by K R Collins
There’s adrenaline still humming under her skin—one hundred assists—and she’s definitely celebrating tonight.
She stays until the first wave of teammates head back, and splits a cab with Spitz and Big Red. As soon as she’s home, she flips the lock on her apartment door and pulls her shirt over her head. She tosses it on her floor and pops the button on her jeans. She has one leg freed and one leg still stuck when her phone rings.
She ignores it as she strips all the way down. It finally stops ringing, and she breathes a sigh of relief as she takes her vibrator out of her drawer. Then her phone rings again. She groans and snatches it off her bedside table.
It’s Dima calling which means she can’t silence her phone or she’ll end up with ten missed calls, six voicemails, and upwards of twenty texts.
“Hey,” she says.
“Not excited?” Dima asks. “Big point for you tonight.”
Normally, she loves talking hockey achievements with Dima, especially when it’s a milestone she’s hit before him, but she’s never been naked before when he called. She covers her vibrator with her blanket. “Of course I’m excited, but I’m home from the bar and, uh, celebrating.”
“Oh. Be safe!”
He hangs up on her, and she turns her phone on silent. Tomorrow, she’ll call him back or maybe send him a picture of her puck. But for now she stretches out across her bed and thinks about how good her pass to Matty felt. She knew from the moment she slung the puck across the ice, he would put it in. One-fucking-hundred-assists. And hundreds more in her future.
She smiles as she skims her fingers down her stomach and sets aside thoughts of hockey.
Chapter Twelve
THEY HAVE AN off-day after Indianapolis, and Sophie takes full advantage, knowing they’re about to spend the next few days in western Canada. She goes to optional skate, puts in some time in the weight room, and drives out to Durham to work with Ritchie again.
She only has a seven-game sample size, but she hasn’t broken anyone’s nose or even taken a retaliatory penalty in those seven games which means this must be working. They play for two hours, one hour on the ice, one hour in sneakers on a hard-top rink because ice time is hard to find.
Afterward, they pick up pizzas and bring them back to his house. He lives with some other guys on the UNH team, and they clearly don’t know what to make of her. But once she puts away her fourth slice of pizza, they stop tiptoeing around her and start viciously chirping her every time she loses at Mario Kart.
It feels like Chilton and even a little bit like Concord, and it’s definitely a good way to spend her day. She leaves feeling on top of her shit which means it’s time to sort out her team. Hockey coaches were often once hockey players, and there’s an unspoken rule you don’t mess with what works. Some players take this to the extreme; they wear the same jock year in and year out until the straps wear through and some players don’t wear socks because one time they forgot their socks and scored a hat trick which means going sock-less is lucky.
She isn’t on the extreme side of the “change is bad” spectrum, and she doesn’t think Coach Butler is either, but he hasn’t given Lindy a start since the Empires. They lost seven in a row backed by their starter and they’ve won six out of the most recent seven with Teddy in net. The losses weren’t all on Lindy and the wins weren’t all on Teddy, but he doesn’t want to mess with what’s working.
Hot goalies are given starts.
She’s proud of Teddy—he deserves every start he earns—but it’s been tough on Lindy. For the past week or so, he’s left every practice with his shoulders drawn up tight. More often than not, Matty leaves with him, and Teddy tracks both of them, his own shoulders drawing up.
She hasn’t had the emotional energy to deal with it until now, but today after practice, she snags Teddy and drags him back to her apartment.
“It’s not your fault,” she tells him.
“I know. It’s Coach Butler’s decision to put me in. But goalie is such a shit position sometimes. You can work with Peets on faceoffs and know if the third line plays better the team will be better. And if for some reason he took the 2C spot, you’d still have the 3C. You wouldn’t be stuck on the bench watching.”
