Page 124 of Crease Collision

“No, only enough to keep each other motivated.”

We have dinner at an Italian restaurant we like, then come back to Kai’s and settle on the couch.

“Are you looking forward to practice?” I ask.

“Do you ever look forward to it?”

I laugh. “No. But I enjoy seeing the guys.”

“Same. I’m sure Holmer’s going to work on our power play. It was our weak point against…”

I put an arm around his shoulders. “Against us? You can say it.”

“I just don’t…” He snuggles closer. “It’s weird, Ozzy.”

“But you’re excited, right? I would be.”

He shifts so he can see me. “You’re okay with it? I don’t mean losing, because how could you be? But you’re okay with me?”

That takes me by surprise, and it takes me a moment to say, “I am completely okay with you. Losing is hard to deal with, but it wasn’t personal. When you played one-on-one with friends growing up, did you hold it against them if they beat you?”

He shrugs. “Not for long. But we weren’t playing for the Laurentian Cup.”

“Oh, baby. You are so much more important to me than that damn Cup.”

I caress his cheek and kiss him. He snuggles against me, the first time he’s relaxed in two days.

An hour later, I ask, “Are we still watching the game?”

Kai looks over. “What game would that be?”

He knows they’re playing game seven of the Western Conference playoffs.

I give him a don’t-play-dumb look. “The one that will determine who the Condors are playing in three days.”

“Guess we’d better,” he says. “It would be good to know.”

For forty game minutes, we watch the Dallas Thunder chase the San Jose Pulse around the ice. When the third period starts, I’m nursing a beer while Kai’s bouncing beside me on the couch. His cola’s sweating all over the coffee table, so I move it to a coaster to keep him from having a panic attack later.

“Come on, Dallas,” he yells at the screen. “Just one decent clear. Is that too much to ask?”

The Pulse are up by three. I take a sip of my beer and say, “You’re quite invested in the Thunder.”

“They’ll be easier to beat.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. “San Jose’s got that playoff experience from last year. Dallas is a mess.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t want to face the Pulse.”

He tears his eyes away from the TV to glare at me. “You’re pulling for them, aren’t you? Admit it.”

“You’d better wipe that look off your face before it sticks,” I say, making him snort. “All I’m saying is that San Jose’s the better team. It would be more fun to play against them.”

He waves me off. “We don’t need that kind of fun. Watch this. Dallas is about to score.”

A Dallas forward breaks away, and Kai cheers so loudly the neighbors must hear. The forward shoots, but San Jose’s goalie makes an impressive save.

I point at the screen. “See? That’s what I mean. The Pulse goalie has great instincts. Dallas’s guy moves like he’s skating in wet cement.”

“Exactly my point.” Kai’s talking through gritted teeth. “We can face him, and the Thunder can face… well, me.”