Waverly Earp was nothing if not observant, thank you very much.
She prided herself on those skills. At first it had started out as a way to deal with all the crazy shit in her life—Mama leaving, Ward and Willa dying, Wynonna's reckless years before up and leaving town. It had been easier to sit by and watch, to read people. She'd spent too much of her early life losing people she cared about to let just anyone in, or to let her guard down to anything that could've been a threat. It came in handy still today, even though she'd worked through most of her earlier issues (mostly).
It didn't come without flaws though. For one thing, now that she'd gotten out of it, Waverly wondered what exactly about her relationship with Champ had appealed to her back in high school. Or the fact that her observation skills apparently didn't apply to herself, not even being open to the possibility of female attraction until one Nicole Haught skated into her life. (Or rather she stumbled her way into Nicole's).
Waverly Earp was nothing if not observant, which is why she knew something was up with Nicole.
She'd noticed it since the Devils got in from the last game in Brandon. The girl had seemed on edge in a way that she hadn't been previously. Waverly might've attributed it to the stress of the biggest game of her life so far coming up, but she couldn't help but feel that it was more. At first she'd thought that maybe Shae or Bunny had caused more drama, but the news had been focused on the game more so than whatever nonsense the blabbering owner decided to spew and Nicole had adamantly denied any added trouble from her captain.
Nicole had actually come to work at the rink yesterday, something she hadn't done since the playoffs started, the game schedule affording her little time to do anything other than sleep and recover from the previous day's game. Waverly found it odd, but really couldn't find anything to complain about. Who was she to question any time she'd get to spend in the red head's presence?
She'd kept her eye on the girl, noticing the details that made her suspicious. She knew something was bothering Nicole, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Nicole seemed tense, jumpy, almost like she'd been looking over her shoulder waiting for someone to jump her. Waverly had returned to the storage room to grab another box of merchandise to stock the store ahead of Game 7, and appeared to catch her girlfriend off guard, if the way she'd jumped a full foot in the air was any indication. She'd watch fear turn to relief as Nicole realized it was just Waverly, releasing a breathy "Jesus Waves, you scared me" as she tried to laugh it off.
The one thing Waverly didn't do was question Nicole on it. Not now. Not when she knew her girlfriend was mentally preparing for a pivotal matchup. Not when she knew Nicole wouldn't have told her anyway, the damn girl being so damn stubborn. Pressing would've only put her in a worse mood.
So Waverly did what she knew best—she sat back and observed. She'd step in if she knew it would help.
The one thing that Waverly did do was press the redhead on the injury she very much had. She'd noticed it when it happened, sitting on a stool at Shorty's with Wynonna and Chrissy, seeing Nicole fling her body in front of the slap shot. Chrissy had cringed next to her as Nicole got up gingerly, Wynonna yelling "Way to wear it, Haught!" at the television. She hadn't been able to talk to Nicole before the Devils got back into town, but knew from the way she'd winced when she moved or breathed too deeply that Nicole did not come out of that interaction unscathed. But again, stubborn as she was, Nicole was not going to jeopardize any amount of playing time in a winner-take-all situation. So, no matter how many times Waverly pressed her girlfriend to go see Doc, or at least rest with an ice pack, Nicole insisted she was fine and kept working around the rink.
Game 7: Monday, April 22—Brandon Purgatory
"…they truly are the two greatest words in sports, Joan: GAME. SEVEN. And we've got three of them on deck as the ever competitive CEWHL playoffs reach the end of its first round. Tomorrow's slate holds Moncton and Sherbrooke on the East Coast, with Calgary and Edmonton taking the primetime slot; but I'm sure the only thing on anyone's mind is tonight's game in Purgatory. Will the Devils get themselves a win in a close series after being chosen as heavy favorites? Or will the Bobcats pull off yet another upset, something that has become their brand?
In this back and forth series, there has been little ground to be gained, and no team has won back to back games so far. Does this bode well for Brandon, who lost in Game 6? Or will the Blue Devils finally find some of the consistency they showed throughout their historic regular season performance?
Let's take a look now at the players to watch in tonight's matchup. For Purgatory, Shae Pressman has provided some spark, but if the Devils are going to pull this series out, they're going to need a standout performance from their captain. And we can't talk about Pressman or the Blue Devils without mentioning Nicole Haught…"
Waverly had been watching some of the pregame coverage in the arena office when she'd been interrupted by a knock on the door.
