Page 55 of Game Misconduct

He kicked at the boards in frustration and his father’s hand landed on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he kept it there, a heavy reminder that he was watching.

Humiliation washed over Leif, feeling like a child being scolded for his temper tantrum.

As the minutes ticked down and they went out, shift after shift, without a goal, the pit in Leif’s stomach widened. Fuck, hehadto do this.

This was what he was here for, to score goals! So why was he failing? Why couldn’t he seem to finish a play? His teammates had set him up for some great chances. So what was going wrong?

Leif tried, repeatedly, but despite several of those opportunities, the score remained 3–1 as the minutes ticked by in the third period.

Hope reignited with just minutes left as Touko Mustajärvi—one of their Finnish forwards—scored a wraparound goal that snuck by Poole’s shin pad.

3–2, they could still do this.

Leif skated until his thighs screamed and his lungs burned for oxygen in his next shift out. Another chance … but denied.

He tried again, with what had to be seconds left, the puck clanging off the post, the metallic ring drowned out seconds later with the roar of the crowd celebrating his failure. The puck landed on his stick again—collected by one of the defenseman—and he shoved the disc toward the goal, desperately trying to get it in.

It didn’t have to be pretty. It didn’t have to be highlight-worthy. He just had to fucking get it in!

But the sound of the game horn popped Leif’s hope like a balloon. He slumped, breathing hard, sick with the feeling of defeat.

He watched Tanner and the other Team USA guys pour onto the ice, shouting their jubilation, the scene growing blurry as tears pricked at Leif’s eyes.

He’d been so close to taking it to overtime.

Every failed attempt played out like a nightmare in front of his eyes when Matty Carlson picked Tanner up and shook him like a ragdoll, his glove and stick falling to the ice as he laughed.

Leif’s stomach ached, jealousy coursing through him. When Tanner skated away from the celly, he blew Leif a kiss.

Anger ignited in Leif, sparking hot and sulfurous like the strike of a match. He shouted at Tanner, skating toward him, intent on making him pay for it, but a strong arm wrapped around his chest, holding him back.

“We lost, Rass,” Ola Jansson shouted. “Let it go.”

Leif snarled and jerked out of his grip, but he didn’t go after Tanner. Instead, he followed his teammates as they lined up to shake hands with the opponents.

Janson was right.

Leif gritted his teeth through the handshake line, gripping sweaty hands and refusing to look anyone in the eye. Was it bad sportsmanship? Yeah. But right now, he didn’t trust himself to look at Tanner and not completely lose it.

But when Tanner approached, Leif didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. The way Tanner’s hand fit in his, the way he carried himself, the weird buzz in Leif’s skin when their palms touched and their fingers slid against one another … Leif knew.

“Good game,” he muttered thickly.

“Good game.” Tanner’s voice was cheerful as always. “You might want to try channeling some of your dad’s talent if you want to score more though.”

Leif did glance up then, hurt and horrified that Tanner would dig the knife in that way. Was there no line for him? Nothing that was considered too far?

“Shit, Leif,” Tanner muttered. “I didn’t?—”

But Leif wrenched his hand away and moved onto the next guy.

Behind him, he could hear Matty Carlson say, “Dude, that was uncalled for,” and Tanner’s miserable sounding, “I didn’tthink,” but he just kept going, wanting to put more distance between him and Tanner.

Leif finished the handshake line in a daze, hurt and anger mingling in his belly like some sort of toxic soup. Shame was there too. Embarrassment. Regret.

God, as much as he hated Tanner saying that, he wasn’t wrong, was he? If he’d played like Aksel, he would have scored. Just one more of Leif’s shots going in would have made all the difference. Changed the entire trajectory of the game.

If one more goal had gone in early in the game, maybe it would have given them the spark they needed. The chance of turning it around.