Teddy drops onto one of the bar stools at her island and runs his hands through his hair. “Lindy’s the starter, he deserves it, but it means the moment I have a bad game, Butler’s going to yank me. I’m playing because he doesn’t want to mess with a good thing but once I’m not a good thing, I’m back to baseball caps and bubblegum during games. And it might not even come down to how I play. If the team sucks and I let in three quick goals, I’m out whether I had a chance at stopping them or not.”
He takes the glass of water she offers him and downs it in three large gulps. “Every start I have is one Lindy doesn’t. I don’t want to feel guilty for playing well.”
“Then don’t. You told me starts were up to Coach Butler. He’ll start whoever he wants. All the guilt and blame and responsibility is his. All you have to do is play the best game you can whenever you’re tapped to start. Lindy won’t hold it against you.”
“I know.” Teddy tugs on his hair. “But this is his team. I’m the one intruding.”
“This is our team. Lindy knows it, and he might be frustrated because he isn’t playing, but he doesn’t resent you for it. I bet you anything he’d rather share starts with you than any other goalie in the League.”
Teddy rolls his eyes. “You’re reaching, Sofe.”
“He’s your mentor which means you’re his favorite.”
“I thought I was your favorite.”
She grins. “See? Look at all these people who love you.” Teddy shakes his head, but his lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile. She leans on her counter. “So, what can I make for dinner to tempt Alyssa over here too?”
She texts Matty to meet her early for their flight to Edmonton and makes sure she has coffee for him when he shows up. She’s listened to Matty and X complain enough about not seeing their wives and kids as often as they’d like to feel guilty about dragging him away from them even earlier. But this is a conversation they need to have, and she wants it to be private. At least she can count on no one else showing up early.
Everyone shows up to practice, because there’s hell to pay if they’re late, but the plane is different. No one’s stupid enough to miss it, but some of them cut it pretty close.
She hands him the coffee and leans back against her bag. He sits down next to her and tugs off his toque. Beanie, his voice says in her head. No respectable American wears a toque. He stuffs it in his coat pocket and sips his coffee. He hums, pleased. “You know how I take my coffee.”
“I also know it’s about time you get a new jock strap.”
“Yeah, I’m not talking about my jock strap with you.” He laughs and takes another sip of his coffee. “So, what’s up?”
“Lindy’s frustrated.”
If he was anyone else, if he wasn’t her captain or her mentor, he’d probably give her a no shit look. Instead, he wraps his hands around his coffee cup and says, “Yeah. One of the hardest things in hockey is learning how to deal with your team winning without you.”
She appreciates the wisdom, but she didn’t come here for advice. She came with a problem. Though maybe…it isn’t her place to say anything? She doesn’t want to disrupt the locker room or be labeled difficult. Matty and Lindy, they’re at the same level as X, experienced vets. She’s still new.
But Teddy being a back-up goalie doesn’t make him less of a teammate, and she might only be in her second season, but they gave her an A. “Some of the other guys are picking up on his frustration.”
Sophie’s always been able to read a room well. It came from the painful awareness of how she disrupted it and her never-ending attempts to fit in. The first time she realized something was sour with one of her teams, she brought it up to Colby, because she was afraid to talk to her coach. She didn’t want him to laugh at her fo
r being caught up in feelings. Colby set her straight. Team dynamics make or break a season.
There’s nuance to it, of course. Some things need to be worked out by the players involved, there are things captains need to be brought into, and sometimes there are things Coach needs to know. Their goalie situation is a mess in part because of their coach so she’s hoping Matty can fix it. Teddy’s uncertain, and Lindy’s frustration is leaking, and if they don’t get on top of it, it’ll spread until the team is uneasy even if they don’t know the reason why.
“Ah.” Matty doesn’t ask her to elaborate. “I’ll talk to Lindy. He’s been struggling, but he doesn’t mean to take it out on Teddy. Another one of the hardest things in hockey is when they ask you to train your replacement.”
Matty glances up from his coffee. His eyes are pinched, sad almost. Out of respect, she doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s a near thing. “Teddy isn’t his replacement. Lindy’s young, and he still has three years left on his contract. He’s our guy. Both of you are our guys. You signed the biggest contract in Concord’s history. You and Lindy and X; Condors for life.”
