Shea

Playoffs.

Damn playoffs.

I have a love-hate relationship with the playoffs. Watching or playing them. Either way, the human body is not made to experience such high levels of adrenaline and anxiety combined. However, the feeling is addictive. Playoffs guarantee a winner and a loser. They also guarantee the inability to sit still.

And potentially have a heart attack. How many times have I watched the Canucks in the playoffs while clutching my abnormally thumping chest?

I skid to a stop, sending a wave of snow against the boards. I've skated fifteen laps around our half of the ice. We're facing Penticton in the first round of the playoffs. Brenna's team is playing Rutland. Vernon is against Winfield. Summerland and Enderby. The pairings are even across the board, and I hope like hell we can beat Penticton and Vernon can beat Winfield. I want to take Connor's team down. I want to drive them into the mud, and so does Catina. KJ and Jayden. Basically anyone who hates Connor. 

"Fucking Connor," she says as she skates up next to me. "Why is he here? I thought they played tonight."

I shake my head, glancing into the stands. Connor is sitting with several of his newfound buddies. They're a couple sections over from where Brenna, Tucker, and the rest of the gang are sitting. Scoping out potential opponents. If they can beat Winfield. "Vernon's series starts tomorrow like Brenna's does. Best of three. We have to win two games to eliminate Penticton."

Cat taps me on the shins with her goalie stick. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"That's Captain Smith to you."

"Careful, Smith. I was starting to like you."

Catina continues to blab on. She's discussing potential plays and the weaknesses she's noticed within Penticton's team. It doesn't take a genius to know what she's doing. Wasting my energy by skating around isn't a good idea. It might tire me out or allow the nerves to get to my head.

She claps me on the back. "Two games. That's all we have to win."

I grunt in response, watching as Penticton's team warms up. We're locked in second with Penticton within the Okanagan. West Kelowna's first.

"Don't tell me you're nervous," she teases. "Not that I can't understand why you'd be nervous. Having the best player in the league watching you must be nerve-wracking."

This time, a smile curves across my lips. Yeah, maybe Brenna's presence makes me nervous. But that doesn't mean I don't want to play hockey. I want to. And I want to play the best I can for her. That's why we're so good together. We make each other want to be better.

Slipping my stick beneath my arm, I remove my helmet and run a hand through my hair. My breath comes out in a white puff, dissipating into the air. "Not nervous because she's here, Cat. I'm glad she's here to watch us play."

I put emphasis on "us" because Brenna isn't here to just watch me. She's psyched that Catina's here, carving out another spot for a female hockey player. Having Cat has helped Brenna in ways I couldn't, which puts my mind at ease. When Brenna first started attending counselling, she was looking rough.

Now? Now she's put on some weight and that sparkle is back in her blue-violet eyes. A warm feeling spreads through my chest.

"Then why?" Cat asks.

I expel a deep sigh. No one knows about my scholarship yet or my acceptance letter. Tonight, scouts are here watching this game. How do I know? Coach told us. I can't help but wonder if any of them are from Boston University. If they're watching to see if they made the right decision by giving me a full-ride scholarship. "Scouts are here."

Catina wrinkles her nose. "Can't relate to that."

A crease forms between my brows. "What do you mean? They're watching you and Brenna, too. There're the Olympics or the U18 Championships."

She chuckles. "U18 has passed, Smith. I'll be turning eighteen this year. So will Brenna."

I gnaw on my tongue for several seconds. Fine. She has a point. "Still, there're the Olympics. And there's talk about a professional women's league. It was the highlight of the hockey world this past January."

Catina sighs, tapping me on the shins again. "I appreciate the effort, Shea, but we know it'll be years before women have anything comparable to the NHL. Let alone anything that equals equality. Look at the previous league Brenna and I played for. We didn't have buses shuttling us to tournaments in Kamloops. Nor did we have names on the backs of our jerseys. Hockey is a sport dominated by white men. There are only a handful of black players within the NHL. Maybe two or three Indigenous. As for commentators? All you see are complaints when women like Cassie Campbell-Pascal narrate national games. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Of course I do. Brenna and I have had this discussion several times. It's disheartening. I direct my gaze to the ice. If I ever make the NHL, things will change. Why shouldn't women be able to have careers as professional hockey players? Passion is passion, and I know Brenna's passion for hockey is almost incomparable to mine. She lives and breathes the sport. Which is saying a lot because I do, too.

"If I make the NHL, I'll do something about it. I don't give a shit about what people think of me."

Media will rip me apart. Assholes on social media will try to convince me women's hockey is boring and pointless. That hockey is a male sport.

