Page 109 of Ethan

Of course, late in the third, when the Panthers pulled Bob, trying to pull even with them and make up the two-goal deficit, Niko made another shitty move, letting in a goal on the man disadvantage.

Even over the crowd, and the music, and everything reverberating through the arena, Ethan could still hear Charlie’s huff of frustration.

Charlie wasn’t that good of a penalty killer—he was too offensively minded—but Ethan wondered if that would be the next thing he tried to conquer.

He’d end up playing the whole goddamn game if he thought it would get the Bandits a win.

Still, theydidwin, time running out thirty seconds later, Hank actually pulling a good move on the second shift of the penalty kill team, clearing the puck and ending the game.

After, in the locker room, while Hank was getting dressed, Ethan walked up to him. “Knew you could nail that,” he told him, giving him a fist bump. Only their first game playing together, and they’d already scored together. Ethan was enough of a superstitious hockey player to believe that boded well. Not just for them on the ice, but off it, too. But then, he’d never really had any doubts about that.

A corner of Hank’s mouth quirked up. “I just put the shot in that you set up,” he said, modest as always.

“That’s bullshit, not everyone could get that shot where you did,” Ethan argued.

“Hey,” Hank muttered under his breath, “maybe if we can’t get the defense to do their fucking jobs, we can just score enough goals it doesn’t matter.”

“You guys weren’t bad,” Ethan defended. He leaned against the side of Hank’s stall.

On the other side of the room, Charlie and Max had their heads together as they broke down the game, already.

“We were fucking sluggish for the whole second.”

“You should be playing with Jonesy, not Niko,” Ethan said quietly after glancing around and checking that Niko was still in the showers.

Hank glanced up, his wet curls falling over his forehead. They were dark still, barely showing auburn even in the bright fluorescent light of the locker room. “And you should be on Max’s line.”

“Not you too,” Ethan complained. “I’mfine.”

“I saw what Tkachuk was doing to you. And Bennett,” Hank said flatly.

“That’s just their normal MO,” Ethan argued. “They do that shit toeveryone.”

“Maybe, but you can’t tell me that the shit nearly every team has been pulling is typical.”

“For a rookie? Yeah.” Ethan shrugged. “This is just how it is.”

“Yeah, okay, and smart teams pair their rookie up with a guy who’ll fuck them up if the opposition doesn’t cut it out. You should be with Max.”

“I don’t wanna be with Max,” Ethan muttered.

“And I haven’t earned a slot on the first pair, with Jonesey. Not yet. It’s the same thing,” Hank insisted.

But it wasn’t. Not really. Niko seemed to be teetering on the edge of his slump. He’d been almost listless out there tonight. And Hank wasgood.

Just his first game and he’d already scored a goal and made more than a few great defensive plays.

“Besides,” Ethan said, “it’s notupto me who I’m playing with.”

Hank just shot him a look. “Don’t even try that with me. You aren’t going to tell me if you allowed Charlie to work his Silas magic, that Coach wouldn’t just stick you on Max’s line?”

“I’m a center,” Ethan repeated. He was going to end up saying that in his goddamn grave.

“Taking a little help and letting Max protect you for a bit isn’tnotbeing a center,” Hank reminded him, but it still rankled.

And what rankled even more was on the way home, when Ethan pulled his phone out and checked his messages—no longer the most important thing he needed to do after a game because miraculously Hank wasright hereand not on the other end of the phone line anymore—there was a text from Avery to the bro-chat.

you should let Charlie work his magic. get you on Max’s line.