Fuck, he couldn’t let this dickhead Bamalama suck him into retaliating and taking a stupid penalty. He’d let that asshole dig himself into a hole, if he wanted to play that kind of bullshit game.
Duncan was skating hard for the puck again in the Wolves zone when Girolama leveled a hard hit on him into the boards. He felt it coming, knew how to absorb the shock and make sure Lama felt Duncan’s elbow in his ribs when he hit him, but Christ, it still gave him a jolt. He skated it off, following the play as Hallsy and Girolama battled on and on for the puck against the boards in the other corner. Blow the fucking whistle! Christ, this was going to go on all night! He shoved in and got his own stick in there just as the whistle blew.
Shit.
His shift done, he skated to the bench and sat, sucking wind. One of the trainers handed him a towel and he wiped off his visor, inside and out. “You okay after that hit?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
He watched Duper take the face-off, losing it to the Wolves. “Shit!” Smythe of the Wolves hung on to it near his own goal as they set up their play. “Get on ’em, boys, get on ’em!” Duncan yelled.
As Smythe passed the puck to Dvorak at the point, huge Girolama headed to the net. Hughie was on him, trying to engage him at the top of the blue paint, keeping Stoykers free to defend the net, but somehow all three of them tangled up together, and Stoykers was buried. Smythe managed to tip Dvorak’s shot from the point into the net.
Goddammit.
Duncan thought the top of his head was going to blow off from rage. And Stoykers was pissed too, standing up and throwing his arms in the air as he yelled something at the ref. Duper was already “discussing” things with the other ref, skating slowly backward toward the bench as they conversed.
“That was goalie interference,” Duncan griped to Hallsy beside him.
“Absofuckinglutely.”
“Fuck yeah,” Pauly said. “How’s he supposed to stop a shot with two guys lying on top of him?”
“He was in the crease, no question.”
They all fumed as they watched the replay.
“Okay, okay.” Duncan swung his legs over the boards to jump on the ice with his line as the other line came off. “Don’t get frustrated. We’re good here.”
They had last change. Coach changed things up and put Duper out on center with him and Hallsy. Duper won this one, once again getting it neatly onto Duncan’s stick, but when he passed to Hallsy, fucking Smythe intercepted for the Wolves, doing a neat little spin to avoid being hit, and started back to his own end.
“Fuck!” Duncan skated hard, arms pumping. This team wasn’t that great, but the Aces couldn’t make stupid mistakes like that. Hughie on defense took Smythe out, holding on to the puck and circling behind the net. They all moved into position as the Wolves made their line change. Oh, for fuck’s sake, here came Bamalama again.
Hughie started out, carrying the puck and passing it to Hallsy, who passed it to Duper, who passed it to Duncan coming up on the wing. In a heartbeat, Duncan assessed his shooting lane, saw it wasn’t going to work, and passed back to Duper, who one-timed it. Duncan watched the puck sail behind Chaney and into the net. His hands were in the air before the goal light even went on, and Duper went to a knee and gave a fist pump.
Duncan skated straight at him to throw his arms around him. “Nice shot!”
They were surrounded by the rest of their teammates.
“Perfect pass.” Duper gave him a huge grin and a tap on the helmet.
As Duncan skated toward the bench, he couldn’t help but glance up at Amber and Lovey, who were standing along with everyone else in the building, clapping and cheering. Lovey was bouncing up and down as the team’s victory song, “Master of Puppets” by Metallica, blasted.
“Aces first goal of the game, his twenty-sixth of the season, scored by number nineteen, Captain Marc Dupuis!” More cheers and applause. “Assisted by number thirty-three, Duncan Armstrong, and number eleven, Max Hall!”
“That’s how we respond, boys,” Duncan yelled. “That’s huge.”
Coach gave him a pat on the back and Duncan nodded.
“Keep goin’ at ’em,” Duncan yelled to the line on the ice. “Keep at ’em, let’s go.”
He squirted water into his mouth and spit it out, then did it again.
He watched the play, eyes following the puck down the ice back toward the Wolves’ net. Down in the Wolves’ zone, Hughie got the pick and chipped off the boards onto Pilker’s stick. He drove to the net as two Wolves defensemen raced in, one of them diving onto his belly to block the shot. Duncan’s eyebrows flew up as Pilker did a little drag and curl, slowing, and somehow hanging on to the puck, as the D-man slid past him, then shot it right into the net.
Duncan leaped to his feet to cheer along with the rest of his teammates on the bench, then reached over to extend his hand for Pilker to tap it as he skated by a moment later in celebration of their second goal.