Again, Catina chuckles. "I don't find that hard to believe. We'll be cheering from the sidelines, Shea. Now, come on. We need to get our heads in the game."

Without another word, Cat skates away, leaving me leaning against the boards and staring at Penticton's team.

* * *

"Hey goalie, I've seen coupons that save more than you."

"Fuck off, Alderson. You've been scratched more times than a lottery ticket."

That's what Catina shouts at Penticton's leading scorer after she saves his shot. While he's an outstanding player, he's been susceptible to injuries this season. Which makes Catina's jab at him accurate. Poor kid's been benched at least four times. 

While it's a pretty jab, it pisses off Alderson. He charges at her. His fist is up in the air as he tosses his stick and gloves to the ground, and glides across the ice.

Although I've been the instigator of fights before, fighting during the playoffs costs the team. We want to keep this one-nothing lead and not risk losing it through a stupid penalty. So before Cat can get close to Alderson or vice versa, I step between them. My hand rests on Alderson's shoulder.

"Back off, Alderson. We don't want any penalties. Let's just calm down." I glance over my shoulder at Cat. "You, too, Torsney."

Catina huffs and turns away, removing her goalie mask and grabbing her water bottle. She squeezes water into her mouth, and I watch as some of it dribbles down her chin, spotting her sweaty hockey sweater. She tosses her water bottle back into the holder atop the mesh net, mumbling words of profanity.

I turn back to Alderson. My hand is still gripping his shoulder. "Are we cool, Alderson?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "Let's just play the game. No need to deflect someone's skill with nasty comments."

He snorts as he shrugs me off. "Look who's talking. Everyone knows you and Harrison are fucking. Why you're fucking. That bitch is so gullible. She's like a pack of Timbits. For two dollars, I can share her with the rest of the team. Pliable but useless."

My self-control snaps in an instant. In one breath, I'm trying to calm the tension between Cat and Alderson. In the next, I've shed my gloves and am fisting his jersey, swinging my other fist to contact his jaw and nose. Blood spurts from his nose, staining his jersey and dotting the ice below our skates. He throws punches back, and I her the crowd roaring. 

Before the refs can intervene, I have Alderson pinned down on the ice. I give him a rough shove. "Do you want to repeat that?" I spit. "Actually, on second thought, maybe you shouldn't repeat that. Maybe you should tell me you misspoke. Otherwise, I'll fucking kill you. No one speaks about Brenna that way and gets away with it."

He spits out a mouthful of blood. Chokes on a strangled laugh. "You're a fucking joke, Smith. The biggest misogynist and hypocrite in the league. Was it not you who agreed to fuck her over? To remove her from the league by breaking her heart? Everyone knows you're still manipulating her, and kicking Connor to another team was a way to allocate the blame elsewhere. You'll be sorry when this blows up in your face."

While Alderson's edging me on, my blood continues to boil. Shame also permeates my chest. I'll never be proud of my previous behaviour. How I treated Brenna was wrong, and I'll continue to remind myself about that until the day I die.

"People can change," I say through gritted teeth. "Connor got what he deserved. And so did I."

"Hypocrite."

That's the last word Alderson says before his fist connects with my cheek. Where the force comes from, I'm unsure, but there's enough momentum to send me flying.

I roll onto the ice, clutching the welt on my cheek. "Shit." That will leave a nasty bruise. One that'll earn me a talking to from Coach and, later, from Brenna.  

Retaliation is strong in my blood, but before I can do anything, the refs intervene. Soon enough, we're on our feet, exchanging chirps as we're guided to the benches. Despite there being a period left, we're being ejected from the game. Both of us are bleeding and... well... the fight didn't really have a legitimate reason to occur. 

As much as I want to stay on the ice, I can't argue with the refs. Although Alderson instigated the fight, I partook in it. Being Captain, this isn't my strongest moment. And I can feel the responsibility weighing heavily on my chest.

On the bench, KJ taps me on the shins with his hockey stick. "I'm sure he deserved it."

My lips press into a firm line, and I glance over my shoulder. Across the ice, I see Brenna standing. Her hand is pressed against the glass and she looks disappointed. I duck my head in shame. We promised our relationship wouldn't mess with hockey. The reaction I had, despite it being a well-deserved consequence for Alderson, wasn't right. I'm the captain. My heart is supposed to be in the game. Not personal issues. I let his comments go straight to my head, setting a poor example for my team.

Before continuing down the hallway to the locker room, I look at KJ. "Just because he deserved it doesn't mean it's right."

Removing my helmet, I tuck it under my arm and run a hand through my hair. A soft curse escapes my lips as I shake away the sweat.

I just failed everyone in that arena, scouts and Brenna included.