Page 6 of Playing Her Game

“Desperate to get your man home,” I whisper.

She doesn’t even try to deny it, “Always.”

Coach D is furious. Even through the glass, I can read the tension in her posture as she calls her players together. She points toward the ice, then singles out Stone, Koa, and Lenzin, instead of Aleks.

Three-on-three overtime.

Sofie folds her arms. “He’s going to overthink this.”

“No, he won’t,” I say automatically. I feel her eyes on me. “Hildy, tell her.”

“He looks… different.” Hildy states.

I keep my eyes on Lenzin. “He knows what he’s doing.”

The puck drops. Koa wins the draw cleanly, and Stone circles wide left, dragging a defender with him. Lenzin cuts right, initially holding back before accelerating through the neutral zone.

Reznik shadows him immediately. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. He’s such a tw…nat.”

Sofie laughs. “Apparently, they aren’t finished with each other.”

I don’t point out Coach D sent him, knowing he won’t personalize this, and Aleks would, as obviously there’s an issue with them.

Three is a different kind of hockey. Every inch of open ice matters, every movement creates an opportunity, and one mistake can end the game. I watch the three Brooklyn players cycle the puck, Stone passing to Koa, Koa returning it, their movements deliberate enough that I can see the setup forming.

Lenzin hangs back.

Reznik stays close, watching him.

“Come on,” I whisper.

Stone wheels behind the net and slips the puck to Koa at the half wall. Koa draws the defender toward him, fakes high, and sends the puck back to Lenzin at the blue line.

For one breath, Lenzin has space, but Reznik lunges.

Lenzin pulls the puck inside, cuts through the top of the circle, and drives toward center ice. The goalie squares up, dropping into position as Lenzin brings the puck across his body.

I rise from my seat.

“Shoot!”

Lenzin pulls it across once more, forcing the goalie to shift, then releases a quick, low backhand.

There are rare moments in hockey where an arena goes silent, and this is one of them. We all watch as the puck slides beneath the goalie’s pad.

Then the red light flashes, the horn screams, the entire box explodes.

Lucy screams, “HE WON!”

Lenzin doesn’t throw his arms up. He looks straight toward them, his girls, his life, his future, his heart.

“Yes, sweetheart, he won!” Paul shouts back.

I laugh, still watching Lenzin as Stone reaches him first and Koa crashes into them both. The three players disappear into a tangle of celebrating jerseys.

Hildy presses a hand to her chest. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

My chest tightens with an overwhelming feeling that statement brings, “Don’t ever do that, he wouldn’t survive losing you.”