Taylor jumped the boards with Rachel and Dani, her blades hitting the ice with a loud scratching noise as she took off toward the puck. The surface was rough, too rough, causing the puck to bounce and skip. For once, it bounced in their favor. She reached out with the blade of her stick and pulled the puck in close, spinning around and taking off across center ice. Dani pulled up beside her and tapped her stick against the gouged surface. Taylor glanced around, making sure Dani was still open, then shot the puck toward her and skated into position. A defenseman from Richmond moved behind her, crowding her, blocking any chance she might have of shooting if she got the puck back.

Taylor muttered under her breath and shifted left. Right. Left again, trying to shake the other woman. Damn. She was stuck to her like glue. Taylor spun around, her gaze landing on Rachel. She tapped her stick and called out, trying to get the other woman's attention. But Rachel wasn't paying any attention, at least not to Taylor. She wasn't even in position, not even close.

Anger and impatience rushed through her. Dammit. What the hell was Rachel's problem? She'd been out of position all afternoon, screwing up damn near every single play. As much as Taylor didn't care for her, this wasn't like the other woman. Or was it? Was Woodhouse still so angry that she'd deliberately screw up every scoring chance they got this afternoon?

The tension had come to a head in the locker room, minutes before Mr. Murphy had barged in. Rachel had been pissed when she learned she was playing third line. And of course her anger had been directed at Taylor, because somehow it was all Taylor's fault. They'd gotten up into each other's faces, had damn near come to blows before Coach Reynolds separated them—

And quietly told Taylor to handle it. She had tried—but it hadn't worked. Rachel had stormed off, shooting dirty looks her way as she huddled with Jordyn and Amanda, no doubt plotting some twisted revenge. Or maybe just wishing death and dismemberment on her.

To make matters worse, the team's play had gone to shit during the first period and Coach had changed the lines around, finally moving Rachel up with Taylor for a few plays.

And now it looked like Rachel was deliberately screwing up. But why? It made no sense.

Taylor ground her teeth together, feeling the mouthpiece give a little under the pressure. Screw it. She couldn't worry about Rachel right now, not when it meant risking a scoring chance. She tapped her stick on the ice, trying to get Dani's attention, then spun around and used her stick to push against the defenseman who kept getting in her way.

She managed to free herself and moved forward two feet when the whistle split the air. Taylor slid to a stop, glancing at the ref in surprise when he pointed at her and clenched both fists, moving them out straight out from his chest.

"Number 67. Two minutes. Cross-checking."

"What? No way." Taylor started to move closer but Sammie skated toward her, stopping her.

"Taylor, don't. You know better."

Taylor hesitated, her eyes narrowing at the official. She bit back the words of argument that wanted to fall from her mouth and headed toward the penalty box. Rachel moved closer, a sneer marring her smooth features.

"Way to go, LeBlanc. Way to screw us over."

"Fuck you. Maybe if you'd get your head in the game—"

Sammie grabbed her elbow and pulled her away, warning flashing in her brown eyes. Taylor nodded once then skated away, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. It wasn't just the penalty—that she could at least understand. Maybe she didn't agree with it. Maybe it was borderline. Maybe it was just a bad call. She could live with that. Mostly.

But to come close to getting into it with her own teammate, right there on the ice? That was inexcusable—even if it was Rachel Woodhouse. She knew better.

She stormed into the penalty box and dropped to the bench, her hands tightening around the stick as she watched the Blades move to the penalty kill. They were down by one point. If Richmond scored on the power play, it would be Taylor's fault.

Her eyes followed the puck down the ice and she held her breath, watching as Richmond shot once, twice. Once more. Shannon caught the puck on the last shot and pulled it into her chest as the whistle split the air, calling the play dead.

Taylor breathed a sigh a of relief then looked around at the scattering of applause coming from the crowd. Except maybe crowd was being too generous. There were a thousand seats in the arena, and less than half were filled.

Hardly a crowd.

Chuckie had told her they'd sold 576 tickets. More than half, even though it didn't look like it. Not bad for their very first game, especially since it was a Saturday afternoon and the Banners had their own opening game in a few hours. At least, that's what everyone kept saying. But Taylor couldn't quite hide the disappointment that filled her every time she looked around, and she knew her teammates felt the same way.

It would be worse if they lost.

They couldn't lose. They just couldn't.

Taylor adjusted the helmet on her face then got to her feet, her eyes moving from the play on the ice to the clock as it counted down the seconds.

Fifteen seconds. Richmond was cycling the puck, looking for an opening.

Ten seconds. They took a shot, only to have Shannon deflect it off to the side.

Five seconds. Another shot, this one wide. Sammie raced for the puck, cradled it against her stick, and looked over at Taylor.

Two seconds. One…

Taylor raced out of the penalty box as Sammie shot the puck toward her. She held her breath, praying it wouldn't bounce, praying it wouldn't skip—

The puck tapped the blade of her stick like a long-lost lover coming home. Taylor twirled and took off toward the net, hearing the shouts and swearing coming from the players behind her.

But they were too far behind her, with no chance of catching her. Richmond's goalie anticipated her move and dropped into position, her left leg dragging to the side as she slid to the right. Taylor stopped, spun around, then darted to the left and flipped the puck into the air. She held her breath, watching as the goalie stretched her arm out to the side, trying to catch it. The puck tipped off her glove and hit the back of the net.

The red light flashed as the horn sounded, signaling the Blades' first official goal. Taylor dropped to one knee and slid across the ice, pumping her fist in celebration as her teammates rushed toward her.

Taylor tapped the top of Sammie's helmet as they headed toward the bench. Coach Reynolds silently watched as Taylor climbed over the boards. She didn't say a word—she didn't have to. Yes, Taylor had scored, but it had been nothing more than perfect timing. It could have easily gone the other way, with Richmond capitalizing on the power play and putting the Blades down by two.

Because Taylor had screwed up and drawn the penalty.

She nodded at the coach, letting the woman know she understood. Then she dropped to the bench and reached for one of the water bottles, her gaze scanning the scattered faces of the crowd.

She found who she was looking for a few rows behind the penalty box, where she knew they'd be. Her family: Mom and Dad, Mia and Cassie. Aunt Emily and Uncle JP and Tristan and the twins. Her mom and Aunt Emily were smiling and her sisters were both giving her the thumbs-up sign. But she saw the carefully blank expression on her father's face—and Uncle JP's as well. Yes, they were happy she scored. But there was no doubt she'd get a lecture from both of them later tonight or tomorrow at dinner.

Oh well. No more than she deserved.

She looked down the ice, her gaze searching for another familiar face. Chuckie was standing with Mr. Murphy and a group of people, a few of them with cameras. The press, such as it was. At least they looked happy. At least, she thought they did.

She took another swig of water then handed the bottle to Sammie before turning her attention back to the ice.

Yes, the Blades were finally on the board. But it was only the second period and they were tied with Richmond. A lot could happen in the next twenty-nine minutes.

They just needed to make sure it happened in their favor.