Page 100 of The Call-Up
He’s screaming from the top of his lungs in celebration. His mouth is wide open. His eyes are full of adrenaline and intensity as O’Shea and I come to join him, wrapping him in a hug. Behind us, Danton and Clemmers have their sticks raised above their heads, and from across the rink, Ivanov is skating towards us at full speed.
With that win, we’ve tied up the Stanley Cup Finals, sending everyone back to Buffalo for game five.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ryan
“You know,” Connor says to me as we face each other at the dot. I can barely hear him due to the sound of their fans roaring across the stadium. “I’m glad you guys won the last two games. It would have been a shame for this to have ended so quickly.”
“Yeah,” I say, smirking. “A real shame. With any luck, we’ll be back here again for game seven. A nice little treat for your fans.”
Connor lifts his gaze and stares right at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes as well as his easy smile. “Don’t go getting too cocky, Ryan,” he says then drops his gaze back down and wins the fucking face off.
“Goddamn it,” I grumble and go chasing after him.
I keep my eyes on the puck as the Blizzards move it back and forth between them. I’m waiting for the moment when someone passes it back to him so I can either intercept it, or level Connor to the ground.
Personally, I’d rather intercept the puck. Yes, I’m all taped up and feeling pretty good, but I’m not sure if my ribs can handle another hit from Gavin Marshal. There’s only so much the body can take.
But it looks like I will get a break, because Brandon, in a bold move, has poke-checked the puck out of Tavish’s possession. I see him take a second to track where Gavin Marshal is, then make the assessment he’s far enough away from me to pass the puck through traffic onto the edge of my stick.
I’m the farthest away from everybody and able to go on the breakaway towards the Blizzards’ net. It’s a one-on-one moment. Me against Ander Bouchard while everyone else tries to catch up with me and the puck.
He gets into position and stares me down. I know I can beat him. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Brandon has caught up with me; he’s way off to the side and heading towards the net, to a place Ander isn’t looking.
With Ander distracted, his eyes tracking me, fully expecting me to make the move, I fling the puck to the wall behind the net and to the right. Brandon makes a beeline for it, gets possession of the puck, then while Ander is figuring out where it went, Brandon skates with the puck behind the net and wraps around it to slip the puck in at the post on the left side.
“Oh, you little shit!” Ander yells out when he realizes what his brother just did.
Brandon cackles as he skates past him, making his way to me for a celebratory hug. That slick little wraparound goal is going to be running on everyone’s highlight reel for the rest of the week.
“Come on,” I say to Brandon as I pat him on the head. “Let’s go get your fist bumps from the team.”
Brandon is smiling from ear to ear as we skate down the line together. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him on the ice this entire series so far. When we take our seats on the bench, he looks at me.
“We might actually be able to win this,” he says.
“Fuck right we can,” I say and nudge him with my shoulder. “Keep hitting goals like that, there’s no stopping us.”
Brandon
Unfortunately, it turns out that there was stopping us.
After my goal, my brother locked in and didn’t let another one through. Then, of course, Connor went on a run and scored twice. They took game five two goals to one.
“We’ll get them in our barn,” Ryan says when we get back to our hotel room.
The team is spending the night in Buffalo, then flying back to St. Louis first thing in the morning. Luckily, we have two full days off before game six back at home. We need it. And I definitely think Ryan’s ribs need it. Even if he played tonight like he was perfectly fine.
He probably is. But I can’t help but be worried about him. I guess we’ve found the one downfall to dating your teammate. When one of you is injured, it’s hard to turn that worry off. It’s more personal than if we weren’t something more to each other.
“I’m just glad we can get some rest,” I say, sitting down on the bed. This is by far and away the most hockey I’ve ever played and every part of me is exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I love every minute of it. But I’m used to being in the off season by now. And I know Ryan is too, since he’s never made the playoffs before in his career. Crazy that we get to experience this first together.
He walks up to me and loosens my tie, then slips it over my head. He lets it dangle from his wrist while he unbuttons my shirt.
“Shouldn’t I be doing this for you?” I ask.
“Why?”