Turning around she saw someone she hadn't actually spoken to in months, leaning against the door frame. She rolled her eyes.
"Hi Champ."
"You still hanging around with that chick?" He asked, nodding toward Nicole's photo displayed on the screen.
"Nicole? Yeah, I'd say so."
"Mhm, how's that going?" He asked, more interrogating than out of genuine interest.
"Better than you could ever imagine."
Champ took a step into the room, making his way closer to Waverly.
"Okay, come on, it's been long enough don't you think?"
"Long enough for what exactly?" Waverly stood up from where she sat at the desk, crossing her arms, hoping her body language would tell Champ to back away. She really wasn't in any mood to deal with him.
Unfortunately for Waverly, Champ only continued to step closer.
"Baby come on. It's been months, I've learned my lesson. You don't need to play around with that girl to make me jealous." The boy-man said, too much swagger in his voice. (It made Waverly want to vomit). "I've stopped talking to all those other girls, it's all you. I'm all yours."
She had half a mind to slap him right then and there.
"First of all, I didn't dump you because you were cheating on me—which I didn't even know about by the way, but thanks for letting me know." She snapped at him. She'd lied. Waverly had seen all the signs while they were together, but chose to ignore them, not wanting to ruin a good thing in a town with limited dating options. She just enjoyed the way Champ paled, realizing he'd exposed himself.
"Well, then—"
"—Second of all," She interrupted him, poking her pointer finger into his shoulder to keep him at a distance, "I'm not playing around with Nicole, and it's definitely not to make you jealous. She's my girlfriend and I love her, and she loves me."
"You—you're just confused. Come on, remember how we used to be? I think I'd know if you were gay."
"I don't have time to get into how ignorant you are, so why don't you just go away?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
Champ looked like a thought was forming in his mind, which was almost always dangerous—or stupid (usually both).
"Look, I'll do whatever you want," he was pleading now, "if you like sleeping with girls we can make that work." She cocked an eyebrow at him, half in disgust, half in what the fuck are you saying? "Do you think that Nicole would be into—"
"—Okay, stop. I'm not going to let you finish that sentence."
"Why not? I'm trying to make this work, make us work." Champ continued, oblivious as ever. "I guess that redhead's kinda hot or whatever, so I'd be into it if she wanted to j—"
"—You're disgusting. And an idiot."
"What? Did I say something wrong?'
"Bye Champ," she waved to him, not turning around or breaking stride.
She kept walking, infuriated, but not totally surprised, by Champ's conversation. Maybe part of her even expected something like it sooner. In a situation like that, she found it best to just shut it down before it could escalate. The only problem lied in the fact that his ignorance got under her skin more than she wanted it to.
Being with Nicole for just about six months had taught her a lot about herself, but above all it had taught her not to settle when she wasn't being treated the way she deserved. Nicole coming into her life had been the last tug on the wool that had been covering her eyes, and now she could see. Champ Hardy was a sexist, misogynist, and apparently (though unsurprisingly) a raging homophobe. She guessed she had to agree with Nicole that she had been "dating too many shitheads" before she met the redhead.
Still miffed, Waverly wasn't watching where she was going, crashing directly into someone's body,
"Woah babygirl, where's the fire?" Wynonna asked once they'd both regained their bearings. Her sister immediately sensed her annoyed disposition. "What happened? Trouble in paradise?"
"No. Not it's not Nicole."
"Okay, but she does seem off, right? Kinda tense. I mean, more so than usual."
"Yeah, I'm hoping it's just nerves for tonight's game. I know how important it is to her."
"Mhm," Wynonna nodded, "so what is it then? Why're you walking around crashing into people?"
"Champ's a moron."
"Waves, that's not news." Her sister chuckled, "What did that man-child do now?"
"He's just so stupid. We haven't talked in months and he comes into the office trying to get back together and when I told him I was in a happy, loving relationship he told me that I was confused he definitely would've known if I was actually gay. But then he changed his tone and suggested that we ask Nicole to join us."
"Bleh," Wynonna scrunched up her face, mock vomiting. "Want me to kick his ass? I'll do it. I've been waiting to do it."
"No, it's fine. No need to engage his idiocy."
"Fine," Wynonna frowned in disappointment. "As long as you're good."
"I am. I get to watch my super awesome, pro athlete girlfriend kick ass every night." She smiled brightly at the thought of tonight's game.
