“Good. Pass it on and let’s get the job done.”
After Vancouver incurred a penalty for cross checking, they had the power play and now it was their chance to strike. Victor went after Czenzcho with a fury, Eddie right with him. Tyler circled back, crowding the goal, muscling in with the other defender, just waiting for the opportunity to slide the puck into the net.
Victor got the puck and shot it his way but it was deflected by the defender. Eddie was on it, slamming Czenzcho and scooping up the puck and taking the shot on goal. It was deflected by the goalie but the rebound hit air and dropped.
Ty was right there and sailed it into the net for the score.
They were tied, and the adrenaline hit a fever pitch.
Two minutes later, Eddie slid one in between the goalie’s legs on a two-man breakaway, and that was all she wrote.
Damn satisfying comeback. They’d worked their asses off for this win, and they’d really needed it. They’d lost three out of four on this road trip, and that just flat-out sucked. Tyler was drained and ready to get back on home ice again. Maybe it would help their mojo.
He hit the showers, shoving his head under the steaming hot water to tune out the sound of celebration from his teammates. Not that he didn’t want to take part—he would. Later. Right now he needed to be in his head, thinking about what the hell was wrong with his play the last few games.
He’d done everything right. Hell, they all had. But something wasn’t clicking. He just didn’t know what wasn’t working. Their shots on goal were above average, but they were being outscored and it pissed him off. He couldn’t blame the defense or their goalie, because they won or lost as a team.
He was going to have to study the game films to figure it out. In the meantime, he’d take tonight’s win as a turnaround, be damn glad they were grabbing a flight home, and that he had a couple days off to regroup before a stretch of home games.
He grabbed the soap and scrubbed down, his thoughts moving to Jenna.
He hadn’t seen her since the not-so-subtle brush-off she’d given him that night after they’d gone to the club.
Something about singing had bothered her. He didn’t know what kind of demons she wrestled with, but he knew about needing distance and time alone to think, so he hadn’t pressed it. But he’d missed her, which kind of surprised him. He enjoyed being with her, but he’d figured it was just a fun thing to do—that she was a fun thing to do to pass the time while he was hanging out at the bar.
She wasn’t like a lot of the women he usually dated. She was complex and interesting, and he wondered about her beyond the sex part of their relationship to what she thought and how she felt about things.
He turned off the shower and dragged his fingers through his hair.
Yeah, he couldn’t wait to get back home.
But this time, he was going to play a different kind of game.
“TWO MARGARITAS, ONE WITH EXTRA SALT. ONE BLOODY Mary, one Dewar’s neat, one dirty martini, and three Budweiser drafts.”
Jenna nodded and hustled to fill the waitress’s order, while at the same time sliding two bottles of beer across the bar to her regulars and cashing out a customer who was headed home.
It had been like this since happy hour started.
Work was hell. Hockey had been on every damn night, and the Ice had been traveling, which meant the televisions at the bar had been turned on to the games. She’d been forced to endure Ty’s face and body on multiple screens.
Even worse, she’d felt miserable when they’d dropped the first three games. Try as she might to ignore the games while she tended to her customers, their groans and curses made her look up and see just how badly the Ice had played. And because the media loved to focus in on despair, she’d seen close-up shots of Tyler’s dejected face—along with the other players.
By the end of game three, the frustration and anger had shown on his face, and her stomach had been in knots. She wished it had been a home game so he and the other guys could have come to the bar after for some solace.
All she could think about was how she had dumped him and run like hell that night. He’d been so nice to her, so encouraging about her singing, and she’d only thought of herself. And when he’d needed her she hadn’t even had the courage to pick up the phone and offer verbal support.
Thank God they’d won that fourth game, in an amazing come-from-behind victory, too. The entire third period had been nail-bitingly exuberant. She hoped it was an amazing turnaround and they’d hop on a winning streak with the start of their home games.
Yeah, and what if they hadn’t won? What if they’d lost the entire road trip? What would she have done then?