SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, J.HUGHES

FORTY FIVE

"Boys, tonight we're up against Seattle." Nico shouts, still in full gear, standing in the center of the locker room. His big-ass captain speech echoes around, trying to fire us up after two shitty losses at home. We learned our lessons, though.

This season, we've got a bunch of fresh rookies straight outta college, diving headfirst into the big league. Honestly, these kids are good. People keep yapping about the team being in 'reconstruction,' and sure, whatever, that's true. But guess what? Every damn team's in the same boat. This new batch of young players is ready to take over.

I gotta say, we've got mad potential this year, and I'm all in to make the dream happen.

"Alright, listen up," I start, leaning against the bench. "Tonight, we're not just playing to win. We're playing to remind them who the fuck we are. We're the Devils. We own that ice. And we're not letting anyone forget it."

The guys let out a cheer, and I feel the adrenaline kicking in. I glance around at the rookies, their eyes wide and eager. They've got the fire, and it's our job to keep it burning.

Nico's eyes lock onto me. I let out a groan as I stand, the sound making everyone chuckle. I step to the front, feeling their eyes on me.

"We've got the skill, we've got the drive, and we've got the guts," I continue. "So let's hit the ice and show Seattle what happens when you mess with New Jersey."

Nico gives me a nod, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Hell yeah!" Dougie chimes in, banging his stick on the floor. 

"We need to get our shit together. No more sloppy plays," I say, looking towards Luke without directly addressing him. He doesn't even glance my way, busy taking off his skates like he doesn't give a damn.

"We need to play smart," Allen adds from his corner. "I don't want to see us giving them any freebies."

"Jake's right," I say, walking around the room half-naked, only my bottom gear on. "We need to tighten up our defense. No more easy goals."

A ringtone interrupts my speech, annoying me. No one claims it, and then I realize it's mine. I walk over to my spot, and Bratt looks over my phone, waving it my way. Morgan's picture lights up the screen. It's her second time calling this morning. I couldn't answer since we were on the ice practicing, even though I told her when I woke up that I had practice. She knows damn well we have a game tonight.

"Hey, pick it up, lover boy," Bratt teases, tossing the phone toward me.

"Not now," I mutter, catching it mid-air and declining the call. "Let's focus."

The boys 'ooh' but I wave 'em off. Not tryna play bad cop, just gotta handle business. I'll hit her back in a sec, maybe less.

"Alright, wrap it up, Jacky boy," Timo calls with that Finnish accent.

I turn back to the guys, trying to get everyone's attention again. "Right, where was I? Look, we've got the skills, we've got the talent. Let's stop playing like we're scared and start showing these guys why they should fear us. We play as a team, we win as a team. No more hero plays, just solid hockey."

Amidst the cheers echoing through the locker room, I grab my phone and slip away as gear starts hitting the floor.

I call her back. She answers, her voice soft on the line. "Hey, M, I'm soooo sorry I missed your calls," I apologize, feeling bad for not picking up the first two times. Normally, I'd be on it from the first ring, but not today.

"It's okay, Jack. Don't worry about it. I was just bored, so I thought I'd give you a call," she reassures me.

"How you doing, my love?" I ask, leaning against the wall.