Page 56 of Offensive Edge
“I think any team Theo is on has a chance to make it this deep in the postseason,” Rowan said, eliciting Theo’s eye roll.
“Whatever the circumstances of his decision, we’re just glad he’s here. It’s always been a privilege to be on the ice with him. I’m just grateful we get to wear the same jersey out there now,” Theo added.
“We will find out in two days whether you will be up against the Storm or the Golden Eagles. Are you hoping for one over the other?”
“Both have had strong seasons,” Theo said.
“What do you think the primary challenge is going to be?”
“Flying coast-to-coast. That time zone switch is never fun,” Rowan said. Some guys dealt with the jet lag just fine, but Rowan never had. He always tried to wake up and go to sleep on West Coast time, but the three-hour time difference could make that nearly impossible when they were that far out east.
“I just hope my legs still work by the end of it,” Theo said. The reporters dispersed and went to find Sammy, who had put on quite the goalie clinic that night. He was a huge reason they were as far into the playoffs as they were.
Theo was just grateful to be left alone. He and Rowan collapsed back into their stalls. Rowan kept his arm around Theo’s shoulders. He was tired, and let his forehead rest on Rowan’s shoulder.
“I need a thousand naps.”
“I need a thousand something elses,” Rowan countered.
“I highly doubt you’re up for even one something else,” Theo said. Rowan’s lackluster laugh meant he was correct. After the first time they had sex, Theo thought they wouldn’t be able to even stay clothed around each other, but now it felt like they were in a holding pattern until this was all over. He needed a shower and a meal, and then he was going to pass out. If they were lucky, they would have enough energy for sleepy handjobs the next morning.
CHAPTER28
THEO
Theo was having an out-of-body experience.Game seven of the Stanley Cup finals on home ice was a dream he never thought he would experience. And they hadn’t gotten there unscathed. Like most of his team, Theo was banged up just from the intensity of play over the course of the last four rounds. Rowan was dealing with a high ankle sprain that he’d suffered in the first game of finals, and even so, he was still playing better than anyone else on the ice. Tommy was playing with a broken foot. Fiko had a separated shoulder. Theo was grateful for his sore muscles and the bruises on bruises he had.
He hadn’t expected the Stanley Cup finals to be easy, but the last six games had been the hardest six hockey games he had played in his life. The Carolina Storm was frighteningly good that year, with a goalie who seemed impossible to score on at some points. Four games had gone into overtime. Game six had gone into double overtime, and Theo was still tired from it, even as he forced himself to summon the energy to fight for the puck, fight for chances, fight for the Cup.
Whenever he felt tired, he just looked at Rowan’s face, and knew they had to do it for Rowan and his extremely shitty playoff beard. He wanted to win with his whole team, obviously. But Rowan Foley, Generational Talent™ had been carrying the weight of this trophy on his shoulders his entire adult life. Once he won, he would be a Stanley Cup Champion forever. And then Rowan could start living his life for himself, and not for the expectations of the hockey world.
Rowan wouldn’t say it out loud, but Theo knew he felt trapped by that expectation.
They were the first to score, a short-handed goal Vic scored from the blue line that felt like a total fluke, but it sure got the energy in the building going. In the three seasons he had been a Serpent, he had never felt their arena feel this alive.
The mood was dampened when the Storm got a puck past Sammy, a greasy goal that got reviewed, but was ultimately a good goal. It was barely three minutes later when the Storm scored again, and they headed into the locker room after the first period down by one.
“I know none of us have played hockey like this before in our lives,” Rowan said, voice projecting out into the room as the guys tried to hydrate and eat energy gel packs to keep themselves going. “We may never play this well again, so we’re going to go out there and make it count. I’ve seen every one of you out there pulling your weight, as we have collected all of those pucks”—he pointed to the Cup-shaped display, with fifteen game-winning hockey pucks in their slots—“and I know we are going to get that last puck. Tonight, we leave it all out on the ice.”
Theo felt chills go down his spine as he sat in his stall, in awe of Rowan. None of them at the moment looked like they were about to go achieve the highest of athletic performances, though. Theo was trying to figure out how to squeeze more rest out of their eighteen minutes between periods, so his legs didn’t feel like jelly when they went back out there for the second. A couple of guys were with trainers getting their legs shaken out. Sammy was meditating in the corner, looking like a little turtle in his goalie pads.
Rowan’s face was bright red and covered in sweat, his hair black from moisture and plastered to his head. He’d shed his jersey and elbow and chest pads, and his undershirt was hanging off of him moistly. But when Rowan turned his smile to Theo, nothing else mattered. He knew they had this on lock.
Theo scored in the last two minutes of the second period, a slick little wrister that was too nice for how wrung out he felt. His body was running on fumes, but his brain had never been more exhausted from how hard he was thinking about every second he spent on the ice. Every shift, every game, every round. That shot was muscle memory. The fact that the Storm’s goalie was just as tired as he was also helped.
They went into the third tied. Tied in the third period of game seven of the finals. Jesus. Theo didn’t know how they were going to get through the next twenty minutes. No matter what happened, he would have to sleep for a week after this game.
He won the opening face-off, and all of his tension melted away. It was just hockey. He was playing hockey with his boys, and he had never been in a group of people who played as well together as the Serpents had this season. He felt clarity.
When he tumbled onto the bench after his first shift, he could tell his teammates were slipping into the same mindset. They could deal with their physical bodies later. Right now, they had to lean into the connection they had on the ice, and—though it was the worst hockey cliche ever—playtheirhockey.
Halfway through the third, they were still tied 2–2. Theo was looking for a passing lane to get the puck on his stick to Rowan when Sebastian Denary, the literal biggest player on the Storm, smashed Theo into the boards. He felt something happen in his shoulder that did not feel right. He was lucky that his shift was ending. When he got back on the bench, he headed down the tunnel with a trainer, who quickly assessed that his shoulder had been popped out of the socket.
And, well, Theo was a hockey player. It was the finals, and the Stanley Cup was in the building with them. He didn’t think too hard as he consented to the trainer popping it back into the socket right there in the hallway. He was back on the bench for his next shift.
“Okay?” Rowan asked.
“Fine,” Theo told him, pushing the pain down to deal with later. He’d tell him more after the game. He rolled his shoulders and pushed them back, testing his joint. It was as good as he was going to get. He knew Rowan was playing on an ankle that he currently was barely walking on. He had nothing to complain about.