It’s her dream too, to stay with Concord until she retires.
“Why do you know that?” Matty asks.
“Why do you know so much history shit? I like hockey facts.”
“You like hockey facts.” He’s outright laughing at her. “Our little hockey nerd.”
“Whatever.” Important conversation over, she stands up and stretches her legs. “I’m going to track down a juice or something. Do you want anything?”
He lifts his coffee. “I’m good.”
When she comes back, they sit in companionable silence until the rest of the team shows up, en masse as if they met up in the parking lot so they could come in all together. Nelson pauses when he sees the two of them. “How come we weren’t invited to the party?”
“We should’ve invited you, I’m sorry. You might’ve actually made it on time for once.”
“Hey! I’m here fifteen minutes early today.”
It’s a miracle, Garfield mouths over his shoulder.
“Remember the time we had to hold the plane for Odie?” Theo asks loudly.
“Fuck you.” There’s no bite in Nelson’s words as if he knows the story’s going to be told whether he protests or not.
Kevlar grins as he picks up the story, clearly enjoying the way Nelson squirms. “I can never remember, did your alarm go off while you were making her brunch or going for round three? Careful, one answer makes you a gentleman, the other makes you an asshole with poor time management skills.”
“You almost missed hockey for a girl?” Spitz winces as if he didn’t mean to talk.
“Was she hot?” Peets asks.
Theo grins and tucks Peets under one arm and Spitz under the other. “Let me tell you about the glorious afternoon.”
“Afternoon?” Spitz asks as if he can’t help himself.
“You should’ve seen his neck,” Theo says. “I’m pretty sure she was a vampire.”
“His neck? Did you see his chest?” Witzer chimes in with a giant grin. “He took his shirt off in the locker room, and we all understood why it took him so long to get his ass to the plane.”
“I bet Butler’s still pissed about it,” Garfield says.
Merlin slings an arm around Nelson. His expression spells nothing but trouble. “Would you say Butler…put you in the doghouse?”
Half the team groans, and Theo loudly calls on him to be fined. In the resulting chaos, Matty tugs on Lindy’s sleeve and pulls him into a quiet conversation.
They’ve mostly settled by the time they board the plane. Sophie hangs back with Spitz who’s still baffled Nelson would miss hockey for a girl. Sophie, who wouldn’t miss hockey for anything or anyone, doesn’t get it either. She nudges him down the aisle to where the rest of the Manchester crew is.
She stops at her row and pauses when she doesn’t see Teddy in his usual seat. He’s a few rows past hers, sitting with Lindy. She smiles as she sits down and pulls out her headphones.
The two goalies stick close to each other on the plane, the next day at morning skate, and again during warm-ups for their game against Edmonton. Sophie tracks them as she skates her first lap. They’re both on the ice stretching, but Lindy points out Edmonton players, and Sophie can see his mouth move and Teddy nod along, even if she isn’t close enough to hear what they’re saying.
“Oh good.” Merlin falls into stride with her for her second lap. “Was it just me or were things awkward?”
“Just you. They look fine to me.”
“Huh.” Merlin glance back at their goalies and then shrugs, letting it go. “Are we kicking Hydra ass tonight, or what?”
“As long as we don’t chop off any heads. I heard if you cut off one, three more take its place.”
“Really?” Witzer asks, joining them. “Does it work the same way with their dicks?”
Sophie isn’t the only one to give him an incredulous look. Merlin stops skating, accidentally snow-showering Zinger. His eyebrows climb up to his forward. “What?”
Witzer shrugs. “They’re mythological beasts with multiple heads. Why would it be weird if they had multi-pronged dicks?”
“I’m not having this conversation.” Sophie claps Merlin’s back. “All you, buddy.” She skates over to Theo who’s looking their way.
