He intended to play better tonight.
After sitting in the sauna for an hour to relax his tense muscles, he went home for a couple of hours, put his earbuds in, and listened to some music. After, he did an easy workout, trying to stay pumped up for the game tonight. Then he grabbed a small snack to eat and went back to the Garden to get ready.
Putting on his uniform always made him realize how damn lucky he was to be able to do what he loved the most. He’d been on skates from the time he was old enough to toddle. His father had loved hockey and had encouraged Trick to play, and he’d taken to it as if he’d been born to do it. He wished his dad were still alive to see him play now. He missed the enthusiasm and excitement his dad had shown at all his games. Trick always took a few seconds before the start of every game to focus on his father, to remember he wouldn’t be here now without his dad’s encouragement and the push he’d given him to stick with it when times hadn’t been so good.
He still had his mom back in Milwaukee, and saw her as often as he could. She called and texted him all the time, and she was as big a hockey fan as his dad had been. She came out to New York a couple of times a year to see him play, and he always loved seeing her.
He smiled at that thought, and as he took the ice and heard the cheers of all the fans, wished he could see his mother’s smiling face there. But he rounded the corner out of the box and saw Stella grinning down at him. His stomach tightened in a good way.
That woman did something to him.
He filed that thought away for later, because he had to concentrate on this game. The last thing he wanted to do was suck as bad as he had at practice today. So he shut out all the other minutiae clouding his brain and focused on his team and the opposition.
Tonight, it was Nashville, a really good team, and as Trick and the rest of the Travelers got into position, there was only one thing on his mind—the puck.
After the face-off, Drew had the puck and Trick followed Drew’s lead on the other side of the ice. It was a lot of volleying back and forth at the beginning of the game as both teams warmed up, got a feel for each other. Trick took the pass and skated to the Nashville net, his teammates right on his skates. He passed it and the defenseman intercepted.
Shit. It went like this for a while, but they played a lot at the Nashville net, keeping the puck away from their defense, which was a good sign. It took patience and concentration, and Trick had plenty of that. He waited for another chance, which he got several minutes later, then passed the puck to Drew, who breezed past the defender.
Trick was waiting for the puck, fought the defender for it, and moved to the net.
Drew was there, and Trick shot it over. Drew slid it right in past the goalie.
The lamp lit.
They’d scored.
A minute and a half later, they scored again on a pass from Drew to Trick. The Travelers were the only ones to score in the first period, because Avery was on fire in the Travelers’ net, fighting off multiple shots on goal.
In the second period, both Drew and Boyd scored, with one assist from Trick. They were up four nothing after the second period, but Nashville scored a minute and a half into the third period.
Trick went after the puck on the next face-off, relentless in his pursuit of another score. Drew and the others seemed to pick up on it, because they spent the majority of the third period at the Nashville net.
Offense was hot tonight, and it paid off with two more scores, one by Boyd Litman, the other by Trick. They ended with a victory in the Garden, and a well-satisfied, cheering crowd.
Even though they’d scored a lot, the game had been tough. Nashville was a really good team.
Sweat poured down his back, and every muscle in his body protested, but Trick didn’t care. He celebrated by skating a victory lap around the ice, stick raised in the air as he virtually high-fived all the fans. After a miserable practice today, he’d been beginning to wonder if he’d be able to pull it together for the game tonight. He should have known he’d feed off the fans’ energy. Between them and his teammates—and knowing Stella, his good luck charm, was in the stands—victory had been a foregone conclusion.
After doing post-game interviews, he took a shower and got dressed, then stepped outside the locker room.
Guys had wives and girlfriends waiting for them outside the locker room all the time. He never had. It had never bothered him before. Lately, it did.
He wondered where Stella was. He’d gotten her a pass so she knew she could come back here. She never had before, either, saying it would appear like she was his girlfriend, which she wasn’t.
No big deal to him, but to her? Big deal, apparently. He texted her.
Where are you?
She texted back a minute later.
Out back. Figured you’d want to avoid your many fans.
He shook his head and headed to the back exit. Stella was out there, alone.
He stalked his way over to her.
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
She held up her pass. “You gave me this damn all-access pass. It got me through the gate.”
He grabbed her arm and led her back inside. “Not what I meant. Jesus, Stell. Someone could mug you out here.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, there’s a damn security guard at the exit. It’s not like he’s going to let muggers through to get to me.”
While he appreciated her independent streak, sometimes it pissed him off.
“You’re cranky,” she said as he led her down an alternate hallway and out the side door to where he had a car waiting. “Shouldn’t you be in a good mood since you seriously kicked some ass tonight?”
“I am in a good mood.”
She leaned forward, gazing up at him, then shook her head. “Yeah. I can tell.”
The driver opened the door for them, and Trick waited while Stella slid inside. He climbed in after her, trying to get his crazy emotions under control. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but he needed to blow off this mood. Because Stella was right—the Travelers had won tonight, so he should be happy.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving.”
“We’ll go eat somewhere.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Or . . . we could go to your place . . . then get takeout later.”
She squeezed his upper arm, and he could tell she wanted the alone time.
So did he. He’d been waiting to be with her. “Sure.”