Page 108 of Ethan

And that was the thing about Max—he was so gentle and sweet off the ice, and evenonthe ice, most of the time—but he was built big, too. Tall and broad and really fucking strong. He didn’t start fights, but if someone fucked with him—or fucked with Charlie, specifically—he’d finish the fight.

“I’m not a winger,” Ethan complained.

Emil shoved an elbow into his side.

“Not that being a winger isbad,” Ethan explained in a rush.

“You wanna be a winger or get your ass kicked?” Charlie asked archly.

Then before Ethan could reply, he went over the bench, and Ethan couldn’t even argue with him.

“Fucker,” Ethan muttered.

Emil shot him a commiserating look. “Like Barney even gets to decide who’s on Max’s line.”

But that was the most annoying thing about Charlie; he wassogood,sodominant, with that huge-ass hockey brain, he kinda could dictate that. He’d sidle up to their coach, Silas Gray, and put the idea in his head, and a week later, Silas would announce something that every single person on the team knew had been Charlie’s idea first.

“You know he can,” Ethan said. But he didn’twantto be on Max’s line. He wanted to run hisownline. He was a center. Like Charlie was a center. He’d been working his ass off on faceoffs all year so that he’d stay a center. He’d even made it to the third line, and now Charlie wanted to undermine all that hard fucking work.

Besides, he didn’tneedprotection; maybe it would be nice, but he didn’tneedit.

“There he goes,” Emil said, as Charlie stole the puck from Sam Bennett and took off, entering the Bandits’ offensive zone with a speed that only a few guys in the NHL could match.

Definitely none of the Panthers’ d-men could keep up. Barkov made it across the blue line, giving Charlie a two-on-one, something he could handle in his sleep. But then, Bobrovsky, the Panthers’ goalie, was one of the best in the league.

He’d already given up two goals to Charlie tonight. He wasn’t going to want to give up a hat trick.

“Wants it bad,” Emil said dryly. He wasn’t wrong—the determination was nearly radiating off Charlie—and then he finally took his shot.

It was a damn good shot, but personally, Ethan would’ve waited until he was a little closer, a little tighter to Bob. As it was, he totally saw the puck coming, and even though Charlie managed to elevate it, it wasn’t enough and Bob plucked it out of the air with his glove hand.

Ethan didn’t have time to make a face, because it was his turn to go over the boards and take his shift.

That dickhead Tkachuk hit him along the boards, definitely harder than he needed to, but Ethan was actively trying to steal the puck so he knew he wasn’t going to get the ref saying shit.

As expected, the refs let them play.

Hank skated up and used his bulk to try to help Ethan pry the puck loose, and sure enough, they finally got it, Hank passing it in a quick move to Emil.

Ethan pushed off, using his speed to make it past the blue line. It was late in the third, maybe, and he was a little gassed, but he used what was left in his tank to try to get into the offensive zone before the Panthers could quite get set into their defensive formation. Maybe even catch them off guard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan caught a glimpse of Jonas, his other winger, getting into position, and that was good, but as the Panthers arrayed themselves around the goal, Ethan thought he saw a better choice.

Notjustbecause he wanted to get Hank a goal, but because it was genuinely the best play.

He flicked the puck back to Hank, who didn’t hesitate. Took the shot. And unlike Charlie’s, he got a little more air on it, and it sailed past Bob before he could have a chance to get in position to stop it.

The puck hit the back of the net, and Ethan fist-pumped as the Bandits’ goal song blared across the ice.

“That’s fucking it,” he yelled to Hank as their bodies collided for the celebration.

Hank huffed under his breath at Ethan’s enthusiasm, but then that was Hank for you. Never thinking he was as spectacular as he was.

He’d seen the play too. Gotten into position. Trusted Ethan to get him the puck, and when Ethan had, that quick little flick of a pass, he’d grabbed it on his stick like he’d been born to do it.

“Sick move, bro,” Charlie said, Ethan tailing behind Hank as he skated by the bench, getting his fist bumps.

Yeah, it really had been. And Charlie wanted to win enough that he wasn’t going to hold back, only caring that they’d scored and given the Bandits a little more breathing room.