“You don’t want to know.” She inspects the water bottles on the bench. Theo takes a drink from his and hands it to her. She catches him still staring at where her wingers are. “You really don’t want to know.”
“I trust you.”
Sophie takes a drink of water as Merlin and Witzer bring their conversation to the bench. Witzer waves his free hand around. “All I’m saying is this; three heads, three prongs. With some coordination, it’s totally possible.”
Sophie spits her water out on the ice. “I hate you.” She wipes her mouth and then points down the bench at Matty. “Cap, we’re switching lines tonight. And possibly forever.”
“What?” Merlin gasps.
“But we’re lineys.” Witzer sniffles.
“Wait, so what has three prongs?” Zinger asks.
“Hydra dick,” Witzer cheerfully answers.
“What?” Theo demands, voice flat.
Sophie pats him on the back. “I told you you didn’t want to know.”
They win 7-5 over Edmonton in what’s far from a defensively sound game. They troop down to the locker room with a victory under their belts, but Sophie can’t muster the energy to match the rookies’ excitement. Big Red bounces between Witzer and Zinger, keyed up from his first three-point night. Spitz beams as Kuzy clasps the back of his neck and praises the shot block which saved a goal and set up the breakout pass for the empty netter.
“It’s a start,” Coach Butler says and the team reins their excitement in. “Wins are good, but you have to step it up for Vancouver. Lindholm’s back in net.”
Which means they better tighten up their defense or they’ll hang their starter out to dry. Again.
Teddy’s back in his seat beside her on their flight to Vancouver. The lights in the cabin are dimmed so guys can sleep, but Sophie’s too restless. She tips her head back and runs through everything she remembers on Vancouver; their goalie’s weaknesses, their forwards’ favorite shots, and if there are any players she has to keep an eye out for.
At the hotel, she struggles to fall asleep. Once she finally does, she doesn’t stay asleep. She wakes up every time she rolls over or stretches too far, pain blossoming from the bruises she accumulated thanks to Shawn Wedin. When she wakes up, the bruise on her hip throbs, a hot insistent pain. Her whole body protests as she stretches, her muscles tight from a hard-hitting game. She wants to turn her alarm off and sink back against her pillows but she can’t.
No more sleep until her game day nap.
Only, when she takes her nap she rolls onto her bruise and hisses out a sharp breath. Then she turns on her side and her calf cram
ps up. She rolls onto her bruise again and by the time her alarm goes off she’s crankier than she was before her nap.
Merlin’s mouth actually falls open when she boards the bus. “Woah. You look—”
“If the next word out of your mouth is tired, I swear I will call Marissa and we’ll see how you look after a week of sleeping on the couch.”
The bus is silent save for Nelson’s muttered, “Oh, shit.”
Sophie drags a hand down her face. “Sorry.”
Merlin doesn’t say anything as she passes him to reach her seat. Teddy doesn’t spare her more than a glance. His headphones are in, and he’s halfway into his goalie zone already. She sinks into her seat with a sigh and winces as she isn’t as careful of her bruises as she should be.
Fuck Shawn Wedin.
They file off the bus in their game day suits, and she summons a smile for Napoli and the CondorsTV crew, but it feels more like a grimace. It must look like one too, because Napoli nudges Bowman toward Theo and Kevlar as they try to pull each other’s toques over their eyes.
When they reach the rink, Sophie takes some time to put her head on straight. She’s played in back-to-backs before. She’s played fatigued before. She’s played banged up before. No matter how she feels today, she’s played like this before.
She stops in the bathroom on her way to find a pregame snack and figures out why she’s so run down. She’s on her period. She raises her gaze to the ceiling. Well, this will be fun. She sorts herself out and heads into the tiny visitors’ kitchen to find a snack.
“Crackers?” Theo asks, offering her the sleeve of Triscuits in his hand. Kevlar offers her a slice of cheese.
“No thank you.”
“Cookie?” Zinger holds up a Fig Newton.
“I stopped believing those were cookies when I was five.”