And then, as hard as it was to do, he had to put those girls completely out of his mind.
It was time to go to war.
***
“C'mon, boys, c'mon,” Lance grumbled on the bench as he waited for his next shift.
The Brawlers hadn't played the kind of game he'd hoped for. He'd hoped his team could strike early and fast, so they could stomp on the accelerator and never look back.
Instead, late in the third period, the Brawlers trailed the New York Scouts 2-1.
Poor ice conditions made for a slow, ugly game. The puck refused to stay flat on the ice, bobbling and flipping and jumping over stick blades instead. Conditions like that made even the simplest skills, like a five-foot pass, a high-risk venture.
It wasn't the sort of game that favored a high-skill player like Lance. With the puck leaping around with a mind of its own, everyone had to play safe, and every inch of neutral zone ice was hotly contested. It was a game of tug-of-war all night between the two teams.
Sometimes, the Hockey Gods wanted you to battle for it.
Line change with less than a minute to go.
Lance leaped over the boards and joined the action on the ice with his two wingers, Stone and Radar. The Scouts carried the puck into the Brawlers' end and shoveled it in deep. The visiting team wanted to let the clock run out, and they were content to grind the puck along the boards.
Valuable seconds ticked off the clock. Twenty-five remained. While Radar worked hard trying to dig the puck free from a Scouts player, Lance had to stay in position, covering his man. Shea joined the board battle, shoving a Scouts player to the ice with a snarl.
Fifteen seconds left on the clock, but Radar and Shea finally emerged with the puck. The three-man unit bolted up ice, pushing the New York defense back, back, back.
Radar fired a pass at Lance; the puck skipped across the ice like a rock thrown across the surface of a pond. The rubber disc tumbled end-over-end, flying through the air—before Lance batted the puck out of mid-air, settled it down, and cradled it on the blade of his stick.
A two-on-one.
Lance sent a quick pass to Stone, then followed through, crashing the net.
Stone fired a shot, low and hard, that the Scouts goalie stopped by kicking out his leg pad. But the rebound squirted right to Lance. Lance collected the puck, time slowing, and madesurethat the puck stayed calm on the blade of his stick …
Before he snapped his wrists and flicked the puck into the yawning cage.
Tie game.
***
The Scouts had given Lance a good scare, but once they tied the game, he knew the Brawlers weren't going to lose in overtime. Tying the game with mere seconds left had taken all the wind out of New York's sails.
Boston, however, was still roaring at the start of overtime. Lance took one quick look over at Paige and Irie. He was glad he'd thought to buy a pair of those baby earmuffs for Irie. He'd hate to think that her ears might be hurting thanks to all the noise.
Then he glided to center ice to take the faceoff.
Lance won the draw cleanly, shoveling the puck back to Shea. Shea got rid of it in a hurry with a short pass up the wing to Radar. Radar skated the puck into the zone, drew in a defender, then flipped a neat little backhand pass over to Lance. Lance, feeling more confident now, turned on the jets and beat his man in a footrace to the inside. Lance streaked alone into the slot and the second the New York goalie lowered his stance, he fired a rocket just between the goalie's ear and shoulder.
The Boston crowd jumped from their seats and exploded into a raucous cheer. The Brawlers' goal song blasted from the arena speakers, and Lance's teammates emptied the bench to celebrate the victory on the ice.
But when his teammates turned to leave the ice and head for the dressing room, Lance stopped them.
“Wait, wait, wait. Don't leave yet, guys. I need you here for this.”
His teammates all took a knee along the boards, and Lance motioned for a microphone from one of the arena staff.
Chapter 37
Paige
