CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The series against Buffalo passed in a blur. Dom felt like all he did was play hockey, eat and sleep.

Buffalo's arena had shitty ice as usual, but they were well-matched teams and August had been right about their PK unit.

Gilly spent the first few games screaming at them for taking unnecessary penalties and it wasn't until they hit game four, down 3-0, that something seemed to click for the Fisher Cats.

"Do you want a repeat of last season?" he roared before the game started. "Or do you want to fucking win ?"

They won.

They won game four.

They won game five.

They won game six.

Game seven was the hardest game Dom had ever played in his life.

But after, sweat-soaked and shaking from exertion, he shouted his joy as Matty slammed into him with a bone-rattling collision.

"We're going on to the Final!" he shouted and Matty grinned.

"Fuck yeah we are!"

Dom shook hands with the defeated Buffalo players and coaches. He didn't have any animosity toward most of the guys, offering shoulder or chest taps in addition to the handshakes, especially for ones he'd played with previously or knew from international events.

But still, the sweet victory of redemption sang in his veins after the abysmal turnover he'd had last season that had put the Fisher Cats in a precarious position and allowed Buffalo to score.

Dom tried not to snicker when Jonah shook Dallas Sutton's hand and blandly said, "Good game," to him.

It must have been sweet vindication for Jonah too after the fight he'd had last season with Sutton, the one that had cost them the game and the series.

"Bet you're feeling pretty good right now," he said to Jonah as they lined up on the ice for the presentation of the Prince of Wales Trophy.

Jonah grinned. "No idea what you're talking about."

Someone passed out Eastern Conference winner hats and Dom pushed his soaking wet hair off his forehead, settling the hat in place. He probably looked like a wreck now, the sweat beginning to cool on his skin, his hair and beard scruffy and scraggly.

A reporter spoke to Dustin and Matty, and then Dom skated over for his short interview.

She smiled. "What do you think went differently in your matchup against Buffalo this season?"

"Well, we stayed out of the penalty box for one," Dom said with a laugh. "And I stopped making terrible turnovers."

"It seems like you've settled into your new role with the team. Would you agree?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Honestly, something just clicked for me this season and I've been better able to focus on what my role was and doing it to the best of my ability."

"Some of that has included winning faceoffs and setting up plays. How do you feel knowing you got the final faceoff win and second assist on the game-winning goal?"

"It's a great feeling," Dom admitted. "Our team is coming together. I want to give Yates credit for this win though. He's has been tearing it up this season and, you know, I think we're all incredibly proud of how well he's done. Anything I can do to help him play well is good for the team and I think we're all glad to have him centering our top line. He's proven himself recently."

"Thank you, Dom. And congratulations! Good luck in the Final."

"Thank you." He beamed.

He skated back over to the cluster of players who stood near the table holding the Prince of Wales trophy, then slipped into position for a photo.

"Hey," one of the Black Aces said over the noise of the crowd, nudging Dom in the rib with his elbows, then nodding at the trophy. "Are you touching that?"

"Fuck no." Dom snorted. "Not a chance."

Maybe it was just superstition that the team who touched it would lose the Final but Dom wasn't about to chance it. Not this time.

Once the coaches, trainers, and other support staff had come out too, they posed for photos.

As Dom smiled at the camera, he wondered if Shea was watching him on TV right now. He hadn't made it to the game tonight but he'd promised to watch.

I love you , he thought, wishing he'd come up with a signal to show Shea that he was thinking about him. Something discreet but meaningful.

He loved Shea and his team and this game and damn, life was good.

Whatever happened in the final round, life was good.