Page 108 of Crease Collision

The Fury presses harder in the second period, creating more chances. One of our wingers slams the puck through Kai’s five-hole, and for a moment, Kai looks like he wants to hit him.

Fury 1, Condors 0. Yes.

The game settles into a brutal back-and-forth of hard checks, messy scrums, and no more goals. Carson accidentally high-sticks Rossi, the Condors’ captain, and draws a penalty. Fuck us. Despite all the drills we do, our penalty kill still sucks.

The Condors set up in our zone, and I try to see around one of their defensemen, who is doing everything he can to block my view. Our men are working hard, but with all the shots coming at me, I don’t know how long I can keep up.

Their other D-man rings one off the post, and their center fires a one-timer half a second later. I know it will be close, and sure enough, the damn thing flies right by me into the net. Fan. Tie game.

With eight minutes left in the period, Carson dumps the puck deep into the Condors’ zone. Our setup is relentless, and when one of their defensemen tries to clear it up the boards, it hits a skate and slides right into the slot.

Kendrick, our captain, pounces and fires a wrist shot. He doesn’t have a great angle, so it’s a save Kai should make. But he hesitates for an instant, and the puck slips under his glove and into the net.

While our guys celebrate, Kai slams his stick on the ice and lifts his glove toward our bench. Is he flipping us off inside it? I’ve never seen him so rattled after a goal.

The rest of the period is a grind. With less than a minute left, they come at me hard. Their center takes a weak shot. I drop into a butterfly, but as I try to cover the puck, a Condor pokes at it. It’s loose, and before I can react, the center knocks it in. Helvete, tied again.

The third period is hell. Every shot could be the tiebreaker. As the tension rises, so do frustration and penalties.

With five minutes to go, we get a power play. We play textbook hockey, pressing, cycling the puck, always looking for an opening. With only ten seconds remaining on the advantage, a shot from the point creates another rebound in the slot. Carson jumps on it and slams it past Kai’s blocker. Our bench goes wild.

Kai stands very still before turning around for some water.

The last minutes are endless. The Condors pull Kai and throw everything they have at us. Six attackers crowd our zone, and I use every trick I know to maintain our lead.

I let out a huge breath when the final horn blows. But as I tap helmets with my teammates, my eyes find Kai one last time. He’s skating toward their tunnel, head down, shoulders slumped. My stomach twists into a knot.

The locker room is in party mode. My heart’s racing from more than the game as I peel off my jersey. Will Kai come to my place? Should I go to his? Or will he go into seclusion?

While I’m stuck on that, a PR guy appears. “Come on, Oskar. Interview time.”

I follow him into the hallway, where reporters start calling out questions as soon as they see me. I give my usual short answers, but they’re all bullshit. No one can think straight after a game like that.

I’m explaining our penalty kill strategy when I look up and notice Kai walking down the hall toward us, weaving through a group of equipment guys. He’s already dressed in street clothes, his hair still damp from the shower. Our eyes meet, and my pulse kicks into double time when he smiles.

But he stops as soon as he sees the microphones and cameras, then turns and walks back the other way.

Back in the locker room, I stand under a hot shower, letting the water pound against my back. I can’t let him leave like that.

I dress quickly and hurry to the visitors’ locker room.

A security guard is standing at the door. “Can I help you, Mr. Olofsson?”

“I’m looking for Kai Mercer. I know I can’t go in there, but would you get him for me?”

“Sorry, but you’re a little late. The Condors’ bus left a few minutes ago.”

As I walk out of the arena, I pull my coat tighter against the wind. Loving Kai feels like watching someone drown while I’m standing on the shore without a boat.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

KAI

I have a day off at last. After a week of games, flights, and media bullshit, my condo should be a retreat. But all the clean lines, neutral colors, and light wood don’t help. I never thought I’d say this, but it is too quiet.

While I’m eating breakfast, I scroll through my recent messages with Ozzy. One or two texts a day. A couple of quick calls. Better than nothing. But definitely worse than ever.

The distance may be helping. Less pressure and lower intensity for both of us. But it could be hurting us. Who the fuck knows anymore?