"Hey, speaking of," Wynonna interjected, producing a hat from her jacket. "Take this, I think you might need it tonight." She took the baseball cap in question from her sister and examined it quickly. The navy-blue cap was slightly deformed and the text on the front read PURGANTARY BULE DEVILS. "We can't sell it in the store, and since I bet Deputy Haught-to-Trot she couldn't get herself another hat trick, I figured you could toss this bad boy on the ice for her."
"Wow, who knew you were capable of thinking of others?" She teased.
"Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it."
Waverly adjusted the cap on her head as she walked down the hallway toward Nedley's office to grab the lineup card for the game. She'd found herself down in the player tunnel much earlier than she was earlier this series, so there were no pregame rituals to interrupt. However, as she approached the coach's door, she heard disgruntled conversation. Inheriting the same sense of curiosity as her sister, Waverly brought her ear to the closed door of Nedley's office to listen in.
"That's my decision, and it's final." The Sheriff grumbled.
"But—" Waverly couldn't quite place the owner of the voice, who sounded like a teenager arguing with her parents.
"—No buts. You two are professionals, and grown adults, and I expect you both to act like it and figure it out. I don't know what's gotten into you two, and frankly I don't care. I'm putting you back together because it's what's best for this team, so I need the two of you to get it together and find a way to work together on this line." Nedley said, voice just below an exasperated shout. "Do I make myself clear?"
Waverly wasn't exactly certain who was in there, but had a fairly good hunch.
The two Nedley had addressed mumbled a simultaneous "Yes, Sheriff."
"Good, now go get yourselves ready for the game. Dismissed."
The sound of footsteps approaching the door forced Waverly to take a few steps back into the corridor, so not as to be caught in her eavesdropping. She tried her best to look like she'd just naturally been in the hallway, watching Shae huff as she walked out of the office, Nicole trailing behind her.
Inexplicably, though thankfully, Nicole looked less tense than she'd been over the last couple of days. Her eyes lit up slightly as she noticed Waverly standing there.
"Hey! What're you doing down here?" She beamed.
"Just going to grab the lineups from Nedley." Waverly nodded toward the office and Nicole nodded in understanding.
"Did you get to hear any of that in there?"
"Just the end. I take it you're getting bumped back up with Shae and Jenna?"
"Yep, and someone's not too keen on that decision."
"She really dragged you into a meeting with Nedley to complain?"
"No, no. Sheriff called us in to tell us to put whatever our issues are aside." Nicole explained. "Honestly, I'm just over it. Just gonna go get ready, focus on pregame prep."
"I heard you've got some big expectations to meet."
"Wynonna told you about the bet." She stated more than asked. "Nothing like a little extra pressure, right?"
"Obviously, because game sevens are so boring." A sarcastic smirk graced her lips.
"Mhm, so maybe I need a good luck kiss." Nicole said with wide, pleading eyes that Waverly could never ignore. "Ya know, since it's such an important game."
Waverly initiated the kiss, running her hands up Nicole's sides stopping when the redhead hissed and her whole body tensed. She'd momentarily forgotten about Nicole's injury.
"Sorry," she said tenderly, moving her hands lower, away from the area.
"No, it's okay, I'm fine."
She gave her girlfriend a disapproving look.
"You know what I think about that."
"Yes, I do, but you know what I think about going to the training room." Nicole countered.
"I still think you should go see Doc or Rosita about it. Maybe they can do something for you."
"They're just bruised ribs, nothing you can really do for 'em, except suck it up and play through it." Nicole shrugged, though Waverly wasn't quite sure she believed her. "It's the playoffs."
"God, you are such a hockey player." She jested.
"Yeah, but you love that about me."
"Mhm, but I don't love seeing you in pain."
"And I love that about you." Nicole bent down to place a kiss to the top of her head. "But I promise, I'm fine, and I'll always be fine."
Waverly was skeptical, knowing that that wasn't something Nicole could necessarily promise in such a violent sport, but she let it go, seeing the happiness on Nicole's face replace the tension that had been there.
The pair heard Nedley stand up from his desk and Nicole took this as a sign to go down to the locker room to start her pregame rituals.
"I'd better get going." She placed another quick peck on Waverly's lips. "I love you."
"I love you, too," She reciprocated, watching Nicole turn down the hallway.
