Read Online Chasing Stanley by Deirdre Martin - Free Book Online

talisman might somehow divide whatever luck there was to be had between them. But so far, they’d both seemed to do okay.
    He had just pulled his sweater over his head when Michael Dante entered the locker room, already dressed. Michael wasn’t the scowling type, but his hot temper could be a force to reckon with.
    â€œOkay, listen up.” Michael’s voice matched his gaze: calm. “I want us to set the tone for the season from the moment we step out on the ice. We need to let those Jersey assholes and every other team know that no one fucks with us.”
    As if on cue, Ty Gallagher entered. There was total silence as he looked at each and every player in turn. When his gaze fell on Jason, it took every ounce of Jason’s concentration not to look away.
    â€œTalent means shit. Will beats skill every time. We play to win the game—every game. That means I don’t care if it’s the first game of the season or the fiftieth. If you don’t give your all out there, you sit. The Blades have one goal every year: winning the Cup.” Players started banging their sticks on the floor. “All right; let’s get out there and hit ’em in the mouth.”
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    â€œ Get off me , you pussy.”
    Jason laughed at his brother’s taunt. He’d just crushed Eric with a body check so satisfying, he wished he could smoke a cigarette afterward. There was something gratifying about jamming Eric up against the boards; always had been. Sniggering, Jason returned to the Blades’ bench with the rest of the second line, watching avidly as the first line returned to the ice. Jersey was trying to open things up, but the Blades were having none of it. Instead of getting into a pond hockey game, the Blades were playing dump and chase in order to establish physical dominance.
    Jason couldn’t believe the energy rippling through Met Gar. The fans in Minnesota were enthusiastic, but these New Yorkers were nuts, their fanaticism infectious. Jason said a silent prayer thanking the hockey gods for granting his wish to play for the Blades, and waited for Ty to send his line back out onto the ice. They were doing pretty well. His forechecking had led to a couple of scoring chances, and he’d gotten the second assist on Thad Meyers’s goal, the only score of the first period.
    Back on the ice, he was skating the left wing, looking for a breakout pass from defenseman Nick Roberts. They failed to connect, thanks to Eric, who interrupted the attempt and chipped it deep into the Blades’ zone.
    â€œYou wearin’ concrete skates or what, asshole?” Eric jeered.
    â€œFuck you,” Jason snapped.
    And so it went for the rest of the game. Every time Jason met up with his brother, insults were traded along with checks. While Eric didn’t play as chippy as Torkelson, he had his moments. With less than three minutes left in a 2-2 tie, Jason carried the puck into Jersey’s zone when Eric met him with a high hit that included a two-glove face wash.
    â€œYou are one fuckin’ wuss, baby bro,” Eric taunted.
    â€œYeah?” Jason panted. They were battling for the puck in the corner. Eric dug it free and cleared it. They were both on the bench when Michael Dante scored on a seeing eye wrist shot from the top of the circle.
    When the horn sounded, Jason and the rest of the Blades rushed off the bench to congratulate David Hewson. As the two teams slowly cleared the ice, Jason couldn’t resist getting in one more dig.
    â€œWhat happened? I thought you were gonna kick my ass!” Jason called to Eric, who was heading off ice for the locker room. “Decide you’d rather kiss it instead?”
    â€œIt’s a long season, asshole, and payback is a bitch,” Eric called over his shoulder.
    â€œWe’ll see!” yelled Jason.
    Exhilarated, he headed back in to the Blades locker room.
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    â€œGood game!” Michael Dante