Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

“I feel sick,” Zach mutters, staring at the rink from between his fingers. “They have to win, right?”

God, I hope so. The tension in the crowd is getting thick, and when the players skate back out for the final period, I can’t sit still.

This can’t be Richie’s last game.

Both teams fight hard.

They take shots on goal, almost one for one, but the defense on both sides are working their asses off.

Jacobs finally sinks one, evening the score, but I don’t feel any relief. If they go into overtime, it’s sudden death. One goal to win it all. Or lose it all.

When the timer runs down and neither side scores, my heart sinks. The players leave the ice and go back to the locker rooms for another intermission.

They have to be exhausted and defeated. I want to go back there and give Richie a hug, but I can’t.

“Am I too young to have a heart attack?” Zach asks, rubbing his chest.

I turn to my best friend with a smile. “Admit it. You love hockey now.”

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Not buying that’s all it is.”

“Okay, I might finally understand what it’s like to have a competitive side.”

“Aww, that’s so cute.”

His cheeks turn red in the most predictable way.

When the team comes out for the overtime period, they look ready for a fight, but so do UMass.

Come on, guys. You’ve got this.

They don’t got it. From the beginning, it’s a mess. Sloppy passes that sail right into a UMass player’s blade, one singular shot on goal which goes wide, and then the rest of the time is spent fighting for their lives in UMass’s zone.

It looks like it’ll all be over when CU’s goalie’s deked out of position. He takes a dive, thinking the UMass center is going for it, but he’s not. Now there’s a wide-open net.

Fuck, fuck, fu—

Beck jumps in front of the flying puck, and it bounces off his chest pads. He hits the ice with a thud, which looks and sounds painful, but they’re still in the game.

The amazing and unexpected save throws the UMass players, and in a split second, everything changes.

Jacobs gets the puck and passes to Asher, who passes to an unguarded Richie, and then my man flies down the ice on a breakaway.

I hold my breath and watch as he fires a bullet at the UMass goalie.

When the lamp lights up, I’m on my feet, cheering my heart out, and when Richie and Asher hug, there’s no lingering jealousy in me because I’m way too happy.

And relieved. At least until tomorrow when they have to do it all over again.

And I just have to hope that Foster comes through with the job, because when the day of Richie’s final game does come, I want him to have something to look forward to.

30

Cohen

There is no partying after the game even though we deserve it. We have to play Boston University tomorrow in the quarterfinals, and if we’re unrested and hungover, I can guarantee Coach will string us up by our balls. So will Jacobs and Beck.

They’ve turned into freaking hard-asses and won’t even let me sneak into Seth’s hotel room later. Easy for them to say when they share a room and can celebrate between themselves.

I’m rooming with Asher, and that fucker snores. I’m more likely to get a good night’s sleep next to Seth even if we can’t do anything because he’s rooming with Zach.

The game tonight was amazing, and I’m still buzzing. I’ve played some great hockey this season, and I hate that it’s almost over for me. Three games and the season is done. Less if we lose.

We better not lose.

But from the moment I wake up the next day, something feels off. Asher’s back to being his quiet self, and I’m unsettled. After team breakfast, we get on the bus and head for the arena for a practice skate, and the tightness in my gut worsens. Because I realize something.

“Where’s Beck?”

Jacobs and Coach share a glance.

“Beck won’t be playing tonight,” Coach says.

Everyone on the bus goes silent.

“He did something to his side last night when he dove in front of the puck,” Jacobs says. “He landed wrong. He’s all bruised and can barely walk today.”

I’d make a joke about it being a sex injury, but … fuck.

“So, we don’t have Beck,” I say. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine. It’s just shit timing.”

Really shit timing.

And his absence seems to bring the team down. The morning skate is only short to keep us warmed up for tonight’s game, but we’re sluggish. We’re skating like we all went out and got hammered last night.

We’re back in the locker room getting dressed to go have downtime when Coach Hogan tries to give us a pep talk.

“Our morale is low because we’ve lost Beck, but he’ll be better by the time the Frozen Four happens. It’s only one game we have to get through. One more game.”