Waverly stood, staring just a second longer before she turned to fulfill the task she'd originally come down here for, just nearly missing crashing into Nedley as she did so.
"Oh, Waverly, didn't see you there."
"No, I wasn't watching where I was going." She said with an apologetic tone.
"No worries. Anything I can do for you?"
"Just down here to grab the lineup card."
The coach nodded and waved for her to follow him into his office.
"You're right on time, I was just finishing it up."
He pulled the card from the stack of papers on his desk, handing it to Waverly.
"Thank you very much," she said, accepting it. "How're you guys feeling about tonight?"
The Sheriff ran a hand over his mustache and blew the air out of his nostrils.
"You know, I think they're finally getting it to click, but it's just been so inconsistent." He said after a beat. "I understand the playoffs are a different animal and none of them have been here before, but sometimes I don't know, it's almost like they've never played before. It's like I'm coaching Chrissy's Mini Mites squad all over again—no offense."
Waverly couldn't suppress the giggle at Nedley's comment, remembering the team she'd been on with the coach's daughter when they were five. Neither of them had been particularly interested in learning how to skate with a puck on their stick or any of the rules of the game. Waverly was more fascinated with spinning in circles like a ballerina and helping her friend up each time she fell (a stage Chrissy never quite grew out of). She'd stopped playing around the time Willa and Ward died, though she'd been far too small and nowhere near aggressive enough to keep an interest in playing anyway. She loved the game, but playing was never truly in the cards.
"None taken. Like at all. Though I'm not sure your team would appreciate that comparison."
"When they get their shit together they can be offended."
"Fair enough."
"Speaking of getting their shit together," Nedley paused, and Waverly had a feeling she knew what he'd be bringing up, "I don't know what's gotten into that girlfriend of yours, but she's been off her game. And she's fighting with my captain, that's not like her."
She didn't even know Nedley had known about hers and Nicole's relationship. She knew he knew that Nicole was gay and in a relationship, but hardly anybody outside of their little group knew the details.
"I-I, how did you…?"
"I do talk to my daughter, you know." Waverly nodded. She should've figured it would've eventually got out, especially through Chrissy. That girl had never really been able to keep a secret. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you got rid of that moron Hardy boy."
"Thank you Sheriff," she said grateful for his acceptance. He'd been a fatherly figure to her for much of her life. "But about Nicole, she's seemed off I know, but she won't tell me why."
"I swear that girl's as stubborn as a mule. Not a great combination to put two of my hardest headed players together when they're bickering, I know, but there's no questioning that this team plays better when they're on the ice at the same time." He said, referencing Shae. "Just before you came down here I had to set 'em right and tell 'em to stop acting like children long enough to win this damn game tonight."
"I think they will, I know that both of them are super competitive and want to win."
"They'd better. I'd hate to bear the wrath of Bunny of we can't pull it out tonight." At that moment, the phone on Nedley's desk rang, and he excused himself to answer it. He muttered a few gruff replies to whoever was on the other line and then put the phone back on its hook. "Speak of the devil, Bunny and Dolls are upstairs; media wants some soundbites. Ridiculous if you ask me, but hey, duty calls."
"I'll let you go then Sheriff," Waverly tipped her baseball cap to him, "It was good talking to you. Good luck out there."
She let herself into the scorekeeper's box in between the benches just as Robin was switching over from his music to the team's warmup tracks. Her partner, Randy, hadn't been there yet, which Waverly was grateful for, needing the space in the box to set up properly for the game.
The arena was just about empty, save for a few fans who had got in early, but Waverly could feel it was the calm before the storm. She'd seen the books in the office, knowing that tonight was yet another sellout, and that this place would be rocking sooner rather than later. The locals around town had been buzzing about game seven since the Devils pulled out a win in game six, and people had started arriving from Brandon almost immediately after the last matchup. The eyes of the entire league were on tonight's game, and everyone was expecting a good show.
She heard chanting approaching the Devils' bench from the tunnel, knowing that the team was going through its customary routine before heading out onto the ice for warmups. They didn't dare enter until the other team skated out, waiting for Robin to flip on the song that told them it was okay to go out. Once they got the all clear, Miller led the team out, followed by Shae who knocked down the pyramid of pucks from off the boards and the rest of the team followed behind her.
There was another commotion from down in the tunnel about five minutes into warmups, which Waverly found odd—until she peaked down the tunnel and she realized who was responsible for it.
