Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

Wes takes the puck and dekes the goalie one way before pushing the puck with one hand on his stick into the goal. When the light comes on, I throw my hands up.

That was a pass with a fucking purpose, as Posey Adler would say.

We all hug up, and the feeling of scoring on this damn power play is unreal. The whole crowd is screaming at the top of their lungs. We’ve struggled—they know and have been talking mad shit—but we gave them what they wanted. A power play goal. We skate toward the bench as our fight song plays before trading out with the second special team since we are still on the power play. I lean on the bench, sucking in air as Titov comes over and slaps me hard on the back.

“Smart play, Hoenes. Great fucking pass.”

I nod and look up at him. “You would even say, one with purpose?”

He gives me a pointed look. “Yes, smartass.”

I grin as I look back on the ice where my boys are fighting just as hard as we were. Time is winding down, but the boys are still pushing. The pressure is there, and we are getting so many chances. But apparently today, Ellizet has decided to be a good goalie. He never did that when I was with Jersey. When our line gets called out again, it’s just as Willy and Reeves are carrying the puck in. I wait at the line, and when the pass comes to me, I redirect it to Aiden, who, like the fucking boss he is, dekes around one player, totally spins around another one, brings the puck between his legs, and shoots it up and over Ellizet’s shoulder.

Talk about a gorgeous highlight-reel shot. Best play of the year? You’re damn right!

I basically lift the dude off the ice in my arms as we run into the boards from the guys all hugging. We’ve been fighting for this, and hell if we don’t need it for morale. We just wanted one, but we got two. As we skate toward our bench, the place is rocking. The team is pumped, the crowd is pumped, and I’m pretty sure Coach is, but he doesn’t ever change his face. He just chews his gum either really fast when he’s upset, or calmly when he’s happy. Right now, it’s calm. So, I assume we’re good.

When the buzzer sounds for the end of the period, we head off the bench on cloud nine. We could lose this game, and I would still feel like a winner. That fucking power play has been our mountain to conquer. We still have work to do, but we’re getting there. When we get into the locker room, I sit down and undress my top half to cool down. I put a towel over my shoulders to soak up my sweat as I down a whole bottle of water. Wes and his baby bladder rush to the bathroom. I swear the dude pisses at least nine times a game. It’s insane. I don’t pee but maybe once, and that’s only if I really have to. Right now, I’m good, and as the nice cold air hits my burning body, I close my eyes and let out a long sigh. Coach is proud, telling us how we impressed him that period and how he wants more. I can do that. I’m a fucking beast.

But then I hear her voice.

My eyes fly open, and there she is, standing right outside of the Assassins emblem wearing some fuck-me-stupid high boots that go to her thighs. Her black skirt hits right above them, showing just enough skin to make it real hard to cool off. The purple blouse she’s wearing is loose and billowy, and she’s got a black scarf at her neck. There is only that little bit of skin showing at her thigh, and fuck, she might as well be naked with how my pistons are revving up. Her hair is down, curled, the deepest color auburn I have ever seen. She wears dramatic makeup, her lashes long, and her lips a candy-apple red. She stands there with such purpose. Owning the room. The fact that she can do that in skates or in heels is quite terrifying, to be honest. No telling how she is in the bedroom.

Aw hell, I’m so fucking hard, and the cup I wear is entirely too small.

“Like Coach said, I’m proud. You took what I gave you, and y’all executed. Exactly what I wanted. What a goal, Brooks. And Wes, wonderful shot. Great four minutes, boys. Way to play.”

Her eyes meet mine, linger, but divert quickly before she turns on those naughty red-bottomed shoes and heads out of the room.

I realize two things in that moment.

One, where is my recognition for my pass with purpose?