Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Nolan
M ost people think a hockey goalie isn't a physical position. They think that since we're not getting slammed into the boards or dropping gloves every two minutes to fight that we're not as physical as the other players. Those people are idiots.
Goalies have the most physical position in the sport.
Cadogan, a huge fucker on the other team who probably should be on a football field instead of an ice rink, comes sliding toward me on his chest. The prick is trying to take out my ankles. I dive over him and land on my shoulder with a grunt.
The ref blows his whistle as Cadogan smashes through my net, taking it off the pegs. He crashes into the boards behind me as McKinstry comes storming over to make him pay for the cheap shot.
"You okay, Spiderman?" Sebastian asks with a grin as he grabs my arm and pulls me up .
I glance up at the jumbotron and grin when I see the replay. I got some good height on that one. "All good, buddy."
Players are always looking for an opportunity to slam into goalies. We're target number one out here.
But it's not just the occasional human wrecking ball that goalies have to contend with. We're on the ice for the entire game. No bench breaks for us. We have to maintain a high level of focus and physical readiness for the full sixty minutes, plus overtime if need be.
We must have the fastest reflexes out here. Diving saves, acrobatic stops—all with the added weight of our gear and while balancing on skates.
There's a scuffle behind me and McKinstry gets thrown into the penalty box. I love the guy and I appreciate the support, but if he really wants to support me, he can stay on the damn ice for once. My job is infinitely harder when we're down one player.
The net gets reattached and the game resumes.
We're playing the Indianapolis Grizzlies tonight. It's the last game of the season. We're already in the playoffs, but we want to finish strong by winning the season out.
The Grizzlies get the puck back into our zone and I glance up at the clock.
A minute and a half left to play. We're up by one. It's 4 - 3.
Time to focus.
They have an extra player thanks to McKinstry sitting in the damn penalty box, so they're controlling the play. My eyes are locked on the puck as they pass it back and forth.
That behemoth, Cadogan, returns and stands in front of me, blocking my view. He's trying to get me to lose sight of the puck. It's only going to take a split second of confusion for one of those guys to slip the puck under my pads or between my legs.
Not going to happen .
I push Cadogan in the back. He's so goddamn big that he barely moves. I still can't see shit. I push him harder and he stumbles forward, giving me some space.
I lose sight of the puck for a second and that's all it takes. The puck comes flying toward the tiny spot of open net under my elbow. I yank my arm down and that satisfying thud fills my ears as I stop it.
My acrobatics isn't the only reason why Sebastian calls me Spiderman. I have a spidey sense for the puck. I can feel it around me. I seem to know where it is even when I don't know where it is. It's from a lifetime of practice, I guess. That muscle memory runs deep in my bones.
The puck lands on the ice and I dive on it as Cadogan tries to get his stick there first. I cover it up, so that big prick gives me a couple of hard knocks on the face mask with his stick. I cover the puck until the ref blows his whistle.
Music starts blaring in the packed arena as the ref takes the puck and I stand back up.
Forty-seven seconds left.
I take a deep breath as their goalie skates to the bench and an extra player skates out.
They have forty-seven seconds to score, so they've pulled their goalie to give them a leg up. With McKinstry in the penalty box, we're outnumbered six to four.
It's time to put on a show.
This is all me.
I roll my shoulders and bounce around as the centers line up for the face-off.
It's time to earn my paycheck. My enormous paycheck.
I'm making eight million a year to stop that puck and that's exactly what I'm going to do.
The puck drops and the Grizzlies grab it. There's an immediate shot on net that I stop with my stick. It bounces away and the players explode into action around me.
They have an extra two players, so they keep control of the puck. Cadogan gets in my face again. I push him so hard he falls to his knees.
The shot comes in when I'm out of position. I leap to the side, my knees groaning in agony, and stop the puck. Cadogan grabs the rebound as I land on the ground. He flicks it up into the open corner, but I twist and contort my body into an unnatural position and stop it with my glove.
It spins away. The center of the Grizzlies comes flying in from behind the net, grabs it, and shoots. I yank my leg up and stop it again.
And again. And again.
Two more saves. The home crowd is going nuts.
I'm on my back now as the defender gets it. He unleashes a devastating slapshot on the nearly open net.
I reach up and do a beautiful butterfly save, catching it in my glove.
The crowd is roaring as I drop the back of my head onto the ice, taking deep breaths as I stare up at the giant lights overhead. The ref blows his whistle.
There aren't a lot of goalies in the world who can stop six shots in ten seconds. I'm one of them. That's why I come with such a high price tag.
I don't want to brag, but I'm the best in the league. When it comes to speed and flexibility, I'm unmatched. Gymnastics, yoga—I do it all. I'll do anything to keep my body flexible, which also helps prevent injuries so I can stay on the ice longer than the next guy.
I want to be the best goalie who's ever lived. I want to beat Ken Dryden's insane save percentage over my career. I want to be a legend.
The game starts up again, but this time, Sebastian gets the puck and passes it back to Harris. Harris launches it to the other side of the rink and it slides easily into the open net.
There are seventeen seconds left, but the game is already over .
We win.
Again.
"I'm telling you, man," Austin says as we get dressed in the locker room. "True love is the most amazing thing you'll ever experience."
He's talking about his new girl, Norah. She was his realtor. The guy went off to buy a house, but came back with a fiancée instead. Pathetic.
"I just stopped the puck six times in ten seconds in front of a roaring crowd," I say with a laugh as I put on my pants. "Experiences don't get more amazing than that."
