Page 70 of Over the Line

“Pittsburgh fifty-five and Kansas City twenty-one are each getting five for fighting,” the ref declared. “The other two, two minutes apiece for roughing.”

I nodded as he spoke. No surprises there.

To Kansas City’s alternate, the ref said, “Twenty-one gets an additional two for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

The alternate straightened. “But their guy started the fight.”

“He did,” the ref acknowledged. “And your guy slashed the goalie after the whistle. Two minutes for unsportsmanlike, unless you’d like to join him.”

The alternate scowled, but he knew better than to argue, and he just nodded.

The ref then turned to me. “You get a lid on fifty-five. It was a dirty slash, but let him know when to let it go.”

I nodded. “Will do.”

He looked at each of us. “Everything clear, gentlemen?”

We assured him it was, and then we both skated back to our respective benches to fill in our coaches while the ref skated to center ice to announce the penalties.

Kansas City’s coach was livid over the unsportsmanlike penalty, insisting that Chris deserved an instigator penalty, which was bullshit. Anyone would’ve dropped gloves for that, and the refs—and coach—knew it. In the end, the ref threatened the coach with a bench minor, and he even threatened to eject the coach if he didn’t calm the hell down. He’d do it, too—I’d seen this ref eject a coach for exactly that in the past. He didn’t fuck around.

The coach apparently wasn’t in the mood to press his luck, and he backed down even with smoke still curling out his ears.

With that dealt with, we set up for a faceoff. Thanks to that extra unsportsmanlike penalty, we had a power play, and that ended in nine seconds with Temo putting a puck behind Kansas City’s netminder.

Now Kansas City was pissed.

Fine by me—they were one of those teams who’d catastrophically fall apart when they were pissed, and tonight they fell apart in glorious fashion. By the time the second period was winding down, we’d gained another power play goal; our power play ranking would be sexy as hell by the end of this game.

When the buzzer sounded the end of the period, we were up 4-3 and morale was high… but I was uneasy.

Between Chris exiting the penalty box and the end of the period, there hadn’t been any time for me to talk to him. There had, however, been time for Kansas City to lay two dirty hits on him and for one of their forwards to get away with an obvious slash (way to go, refs). Chris was good at keeping his head up and staying aware, but I wanted to be sure he was being extra careful tonight.

In the hallway leading to the dressing room, as we left the ice for intermission, I called out, “Kanes. Wait up.”

Chris turned around, and his expression instantly turned sheepish. He stepped out of the flow of traffic, and once everyone had gone into the locker room, he met my gaze, probably expecting to get reamed out.

I clapped his shoulder. “Nice job out there, defending Barns. Don’t let that shit go unanswered.”

His eyebrows flew up. “Oh.”

I chuckled. “Did you think I was going to tell you not to fight? I fight, too. And slashing the goalie definitely warrants it.” I gestured over my shoulder. “The refs told me to tell you to put a lid on it, but…” I shook my head. “We all defend the goalie, and that’s that.” I smacked his shoulder again. “Nice job. Just don’t let them get under your skin.” I inclined my head and hoped my voice conveyed how serious I was. “And be careful out there tonight. I guarantee they’re going to try for retribution.”

“They already have.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe no one called that slash.”

“I know, right? Is your hand okay?”

“It’s fine. A little lower, and he’d have caught my wrist, but he got the padded part, so…”

“Good. But knowing these assholes, they’re going to keep trying to make you pay. My guess? Their coach will probably tell them to stop trying to hurt you, and instead, it’ll come in the form of trying to piss you off so you take a penalty.” I smacked his shoulder. “Keep your cool, and don’t let them draw a penalty. Got it?”

Chris nodded. “Got it.” He laughed quietly. “Honestly, I think I had calmed down from the fight by the time I came out of the box.”

“I figured. You’ve got a pretty cool head. Keep it that way. Just don’t think they’ve completely cooled off over it.”

He gave another sharp nod, and we continued into the locker room. Much like when the refs had dished out the penalties to me and the alternate, I hadn’t been telling Chris anything he didn’t already know. Fighting was what it was, and as long as he kept his head in the next period, he’d be fine.

As we rejoined our team, my head was buzzing with thoughts. I barely even heard Coach’s speech.