Page 28 of Full Body Hit, Part 1

Chase closed his eyes.

***

Time walked right by Chase.

Hockey had always been the most natural thing in the world for him. Even when everything else was difficult. Even when he lost track of himself—of who he was supposed to be, there was always hockey.

Until now.

If he were better at lying, he’d put it down to the fact that he was playing in the NHL. Every single rookie had a learning curve to climb. It was normal that he hadn’t gotten a goal yet. That his assists were less than a handful. He was getting used to the pace, to the pressure, to being surrounded by players who had been in the game so much longer than him.

But…that wasn’t the problem. Or not the entirety of it.

He was hesitating. Hockey was a fast game—you had a single instant to make a play—and that was the thing he’d always been best at. Finding the hole in the opposition. Being one step ahead of others.

Now, it wasn’t just that other players were better than him…he was worse.

There was a difference.

Every game, he was more desperate to score, and it was disintegrating his play.

He sat on the bench, staring out over the ice. The whistle had just sounded—hand pass—and his teammates were setting up for a faceoff. Auston was taking it, bending at the waist, feet far apart. They were home, so he could rest his stick down first.

The official dropped the puck. There was a little fumbling, the opposing player trying to stick his leg in, but Auston was too quick, swiping it back, Noah going after it easily.

They made it into the defensive zone without having to dump the puck in and chase after it—Auston was good enough to stickhandle past the defensemen, even if they converged on him before he could make it in too deep. He dropped the puck to Sammy, who was already being tagged by one of the DC Eagles, so he rimmed it across the boards to Noah, who loved battling close to the boards, big body more than able to fight for it.

They kept the pressure on for a good while, getting a few shots in, but the Eagles got it out eventually.

The coach tapped Chase on the shoulder. The first line was returning, and Chase hopped the boards with his.

The Eagles had also changed lines, so they were hanging back in their zone with the puck, regrouping.

Chase’s fellow forwards hovered over the Eagles blue line, trying to cut the passing lanes and stifle the neutral zone.

The Eagles got through them anyway, corralling them in the defensive zone. Chase went after the guy with the puck, making him throw it behind the net for his teammate, but Jimmy was there, scrambling for it.

Chase hovered close, just to the right, waiting for Jimmy to get it. He did, and Chase was there, swooping in. An Eagle almost got in his way, but Chase managed to avoid him, sending the puck across the zone to Grigory—

An Eagle appeared from nowhere. Or he’d been there all along, and Chase had just been too blind to see it. He scooped the puck up right in front of the goalie.

The Eagle barely had to do anything, shooting the puck into the net.

Chase’s stomach shrunk as the Eagles cheered, coalescing into a celly.

Fuck.

That was the dumbest turnover Chase had ever caused.

His heart was pounding as he made it to the bench. Noah tapped him on the helmet as he sat down, but Chase didn’t react. He didn’t dare look at the coach.

Look at Auston.

His minutes were cut to almost nothing for the rest of the game.

The goal Chase had caused turned out to be the game-winning goal for the Eagles.

Game-losing goal for the Spirits.