Page 44 of Crease Collision

It’s possible the shot would’ve gone in no matter what, but I hadn’t been ready.

Nico skates close and taps my pads. “Shake it off.”

I nod. But I can’t do it.

Across the ice, Oskar raises his stick. Why did he do that?

Just get through the period.

The next ten minutes are ugly. My teammates play harder than ever, but Oskar stands on his head. Amazing for someone who’s twenty-two and playing his first HFNA game, thrown into it against a team already up by two points. A lead the Fury has now reduced to one.

Shit. With thirty seconds left, the Fury ties it on a deflection I don’t see coming until it’s already past me.

In the tunnel, Jace slaps my shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Mercer?”

Tarasov, my backup, is on the other side of me. “You good?” he asks.

I barely manage not to laugh. I’m so far from good that “bad” wouldn’t begin to cover it.

The locker room smells of sweat, wet gear, and tape, along with a big slice of irritation. I remove my mask and try to ignore the noise. Coach Holmer comes in for a quick pep talk while we strip out of our jerseys and towel off.

After Holmer leaves, voices come at me in fragments.

“Keep pressing, Kai.”

“You’ve got it.”

“We’re going to win this. I’m buying drinks afterward.”

The noise is so loud I can’t think. I’m about to scream when someone starts talking close to my ear.

“Can I count on you, Mercer? Should I send Tarasov in?”

I lift my head. The goalie coach is standing over me with his arms folded and a cautious expression on his face.

I hate cautious expressions. They make everything feel worse before anyone says a word.

“I’ve got it.” I give him a thumbs-up.

Before he can reply, I get up and say, “Bathroom.” Then I race across the room before anyone can stop me.

I lock myself in a stall and sit on the toilet. The guys are raising hell, so it’s still noisy. At least no one’s trying to talk to me.

A little relieved, I take deep breaths and fix my eyes on the door latch. Metal, scratched, slightly crooked. Something I can hold still with my eyes.

Oskar’s face slides over it anyway.

I bang a fist against the other palm to keep from screaming.

Everything is fine. No problems. Think about Oskar later.

I lean forward with my elbows on my knees.

He didn’t tell me.