Robbie said, smacking me on the back. “That’s him.”
I skated over to the glass and pounded it out, pumping my fist at the crowd as they all chanted: “Plow ‘em down! Plow ‘em down!”
My heart did a little somersault drop when I spotted a pair of pretty blue eyes. There he was, a few rows back, wearing a green flannel. Mason was standing and clapping, doing his best to act supportive even though I knew damn well he was seeing that puck as a Hostess cupcake.
I nodded at him, winked, and gave him a little bump on the glass before I skated off.
We played like fucking beasts for the next two periods. We were still up by one at the start of the third, and if anything I felt like I had more stamina by the end. I only started to falter when Newberg let a pass get intercepted a few minutes into the third, and Nashville was able to get a clean shot and score.
And then they scored again. Just a few minutes later.
I leaned my head back, staring up at the lights above and hearing a different part of the crowd go wild.
No, no, no.
They only needed a few more minutes on the clock to win. Nashville’s team was known for some insane comebacks, and they even went into shootouts at their last game, so tying it up wasn’t a guarantee either. Coach wasn’t happy, and he was barking about our defensive play, telling us to shape the fuck up.
“They’re not getting another point,” I told Robbie halfway through the third. “No mercy.”
My heart was racing. Things got bad for a minute, and Nashville had possession for an uncomfortably long time.
“Goddamnit,” I muttered.
I’d been doing well with ignoring Elliot all night. Now, I couldn’t afford to pretend he was just another body out on the ice. We were going to have to seriously make something happen to stop Nashville from soaring into an easy win.
“You got time,” I yelled to Elliot as I whipped past him, seeing that none of their players were on his ass. His eyes darted around, and he juked right before going left. A few seconds later one of Nashville’s guys spotted us and cut over to block Elliot, getting the puck up against the boards.
“Fuck is wrong with you, Sanocki?” Elliot bellowed as he lost control.
“He wasn’t there,” I said. “You had time, but you blew it.”
“You fucking blew it,” Elliot said. “Where have you been lately? Need your head checked? Need to go home to Mommy?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I told Elliot, trying to ignore him and keep focused on the damn game.
Soon after, I heard the ref’s whistle for something else. Someone on Nashville had gotten cocky with Newberg and pushed him to the ground, and a penalty was being called. The ref put him in the box, and as we waited, Elliot skated over to me like he was hunting me down.
“Not the Plow I know,” he yelled at me.
“What is with you guys?” Robbie said, coming up beside us. “Used to fuckin’ skip home after games because you guys played well together.”