Page 46 of Two for Charging

Lindy sent them out for the third with a warning. “They’ll be playing desperate, boys. No one wants to be shown up at home, least of all on opening night.”

Her warning proved correct. It took all of three minutes before Denisov caught a lucky bounce from Nieminen deflecting a shot and sniped a goal in the five-hole. The Sea Lions were still up by two, but from the level of intensity on the bench, Chicago might as well have equalized. Howie’s line, who were on the ice when Denisov scored, took it especially hard and pushed their luck, grinding out the puck in tough corners and board battles. They got chances, but Goalie Number One blocked them every time, intent on not worsening his performance for the night.

“I hope Howie isn’t straining his hip too much,” Tom muttered, eyes on the action.

“He’s not you.” Jax tapped his stick against Tom’s.

If Jax meant to say Howie was in any way more sensible than Tom, Luca thought he would be severely disappointed.

With ten minutes left on the clock, Chicago got sloppy. Their lacking depth meant the first and second lines, the only ones to generate any real chances, spent too much time in play and ran out of steam long before the end of the game. Dmitriyev blocked three shots from Denisov in quick succession and shouted something at him in Russian, which had Fedorov snickering on the bench. It would probably have been an unsportsmanlike call if the refs had spoken Russian.

Luca ought to remember that trick, although few others in the league spoke Italian, making it far less funny.

A messy shift change meant a too-many-men penalty for Chicago. Luca winced. Now, they’d embarrassed themselves on top of what was shaping up to be a bad game for them anyway. The fans had little mercy for how bad they must feel already, booing and jeering. Luca hopped the boards for the power play, accompanied by Howie this time.

As soon as they reached the face-off circle, it became clear Denisov hadn’t given up the hunt on Howie. By rights, he shouldn’t even have been on the Firecrackers’ penalty kill as he wasn’t much of a two-way player. Had he joined it for this shift purely to settle the score with Howie? It certainly seemed so; whenever the ref’s back was turned, Denisov crowded Howie, menace clear in every inch of his punchable smirk.

What had Howie done to this man? Denisov had a reputation as a hard, physical player, but not as a bully.

The entire time their unit was on the ice, he dogged Howie, covering him so thoroughly Howie couldn’t so much as try to catch a pass. Denisov didn’t seem to care when Luca got Jax the puck and he attempted a shot on goal, unfortunately saved by Number One; Howie consumed his entire focus.

As Luca skated toward the bench for the end of the shift, he heard Howie spit, “What is your problem, man?”

The rustle of the shift change meant Luca didn’t catch the answer, but Howie hadn’t left the ice, so he missed his opportunity to switch out for Fedorov. Denisov trapped himself in the same double shift and lost energy fast. Howie had the advantage of speed, being smaller and slighter—a joke when compared with Luca, who was smaller and slighter by far than Howie—but when contrasted with Denisov, Howie looked like a teenager in his father’s skating gear.

When Mooney managed to nab the puck away from one of Chicago’s slower D-men, he shot it toward Howie, who gained enough space from Denisov that he managed to snipe a shot right around Denisov’s left and over Goalie Number One’s shoulder without high-sticking Denisov in the face.

Denisov would have deserved it, in Luca’s opinion.

The game ended 4–1 for the Sea Lions, and Denisov’s dark expression as he filed off the ice was rivaled only by Goalie Number One’s scowl.

“Perhaps he should change his number to four now,” Luca joked to Breezy in the locker room.

Mooney overheard, repeated it louder, and soon the whole room was laughing at the goalie’s expense.

Over in the corner, Howie answered a question from Olivia Starling, the beat reporter who had followed them to Chicago, in his post-game media segment. Better him than Luca. Howie actually enjoyed media attention and fared much better under it. Still, Luca crossed his fingers it would end fast; Howie had taken painkillers, and Luca didn’t trust Starling not to take advantage of a loosened tongue.

“You took a pretty hard hit in the second,” she asked without asking.

“Yeah, I definitely felt that one.”

“Looked personal.” There it was. She could never stick to asking about hockey, always had to make it a human-interest story. In this case, Luca could forgive her. He was curious too.

Howie laughed but couldn’t hide his discomfort as he shifted in place. “I mean, I personally wanted to win, and I’m sure Da—uh, Denisov did too. I don’t think there’s anything else to it.”

Starling opened her mouth to ask again, but Chelsea pointed to someone else. Luca exhaled in relief. The painkillers hadn’t loosened Howie’s tongue too much, then.

“Kilian, analysts can’t seem to decide if the Sea Lions are going to tank or win it all after last season’s upheavals. What do you think after your first game of the season?”

An insouciant grin crept across Howie’s face. “I mean. Four to one. Kinda speaks for itself, huh?”

“Tough night to be Henderson—in goal for the Firecrackers, huh?”

“Yeah.” Howie glanced over to Luca. “I think I heard Mazetti say he should change his number to four, eh?”

The reporters laughed. Luca winced. He’d just made an enemy for life.

Mooney, catching his guilty expression, shrugged. “We see him three times a season, max, and he won’t get the start in every game. Anyway, he can’t be more butthurt about the game than Denisov.”