Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
IZZY
This has been a hard game to watch, and I bet it’s been even to play. Utah brought their full force tonight and they’re making us work for every second of puck time. The anger is boiling close to the surface for both teams, and the tension between opponents has been obvious in nearly every interaction.
We’re down 2-to-1 and it’s still the first period. Zach has been playing well, but the other team has been putting the pressure on him hard. They’ve done their homework, and they’re keeping him tied up.
Ash is in goal tonight. This is his fifth year on the team, and he’ll be our main goalie again this season. He’s a solid player. He’s a mover though, and he’ll probably be the reason Dad gets ulcers. He’s always leaving his goal, venturing far enough out that even I get nervous. He’s good though, so his tactics have proven their worth. Watching his playing relationship with Zach grow has been fascinating. As a defender, it’s not unusual for Zach to be close to the goalie. And as an enforcer, it’s not unusual for Zach to protect the goalie. But Zach and Ash’s relationship seems to go deeper. Like they have a sixth sense for each other. It’s truly a thing of beauty to watch them together.
With a minute left on the clock, we have the puck in front of the Utah goal. Jackson is on the ice and gets control. He takes a shot, but it gets blocked by the goalie’s stick, keeping the puck in play. Luke picks up the rebound and sneaks towards the side. Utah is all over him; it’s a cluster at best, but he somehow manages to pass back across to Jackson who takes another shot. It’s across the ice from where we’re sitting, and it’s a blur, but I see the puck hit the back of the goal net.
The big red light that signals a scored goal goes off, and the crowd jumps to their feet. The cheering is quickly cut off as the red light stops and the ref signals for no goal. Jackson gets up in the ref’s face, close enough to have me worried. I can see the anger in his expression as he talks to the ref and I hope he can keep it together and not get kicked out. Katelyn is gripping my arm, and Steph’s, as we watch this unfold.
Luke is still by the net, in the middle of a crowd of Utah players who are pressing in on him.
I look up to watch the replay on the big screen and can’t see what is causing the ref to say it’s not a valid goal. The announcement comes over saying that the goal will not stand, that the whistle had blown, making the play invalid. It’s a garbage call.
The entire arena breaks out into loud boos and shouts about bad calls. I see the effect of this denied goal ripple across the whole team. Their faces show the anger and frustration they’re feeling. That goal would have tied us, instead we’re still down and this call is going to affect the team psyche.
From there, things only get more tense. There have been too many almost-fights to count. Utah has scored again, bringing us down 3-to-1. The second period is half over, and I have a feeling that this is going to come to a front soon. Just as that thought strikes, a Sleet player breaks away with the puck.
It’s Zach.
I’m standing and yelling and clenching my fists as I watch him sprint towards the Utah goalie, one on one.
His speed is always a surprise to me.
There are players chasing him, but he keeps his eyes forward. Zach veers right then left, deciding where to aim his shot, and the Utah chaser is nearly on him. I bite down on the scream crawling up my throat just as Zach slaps his stick against the puck. It sails past the goalie’s outstretched hand and lands in the upper corner of the net.
The horns go off. The crowd is screaming. And I’m grinning.
Zach’s momentum keeps him going and he turns with it, skating right past our seats. Unfortunately, the row of bitches in front me are all on their feet as well, signs pressed against the glass.
I see him smirk at the signs, and my grin changes to a grimace.
“You can’t let these hookers ruin the game for you,” Meghan whispers in my ear.
“I know. I wish I didn’t care. I really do. But him seeing those signs, it just makes me feel… stabby.”
“I get it. I tease you, but I get it. If I saw those signs for my guy, I’d have a fucking conniption.”
“Your guy?” I ask.
“You know,” she waves her hand, “in general. If I were in your shoes. Seriously though, thank you for the tickets, but this has been a stressful-as-fuck game.”
“Truth.”