Austin chuckles as he shakes his head knowingly. "You'll see."
"Fuck, Barlowe," Sebastian says as he comes over with his towel wrapped around his waist. His brown hair is all wet from the shower. "You looked like a ninja out there. Were you born in the Matrix?"
"It doesn't work like that," Austin says.
Sebastian looks at him funny. "Huh?"
"You're not born in the Matrix," Austin explains. "You're born in the real world and released from the Matrix."
"I'd like to release you from the real world," Sebastian says with a hard stare.
"Yeah, me too," I say with a laugh. "He keeps talking about falling in love. He's turning this locker room into a damn rom com."
The door to the coach's office bursts open and Coach Moss storms out. He's flanked by his two assistant coaches.
Everyone immediately quiets down. We all like and respect Coach Moss.
He's firm and tough, and he knows his shit.
I like that in a coach .
I didn't grow up with a dad or with any uncles, so my coaches were the only male role models I had.
My mother was too busy working to date. She had it rough, grueling through minimum wage jobs, but she still made sure to always put enough money aside to pay for my hockey registration and to buy all of those expensive pads that I was always growing out of way too fast.
She's my number one inspiration. She's why I've always been so dedicated.
I wanted her investment in me to pay off. I wanted to support her, retire her, and buy her a mansion. I've done all that, except for the mansion. She refused to let me buy her a new house. She loves her little townhouse in the city because she's close to all of her friends.
I pimped it out though as soon as I got my first check. New furniture, appliances, and I changed all of the leaky pipes, the breezy old windows, and the linoleum floor which she always hated.
I give her money too, whatever she needs. And once a year, I pay for her and her three best friends to go on a big trip. This year, they're all going to New Zealand.
"Alright, listen up," Coach Moss bellows as everyone gathers around. "Good game tonight. How about that Nolan Barlowe, huh?"
He points at me with a grin and everyone cheers and claps. I get so many smacks on my back and hands ruffling my hair that I can't help but smile and blush a little.
It always means a lot when a coach singles me out.
"For the first time in six years, the Hyenas are in the playoffs," he says and everyone goes ape shit, banging on the lockers and benches as they hoot and holler. "Alright, shut up!"
Everyone settles down and he talks about the upcoming schedule for the week. We have a lot to do to get ready for the playoffs .
"Fundraiser tomorrow," Coach Moss says and everyone groans.
"I don't want to hear it," he snaps. "It's a big deal. The governor will be there, the mayor, a ton of rich CEOs, and some other A-listers that I've never heard of."
The billionaire owner of our team, Brantley Van Morgan, is throwing a charity fundraiser for the children's hospital tomorrow night on his super yacht.
"There will be a show," Coach says. "Some pop singer."
"Who?" Edvard asks, perking up.
"Um, Gemini-something…"
"Gemini-X?" Edvard says with a huge smile on his face.
"Yeah, that's it," Coach grumbles.
"I call dibs!" Edvard shouts so loud everyone can hear him.
"You are all required to be in attendance," Coach says in a firm voice. "It is mand-a-tory. And bring your checkbook. Don't be cheap, it's for the kids."
"What's a checkbook?" Carlton, one of the young rookies, asks.
Coach stares at him with a blank face. "Are you serious?"
Carlton looks around in confusion. "What?"
"How old are you?"
Carlton gulps. "Nineteen."
Coach rolls his eyes and continues. "Bring your Bitcoin card or whatever the fuck you pay with. Eight o'clock at the pier. VanMorgan's super yacht is leaving with or without you. It better be with you."
I take a deep breath as I try not to look annoyed. The last thing I want to do on my day off is spend it with a bunch of snooty rich people.
"Now," Coach continues, "if you haven't noticed, there's no ocean outside the window, so it's a three-hour drive. Leave accordingly."
Three hours? What the fuck ?
"I want to see you all dressed nicely ," he says as his stern eyes roam around the room. "That means suits and ties, and no fucking running shoes. I want to see you sober. I want to see you well-behaved, well-mannered, and well-groomed."
One of the defenders, Thatcher is leaning against his locker in only his jockstrap. Coach points at it.
"And keep your jockstrap in your pants if you know what I mean. This is a work event. Your boss—me—will be in attendance. Your boss boss—VanMorgan—will also be present. Don't make a fool of yourself. And leave the women alone. I don't care if Gemini-Z?—"
"Gemini-X," Edvard interrupts.
Coach glares at him. "I don't care if Gemini-any-letter-of-the-fucking-alphabet says she wants you on the spot, you are to be-fucking-have. That goes with all the women there."
The guys are shooting each other sullen glances as the coach finishes up.
"Great game tonight," he repeats. "And I'll see you all tomorrow."
He returns to his office with his two assistants at his sides. As soon as the door closes, the locker room is full of chatter again.
"Gemini-X," Edvard says as he comes over with a low whistle. "Even the coach can't stop me from going after her."
"She's way out of your league, dude," Sebastian says with a laugh. "Didn't she date the lead singer of Trite Dynamite?"
"You'll see," Edvard says as he walks away, chuckling like a madman. "The Sweet Swede always gets the girl."
I grab my shirt and pull it on as Austin turns to me. "Do you want to drive down with me and Norah?"
"Nah," I say as I button my shirt. "Thanks though, I'm going to stay solo."
There's no way I want to spend three hours each way in a car with a happy couple yapping in my ear .
I just want to get in and out as quickly as I can.
The night will be nothing more than a chore.
But hey, at least it's for the kids.