It was like a scene in a sitcom, watching it unfold.
Bunny Loblaw with her giant purse was struggling down the corridor, an exasperated Xavier Dolls in front of her, trying to block her path.
"Bunny please, let's just go watch warmups from the box," He pleaded, looking comically less composed than Waverly had ever seen the man. "It's much more comfortable, don't you think?"
"I'm the damn owner and I'll watch my team from wherever I so choose."
"I understand that, but I think that—"
Dolls hadn't been able to finish his sentence, Bunny smacking him right across the face with her Gucci knockoff handbag. She took advantage of the situation—Dolls taking his hand to his face to check for blood—and practically sprinted around him to reach the bench.
The woman stood up on the bench, looking much like the NHL coaches in the '70s right before they got ejected from games the way she started barking nonsense orders to the team. The confused looks from both teams were priceless, Bunny looking like an absolute buffoon from where she stood.
Dolls had made his way to the bench, but let Bunny continue, probably learning his lesson in trying to hold the owner back from anything she wanted.
And then, as if the hockey gods were smiling down upon the team, an errant puck found its way flying directly toward Bunny's face. The whole squad watched from the ice as the object collided with the woman's jaw, knocking the dentures right out of her mouth. Waverly swore she heard Finning mutter, "well that oughtta shut her up" to Hansen from right in front of Waverly's seat.
As if shutting Bunny up were ever possible. She jumped down from the bench, screaming bloody murder, Dolls stepping in to guide her away from the bench.
"You," she spat at Dolls, though it was muffled and distorted, "you should've never let me come out here."
Dolls didn't even respond to the admonishment, instead leading her down the tunnel, suppressing the closest thing to a laugh Waverly had ever seen come from the man. Waverly herself couldn't help but titter at the interaction, having the feeling that Bunny had it coming. It was almost impressive that she could still be so ornery and annoying even as she was forced to pick up her dentures in front of everyone.
The players on the ice played concerned for as long as it took for Dolls to get her down the tunnel, but the second she had disappeared, there was a collective sense of good humor, a lot of them openly cracking jokes at the expense of the owner who had been nothing short of verbally abusive all season.
Randy entered the box, unnecessarily large soda and stupid radio in tow, from the Bobcats' side of the tunnel. She hadn't regretted her decision to not follow the team to be the scorekeeper for their games in Brandon, needing the reprieve from his general stupidity and douchieness.
"What'd I miss?" He asked, plopping down unceremoniously on the seat near her.
"Nothing," she said her laughter as it slowly died down.
"Oh, okay," he replied, her answer seeming to satisfy his question. He narrowed his eyes at her hat, trying to read it. "Hey, I think you should get a refund on that hat, I think they misspelled some words."
"Yeah, I'll definitely look into that." She appeased him.
"Hey, it's game seven." Randy told her, even though he knew she knew that. "That means that no matter what happens, this'll be the last time we work together."
"That it is." (She'd wanted to say "Thank God", but was far too nice for that. She'd already gone off on him earlier this series and didn't need to expend any more negative energy on him).
"But that doesn't have to mean this has to be the last time we see each other." He bit his lip all douchey. "What do you say I take you out to dinner after the game, and then we see where this," he pointed between the two of them, "takes us."
"Well, Randy," she did her best to stifle the cackle that was building within her, "I'm flattered. Truly. But, I have a girlfriend."
"Hmm, okay," he pondered for a moment, "well that's not ideal, but I guess I could be into that if you two were down."
(God, what was it with the men around her today?)
"No, I think we'll pass."
"That's your loss then." He muttered, but was significantly less standoffish in the face of rejection than Champ had been.
"I'm sure it is."
Both of them got busy with their pregame preparations while the two teams continued theirs. Waverly had gone back to look at stats in her notebook from earlier in the series, taking time to copy over the ones from game six as the last of the players skated off the ice for Champ to resurface the sheet.
As she was finishing up, Wynonna called her phone. She'd barely gotten in a greeting before Wynonna was cutting her off excitedly.
"Dude! Guess what?"
"What?"
"Bunny got hit in the face with a puck."
"I know. I saw the whole thing."
"You lucky bitch."
"She wanted to watch warmups from the bench and then got pissed at Dolls for letting her."
"You know all that, but do you know what Doc just told me?"
"What?"
