Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,10
chop his legs off.
Eric pushed him hard in the back with his blocker pad. “Fuck off, Rozanov.”
But Rozanov—an all-star center who had been a thorn in the side of Eric and every other NHL goaltender for nearly a decade—held his ground.
“I swear to fuck, Rozanov,” Eric growled as he stretched his neck to try to see over Rozanov’s shoulder.
“I heard Hunter’s getting married,” Rozanov said conversationally, as if they were having lunch together and not in the middle of a 1–1 hockey game.
“Looking for an invite?” Eric asked, shoving him again.
“To the most boring event of the century? No.”
Rozanov was a big guy, not easy to move. But Matti Jalo was bigger, and he finally came to Eric’s rescue.
“Took you long enough,” Eric grumbled, but Jalo was already gone, chasing after Rozanov. A few seconds later, Rozanov was racing toward the net with the puck. Instead of sinking back into the net, Eric moved to the top of the crease, fearless and challenging. Try me, motherfucker.
Rozanov let off a lightning-quick wrist shot that sailed toward the top corner of the net. The puck was fast, but Eric was faster, gloving it down with probably a little more flourish than was necessary. He only had so many chances left to make a highlight reel.
“Nice save,” Rozanov said calmly as he skated by.
“Plenty more where that came from.”
Rozanov turned back and grinned. “I doubt it. You are a hundred years old. I could hear your bones creak.”
“That’s not what your girlfriend said.” Eric was instantly embarrassed by his immature comeback. But Rozanov was laughing.
“I’ll have to ask her about it,” he said, then skated away, still laughing. Eric’s brow furrowed. He didn’t even know if Rozanov had a girlfriend.
The game ended with the Admirals beating Ottawa 3–1. Normally beating a team as low in the standings as Ottawa wouldn’t make Eric feel this good, but after his abysmal performance in the last game, winning felt incredible. When the siren sounded to end the game, he raised both arms over his head as first Jalo, and then the other defenseman on the ice, Brisebois, engulfed him in jubilant hugs.
Carter skated down the ice and butted the front of his helmet against the forehead of Eric’s mask. “You put on a fucking clinic tonight, Benny. Send them crying back to Ottawa.”
“They actually stay in town for a couple of nights,” Eric pointed out, because he couldn’t be cool and let things go. “They’re playing Brooklyn on Saturday.”
Carter looped an arm around Eric’s massive, padded shoulders. “Maybe I’ll recommend a bar they can drown their sorrows in.”
The locker room was boisterous and celebratory after the game. It was always a relief to win the last home game before a road trip; the confidence boost would hopefully carry into their game in Nashville in two nights’ time.
Eric sat to Scott’s left, as always, and listened to him happily telling Carter about his plans to visit Kip at work that night. Scott truly did love hanging out at the Kingfisher. Maybe after nearly thirty years of hiding, he was making up for lost time by openly hanging out in gay bars. Kip had done that for him. Or rather, the love Scott felt for Kip had done that. It had been strong enough to push Scott out of his comfort zone and into a better life.
Eric wondered what that felt like, to love a person so deeply that you become braver for it. Become better. Scott laughed all the time now, where before he had always been quiet, guarded and stoic. He’d rarely been social, always offering excuses to avoid going out. Never dating anyone, obviously. Never sharing his life.
How different was it from how Eric was living now? Eric had ostensibly shared his life with Holly for two decades, but looking back, he realized they hadn’t shared much with each other at all. A house. A bank account. A bed sometimes.
And he had liked Holly a lot. She’d come from money, but Eric had found her remarkably down-to-earth and funny. They’d been friends first, and then it became more when she’d playfully asked him if he was ever going to kiss her. He’d been considering it for a long time, so he’d accepted her invitation, kissing her and forming a partnership that lasted twenty years. Her parents hadn’t been thrilled with her choice of boyfriend—a charity case hockey player from Canada—but they had changed their tune about him when Eric signed his first NHL contract.