Right before the final puck drop, I glance up to find Scarlett’s attention completely riveted on the action. She’s perched on the edge of her seat, biting her nails, trying to catch every detail. I force myself to focus on the face-off, to forget she’s watching, even though her presence is the only thing I can think about besides Coach Jenkins’ warning.
During the opening minutes of the final period, Riley grabs a loose puck in the offensive zone. Even though MacPherson is open on his left, Riley goes for the goal himself, just as an opponent slams into him. He loses possession right as a Checkers center swoops in to steal it.
Jakowski swears under his breath. “He should’ve passed it to MacPherson for the shot.” Then he shoots me a look.
“What?”
“You’re the one who’s been encouraging Riley to showboat out there.”
“I never told him that. I said he’d be a better player if he actually pushed himself during shooting drills.”
“Scoring is not his main responsibility,” Jakowski reminds me. “Everybody knows that—except you, apparently.”
I clench my jaw and turn back to the game. He doesn’t realize that Riley asked me to help him with shooting drills so he could contribute more to the team.
Just then, the Checkers left wing loses control, and Leo steals the puck, racing down the ice and unleashing a shot that finds the back of the net before the goalie can react fast enough. Our fans go wild.
“Anderson looks good tonight.” Coach Jenkins looks over at me. “I think whatever you’re doing with Leo is helping. He’s usually burning out by the third period.”
Jakowski’s pretending not to notice, but the red creeping up his neck tells me he heard.
I may not know everything about coaching yet, but I do understand how to help players. Something Jakowski still hasn’t learned.
The rest of the period is a blur of bodies jostling and players chasing down the puck. At one point, Foster blocks a shot with his hip and then feeds a pass to MacPherson. Twenty seconds later, the puck is in the net and Crushers are up by one.
As the clock runs down, Miles Morgan blocks a shot that’s maybe the best save he’s ever had. When the horn finally blows, we pull off a win—barely. But it’s still a win.
As our fans cheer, I look up into the crowd and spot Scarlett on her feet with her hands raised, a huge smile on her face. Our eyes meet for a second, and there’s pride on her face. For the first time since becoming assistant coach, I leave the game with a smile.
After the media interviews and Coach Jenkins’ post-game speech, the team filters out for the night.
I catch Miles before he escapes, slapping him on the back. “Good game, Morgan.”
“Really?” He lifts his eyebrows, looking cautiously hopeful.
“Yes,really.Way to save the entire game at the end.”
“Thanks, Bren—” His eyes flick nervously to check if I’m going to correct him. “I mean, Coach Marco.”
I let it go and head toward the exit, when Leo intercepts me in the hallway. “Hey, you coming out with the team tonight?”
“Can’t. Need to analyze game footage.”
“Come on, Coach, take a night off. Remember whatfunis? That thing normal humans do for entertainment?”
I think about Scarlett’s earlier comment about saying yes to the guys occasionally. Ever since I became an assistant coach, I’ve been turning down their invitations to go out so I can catch up on game prep, especially since Jakowski has years of experience on me.
“Sorry, Anderson. Jakowski will eat me alive if I’m not ready for the coaches’ meeting in the morning.”
From a side door, I see Lauren sneak Scarlett into the hallway that’s clearly marked for players and staff only.
Her eyes light up when she spots me. “Hey, great game, AC!”
Lauren tilts her head with interest. “Is that your official nickname—AC? Because we could do a social media post introducing you to fans with your new title.”
“Actually, he rejected my other suggestion.” Scarlett flashes me a knowing smirk. “Isn’t that right, Marco?”
I shake my head and chuckle. “Something like that.”