"Bunny demanded that they take her to the hospital—"
"—Let me guess, she said something racist about immigrant doctors." She interrupted, Randy snapping his head over in interest in the conversation.
"Yes, obviously, but that's not even the crazy part."
"God, Wynonna just tell me."
"They X-rayed her jaw at the hospital, and it's broken. They have to wire it shut."
"That's the best news anybody could ever get."
"I don't think I've ever been this happy about anything."
"Me neither," she said as the music in the arena started to pick up. Waverly saw Perry enter the PA box next to Robin, signifying that the teams were coming out at any second now. "Hey, I gotta go, the game's about to start."
"Later loser."
"Love you too Wynonna."
She hung up just as Perry was announcing the starting lineup for the Bobcats. Unsurprisingly, Cleo Clanton and Jolene DiMoni were among the starters sent out by the Swamp Witch to open up the game. The lights dimmed as Perry switched over to the home starters, the crowd noise starting to pick up. As per usual, she cheered especially loudly for Nicole.
The starters had lined up on the blue lines for the national anthem, giving Waverly the ability to try to get a read on her girlfriend's body language. Standing in between Shae and Jenna, she looked focused on the task at hand, albeit an appropriate amount of tense with nerves considering the magnitude of this game. At least on the outside she and Shae looked like they weren't going to rip each other's throats out, which she supposed was a good thing.
Chrissy walked onto the red carpet that Robin and Champ rolled out as Perry called for the crowd to stand and remove their caps. Filled with pride in her hometown, Waverly swears she'd never heard O Canada sung so loudly.
Now that all the pregame ceremonies had finished, it was time to bring about the beginning of the end of this series. Nicole faced off against Jolene as the referee dropped the puck for game seven to commence.
She was glad she got to start her scorekeeping night by marking a win in Nicole's faceoff column. If anyone expected the long series to diminish the physicality between the two teams, that's not what they got. The game started off just as heavy hitting as it had in game one, and Randy's stupid radio show made sure to commend each and every check that the Bobcats finished with an exaggerated "Ooh, that's gotta hurt" or "Absolutely CRUNCHES another Devil into the boards".
The first ten minutes recorded more total hits than total shots on goal, which was great on entertainment value, but not on actual gameplay. Nedley seemed annoyed that they were taking the body instead of making a good play on the puck, and vocalized it to his players as each line returned to the bench from their shifts.
Twelve minutes into the period, Shae won a puck battle along the boards, coming away with it and looking to counterattack. In the crosshairs of a Bobcat defender, Shae took a hit to make a play, dumping the puck off to Jenna who flew up the right-wing boards, Nicole jumping into the play to create a 2-on-1. It was a more than simple finish for Nicole once Jenna had sold the goalie on the shot and slid the puck across for Nicole to tap it into the wide open cage, giving the Devils the lead.
Anyone who hadn't known wouldn't have seen the wince Nicole tried to conceal as she threw her hands up in celebration, but Waverly had known and she had seen it. She still wasn't all that accepting of her playing through an obvious injury, but knew hockey culture was notorious for bucking up and playing through just about anything.
"Bluuuuuue Devils GOAL! Scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number fourteen Jenna Boardman and number eight Shae Pressman!" Perry announced over the speakers, the crowd roaring a few decibels higher than it had already been. The crowd had been so loud that she could barely make out Wingnut and Country Joe's commentary and grumblings about the Bobcats being down 1-0. Nedley over on the bench looked pleased with the cohesiveness of his top line thus far; Margo Jean looked not displeased, but rather just cold and calculating, her arms crossed over her chest.
(She checked her phone when she saw that Wynonna had texted her.
Wynonna: One down, two to go).
The game resumed, the physicality remaining, but being placed on a back burner second to offense now that a goal had been scored—the Devils looked to defend the lead and add onto it, the Bobcats focused on erasing it.
The visitors had come close to tying it on a couple occasions, but hadn't quite been able to put the puck past Miller up until they capitalized on an opportunity with 3:03 remaining. The top line had been running around the defensive zone, doing well to fill all the shooting lanes and limit any opportunity for their opponents to score. On a rare lapse in coverage, a big Brandon defender stood at the blue line with a good look on goal. The shot deflected off of a skate extended into its path at the last second and landed on the stick of one of their forwards along the wall, and Nicole slid her body into the shooting lane, wearing the shot on her right side yet again. It had stunned Nicole for a second, and Cleo Clanton was the first to react, picking up the loose puck. Since Nicole, who had been essentially taken out of the play, was responsible for Clanton, she was essentially wide open and netted the puck rather easily from point blank range.
