Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I wondered what the announcers were saying, then I stopped thinking about it and took my own advice. No matter what, this was just another hockey game. Tyler’s line came off, and second line went in with the third-line center filling in for Bruge until he got out of the box.
I felt Tyler’s gaze on me a couple times, but I just watched the game, dissecting everything like I usually did. So far, the Grays were playing smoothly. After Bruge came out of the box, and my brother as well, the team kept strong. Sunny scored, with an assist from Tyler. They made sure to celebrate as close to the Montreal’s bench as possible. And every single one of the Grays players looked over, finding my brother as they skated past.
I didn’t go into the locker room during the period break. I usually didn’t, preferring to let them keep to their routine. I stayed back and went over some notes. When it was time for the second period to start, the crowd was on their feet. Montreal hit the ice, and a chant rose up from the stands.
It took a second before I figured out the words.
“Fuck you, Daniel. Fuck you! Fuck you, Daniel. Fuck you!”
Javier, one of the assistant coaches, came over and showed me his tablet. He’d pulled up a clip from when Tyler and my brothers played in the state championship against each other. The crowd had chanted a similar jeer, “Fuck you, Griffin. Fuck you!”
These fans had turned it around.
“I think they went for your brother’s first name because of you,” Javier said. “We’ve got a Connors too.”
I grinned. “It’s perfect. Makes it more personal for Daniel.” I was a little horrified that my nieces could hear this, but hockey fans were going to do what hockey fans were going to do. The chant wouldn’t last long.
What I didn’t say was that it wasn’t likely to get in Daniel’s head. If anything, my brother would thrive on the attention and the booing. He always liked it when the other team’s fans hated him. That made him bigger and badder in their minds. And I saw it happening in real time. His chest puffed out and a cocky, shit-eating grin spread on his face. It was visible through his visor.
He skated past our bench, finding me, and I shook my head, trying to convey that I knew what he was thinking. He was so fast that I don’t know if it worked.
“He thinks he’s such a legend.”
I drew up short, surprised to find Meester had come up next to me. “What?”
“It’s making it worse, isn’t it?” He held up a glove toward the fans. “He’s getting off on it.”
I noted some of the fourth-line players paying attention to our conversation. I tapped one of them on the shoulder. “Take my brother out.”
“Huh?” He gaped at me.
Their fourth-line winger’s head snapped toward me, but he didn’t say anything.
“He wants to fuck with our heads, but let’s fuck with his instead,” I told them. “My brother thinks this game is about him. It’s not. He’s not some hockey god among the mortals. He’s just like you. Let’s remind him of that. If a fourth-liner checks him, he’ll feel disrespected.”
One of the other guys leaned forward. “How about if only the fourth line goes after him?”
I fought back a smile. That would curdle my brother’s blood. I met his eyes, keeping my voice neutral. “This is hockey, boys. Remember what I said in the locker room. Have fun.” I paused. “However you deem that should be.”
The matching grins on their faces sent a chill through me.
Javier whistled, moving aside. “This should be fun,” he mumbled. He went over to Coach Hines, and their heads bent together for a moment. Coach glanced my way, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes before he barked out, “Fourth line, you’re going to stay out a little longer for a few rounds.”
He’d just given his approval. My brother was going to hate it.
For the rest of the second period, the fourth line as a whole went after my brother, but only the fourth line. It pissed my brother off, but he tried to rally. The crowd didn’t understand what was going on. Their “fuck you, Daniel” chant had petered out, so now they just booed anytime he was on the ice.
Knowing Daniel, though, he didn’t even hear their boos. He never had. He could tune them out. I knew because I’d been part of his training.
The second period ended right after Montreal scored. But they would still go into the third period down by one.
“You want to say anything?” Marken paused next to me as everyone headed down the tunnel. “Coach Hines wants to know.”
“No. Just do what you normally do.”
“Will do.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Having him as a brother? People are watching. Fans are watching. And they all know. From my perspective, you’re coming off like a smooth motherfucker. Fans are rallying around you too, if you pay attention.”