“You were on fire tonight,” Justin says, raising his pint glass to mine.
I grin and clink my glass to his before taking a long drink. “Thanks, man. I felt good out there.”
We’re in New York for a midweek game, and I’m not going to deny how good it feels to get a win tonight.
Teddy signals the waitress as he polishes off the last of his beer. “That last shot was like a bullet. I didn’t think you were going to stop it.”
Catching that shot was a surprise to me too. I felt the puck hit my glove, but still had to look down in disbelief to actually see that it was in my hand.
“Christoff has a wicked slap shot, that’s for sure,” I say, trying to downplay my heroic save, but it’s hard to hide my smile when the guys are singing my praises. And the truth is, I know I did damn good on the ice to
