Page 166 of Over the Line

“Assisted by number seventy-four, Tee-moo Tehuitzil!”

Thanks to that utterly greasy goal by Liam and Temo, Pittsburgh had finally pushed past Montreal. They’d started out with a disastrous first period that ended with them down 3-0. In the next, though, they’d rallied, going into the second intermission 4-3. Still down, but only by a single goal.

And in the third, Vinnie, the backup goalie, was a brick wall. The fourth line had managed to tie the score. Then a frustrated Montreal forward had gone to the box for interference, and Pittsburgh had capitalized on that power play—fifteen seconds in, Liam gave the Phantoms their first lead of the night.

All they had to do now was hold that lead for the next six minutes. Ideally, widen the lead, but holding it would be just fine.

They had a few close calls. Liam took a hooking penalty, and Montreal finally had a chance to trot out their power play, which was fifth in the entire League. Then, twenty seconds in, disaster struck—Craws took a tripping penalty. A bullshit one that had the hometown crowd booing so loud it shook the fillings in my teeth, but a penalty nonetheless.

Now Montreal had a five-on-three man advantage, and everyone in the stadium was on the edge of our seats as they cycled, cycled, cycled, closing in on the exhausted penalty killers.

Sometimes the hockey gods had a cruel sense of humor. But sometimes…

Sometimes they came through.

A Montreal forward was in the perfect position to shoot… but his stick snapped in two.

Driscoll was on the puck like a cat on a laser pointer, and before the power play knew what was happening, he darted past a defenseman, skating out of the man’s long reach.

The goalie was poised and ready, and I could only imagine what was going through the young defenseman’s head in that moment. Whatever it was, it worked out—a second later, he had his first goal of the season. A shorthanded goal, to boot. I didn’t think I’d ever seen a player more ecstatic than he was in that moment, shouting as he banged himself off the glass behind the net.

It was also redemption—Drizz had made a disastrous turnover in the second period, which had led to a goal against. Perfect night to finally tally himself a goal.

Montreal still had the man advantage, though. They brought out their second power play unit, and Pittsburgh sent out three fresh penalty killers.

Thirteen seconds after the puck dropped, Montreal answered Drizz’s shorty with a power play goal. Liam came out of the box, but Craws still had forty seconds left, and Montreal capitalized. Now the score was 5-5 with thirteen minutes left to play.

Twelve minutes later…

“One minute remaining in the period,” the announcer said. “One minute remaining.”

“Oh God,” Ximena peered through her fingers at the action below. “They’re going into overtime, aren’t they?”

“Better than a loss,” Hannah said.

“For them, maybe.” Ximena fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

Hannah murmured in agreement.

I concurred; overtime was exciting as hell, but I was pretty sure Pittsburgh Phantoms three-on-three bonus hockey was singlehandedly keeping several cardiologists in business.

The buzzer sounded. Yep—overtime.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. The rest of the world could wait until this game ended.

Overtime was wild. Neither team was ready to lose this game, and they were up and down the ice, back and forth, vying for possession and trying to get a puck past a netminder. Both goalies were dialed in, making highlight reel saves one after the other.

After an intense shift, Liam and Temo peeled away. Chris and Craws came out, and Drizz sent the puck to Chris, who sprinted into the offensive zone. He fired on goal in what absolutely should’ve gone in—we were all on our feet, sure he’d just scored—but Montreal’s snatched the puck out of the air.

“Motherfucker,” I said breathlessly.

“That asshole,” Ximena growled.

There was an offensive zone faceoff, which Chris won. He passed to Drizz, who immediately passed to Craws. Craws circled like he was heading for the neutral zone, but then spun around and hauled ass toward the net.

A split second later, his top shelf shot sailed right past the goalie’s ear.

The crowd went nuts.