"…and just like that this one is tied Joe, but we all knew it was only a matter of time."
Waverly looked to the bench, making eye contact with Nicole, who mouthed to her "I'm fine" (while looking very much not fine), knowing that Waverly had just seen her get hit again.
The two teams went into the intermission tied at a goal apiece.
On the flip side of the break, the game remained the same as it had been to start the first period. Since the game had once again been tied, it seemed like a switch had flipped between the two teams, both of them returning to playing the body more often than the puck.
When Nicole took the ice for her second shift, the timing had been perfect for Angelique to hit her with a lob pass from deep in the defensive zone that landed on the center's stick just before the attacking blue line, sending her in on another breakaway. Waverly knew that these had been something that Nicole didn't always do well with, either beating the goalie or completely missing the net. This time, she would not be denied, snapping the puck right past the goalie's ear, ringing the crossbar and falling down straight into the net.
"Bluuuuue Devils GOAL! Scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number three, Angelique Meunier and number thirty, Lauren Miller!"
She received another text from her sister.
Wynonna: That's two
She found it odd that Wynonna was openly rooting for Nicole to win their bet, but appreciated the enthusiasm anyway.
"…I hate to say it Joe, but Haught going bardownski was one of the prettier shots I've seen this year…"
"Damn that bitch Haught's been a real pain in the ass all series, right?" Randy complained from beside her.
"You have to know I don't agree with you on that one."
"Yeah I guess you're right."
The Bobcats' coach looked less than pleased now, muttering under her breath, scowling at the game in front of her. Nicole's line stayed out on the ice, seeing as she'd scored less than fifteen seconds into the shift. On the faceoff following the goal, Jolene muscled Nicole off of the puck and allowed her left winger to swoop in to take it. Instead of peeling off to set up offense like the rest of her team, the Bobcats' center followed Nicole around, stalking her much like the way she had before their fight in the first game. Waverly hoped that this wouldn't escalate into a repeat performance; with the still healing gash on her chin and the repeated blows to her ribs, Nicole was in no condition to throw her fists around.
As the defense worked in the zone, they eventually got the puck out into the neutral zone, and Nicole trailed behind the play after flipping it out from behind the goal line. Out of view of the refs, with all attention turned toward the Devils entering the attacking zone, Jolene skated across Nicole's path, discretely throwing a sharp elbow into the side of her head, knocking her to the ice momentarily.
Waverly expected a reaction from the crowd, or some booing of the refs for not calling a penalty, but it seemed as if she'd been the only one to see it, if the questioning looks she got as a result of her standing up and yelling at the refs were any indication. Nicole took more than a couple seconds to get to her feet and skate back toward the play, but made her way into the attacking zone as the visitor's goalie froze the puck.
She knew something was wrong from Nicole's body language as she skated to the bench for the lines to change. Even though no one from the training staff had come to check on her (because they hadn't seen the blow to her head), Waverly knew. There was a blankness and a wideness in Nicole's eyes that told Waverly that her girlfriend wasn't all there. She hoped it wasn't anything serious, maybe just a quick ringing of her bell.
A defender released a bomb of a slapshot that was tipped in front of goal and past Miller with eight and a half remaining in the second to tie the game, a score that would carry over into the break. From what she could see, Nicole appeared to be okay for the rest of the period after taking that elbow to the head, albeit a little bit slower than normal.
During the intermission, Randy asked to borrow her stat sheet. He'd said it was to compare the two to make sure they were right, but him spending the whole intermission copying her tallies into his sheet told her that he hadn't been stat-tracking at all, which she knew all along anyway. She wondered why they even bothered sending this guy, or even how he got the job, considering he was so bad at it.
With the start of the third drawing near, the arena crowd (and she assumed the entirety of both fanbases) were on tenterhooks, ready for an action-packed third period.
The teams delivered on that expectation, zipping around the ice, trading both chances and hits. This was the sort of game that did well to boost league ratings, giving the fans every bit of their money's worth in both intensity and entertainment value.
Finning rung the crossbar five minutes into the period, and Waverly thought the place might've exploded if the puck had gone in. However, it bounced back into play, eventually being sent down the ice for icing by the Bobcat defender.
