Page 20 of One Kind Goal

Chapter Four

Sawyer skated through the other team’s defense, passing the puck to his teammates and keeping hope alive that the RI Anchors would pull a win tonight. The score was tied at 3-3. All they needed was to make this final play count.

In his peripheral, Sawyer registered the other team’s center forward racing toward him. Glancing around, he found Brett Zanders to his left and Sawyer got rid of the puck to him. Brett protected the puck until Sawyer could get himself closer to the net. He waited while his teammates played a spot-on game of Keep Away with the other team’s players. It was almost comical to watch as attempt after attempt was made, but Anchors’ players didn’t let opposing sticks anywhere near that puck.

When the puck finally sailed toward Sawyer again, he was ready. He skated a bit closer to the net then faked to the right, making the opposing goalie flinch. With a quick, yet powerful strike, Sawyer sent that puck gliding into the net.

The rink erupted. Some of it was cheering for the Anchors, but it was a home game for Minnesota so the general sound was one of pain and disappointment at the other team’s loss. Sawyer didn’t care though because his team rallied around him at their victory.

And he knew of a certain gorgeous New Yorker who was probably cheering pretty loudly right now in front of her TV. Man, he wished she were here. Or he was there. He desperately wanted to celebrate this win with her. If the Anchors didn’t have another game scheduled the day after tomorrow, he’d fly to New York and demand to see her.

As it stood right now, February was a busy month for hockey. Sawyer wasn’t sure when he’d get a chance to see Morgan in person. They’d made plans to video chat tonight, but that wouldn’t be the same. He wanted to have his hands on her again. If the text she’d sent him right before the game was any indication, Morgan wanted his hands on her again too.

Morgan: I can’t look at these scarves without touching myself.

He’d spent a good portion of his pre-game time picturing her touching herself and those images had been hot enough to melt the ice at the rink. His team was lucky he’d remembered how to play hockey tonight. His promise of making goals for Morgan, however, had kept him focused and now the Anchors could add another win to their records.

“Dude! Nice work,” Brett said, as they skated off the ice and headed for the press area where reporters waited for comments. “You played with a fire tonight.”

A Morgan-stoked fire.

“We all made it happen,” Sawyer said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Brett pulled off his gloves. “You always say that.”

“Well, it’s true. I didn’t win this game all by myself.” Sawyer yanked off his helmet and followed Brett to where their manager was talking to the press.

“No,” Brett said, “but we wouldn’t have won without you either. Their defense was tough tonight, but as always, you kept your cool and positioned us for the win.” Brett jostled Sawyer’s shoulder. “You lead us well.”

A reporter snagged Sawyer so Brett kept walking until he got caught in the press web as well.

“Mr. Lundin,” the reporter said. “Incredible footwork once again tonight.”

“Thanks.” Sawyer ran his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Never hurts to put a little Icecapades into the plays.”

The reporter chuckled. “Is that the secret?”

“A little bit, yeah. If you’re not in control on your skates, you’ve got no shot at getting the puck to go where you want it.”

“And you definitely got it where your team wanted it. Congratulations on the win tonight,” the reporter said. “I’ve asked a few of your teammates about what motivates them on the ice. What’s your response to that question?”

“Different things motivate me at different times,” Sawyer said then he stared directly into the camera. “Tonight I was motivated by the time I recently spent with a wonderful person.” He smiled, hoping Morgan was watching right now. “I promised her some goals.”

“And you delivered.”

“I did.” He shook the reporter’s hand then moved on before more questions could be asked.

Sawyer joined his teammates at a larger press gathering, took his time in the spotlight, cracked the necessary jokes, and waxed poetic about the beauty of teamwork, but all he wanted to do was get to his phone. It was late, but Morgan had said he could call tonight. He wasn’t going to let that opportunity slip by.

After about an hour of post-game nonsense, Sawyer arrived back at the hotel. His teammates had invited him out for a drink, but he’d declined tonight.

Brett had given him a suspicious side eye as they left the rink. “Who is she?”

“What?”

“If you’re not coming out with us, there’s a chick,” Brett said. “Who is she and why didn’t you get me one?”

Sawyer considered brushing it off, but Brett was as good a buddy as Teddy was. He knew he could trust Brett too. “Remember when we played in Vermont and we stayed at those cottages?”