The rules played to the home team's advantage here. Icing meant that the Bobcats couldn't make a change, leaving tired defenders on the ice for a faceoff in their defensive zone while the Devils had the opportunity to send whatever personnel they wanted to out there. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Nedley would send his top five out onto the ice.
With the faceoff in the left circle in the Devils' attacking zone, Hansen and Adams lined up just inside the blue line with Jenna, Nicole and Shae lining up from left to right, ready for the draw. Nicole had owned the dot practically all night, and with the visitor's best faceoff person on the bench, she had the clear advantage. Waverly was ready for the redhead to win the draw easily, so when Nicole reacted late and lost the draw, it came as a bit of a surprise.
Luckily for the Devils, the puck got caught in the skates of a defender, Jenna being able to dig it out. She got the puck to the top of the blue line where Hansen surveyed her options. She chose to carry the puck down toward the half wall, the rest of her teammates cycling to keep their shape. A passing lane opened up for Hansen to dish to Adams who faked a shot, seeing the shooting lane close. Her fake shot opened up Shae, who had filled in the slot occupied by Hansen. The shooting lane for the captain was much wider, and with Nicole setting a screen on goal, Shae unloaded the puck and sent a rocket toward the cage. The goalie looked poised to make the save right until the puck deflected off of Nicole's stick and over her shoulder, making the net bulge as the go-ahead goal was scored.
Hats flew onto the ice at the sound of the horn, and Waverly stood, removing the cap Wynonna had given her prior to the game, adding to the collection. She beamed with pride, clasping her hands together excitedly, while Randy groaned from beside her and the radio commentators whined about the icing call that had led them to this moment. The line skated to the bench for fist bumps, mobbing Nicole for a playoff hat trick that just felt like the goal that would push them across the finish line, even if there were still fourteen minutes remaining.
"Bluuuue Devils GOAL! A hat-trick goal, scored by number fifteen, Nicole Haught! Assisted by number eight, Shae Pressman and number fifty-five, Rylee Adams!"
(Wynonna: I guess I should bet Ginger Spice more often, huh?)
Once the noise had died down and the hats were swept off of the ice, the game started back up with Saunders' line taking over. Waverly snuck a peek over at the home bench, hopeful to catch Nicole's eye. When she did, she saw the girl smile an uncharacteristically dopey smile back at her, giving a big thumbs up. Waverly returned a smile, but felt concern mount in the pit of her stomach.
Nicole's eyes had looked even blanker than they had before the second period ended and she appeared a little more than slightly woozy. Waverly couldn't be certain Nicole even knew where she was at the moment. The hit to her had had done more than just ring her bell. Seeing this now made her think of the delayed reaction to the goal that Nicole had just scored. Waverly originally thought that everything happened so quickly that it took a second for her girlfriend to process that it hit her stick and went in, but with this new information, and not to mention the curious faceoff loss, she was beginning to think that there was a serious concussion issue that no one was picking up on at the moment.
She wanted someone to notice, to pull Nicole out of the game, but none of the training staff seemed concerned because none of them had seen the initial incident.
A faceoff at center ice after a puck deflected over the glass came with ten minutes remaining in the period, and Nedley had sent the first line out to take it. Nicole climbed slowly over the boards, looking more sluggish than before. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Swamp Witch pull the center out onto the ice aside. Turning her attention to the interaction, Waverly saw the coach whisper some sort of direction into DiMoni's ear, a sinister smirk growing on both faces.
The two centers squared up, and the ref stood between them, ready to drop the puck. It looked like Nicole didn't even react to the drop, Jolene swiping it away with ease for the Bobcats to start an entry into the attacking zone.
As the Bobcats passed the puck around the zone, the Devils did well to block the lanes forcing a deflection of the puck into the corner. Nicole, being the closest one, took off in a foot race for the puck, skating hard down toward the goal line with Jolene hot on her tail.
And then, like it happened in slow motion, Waverly watched her worst nightmares come true.
Losing the footrace, Jolene reached out for Nicole's shoulder with her free hand, pulling her weight back, knocking the redhead off balance, her feet starting to slip out from underneath her. Making matters worse, the opposing center finished the play, driving Nicole's whole body into the boards, her right leg and head colliding loudly and awkwardly with the immovable object as Jolene followed through on the hit.
Waverly was sure chaos ensued as whistles blew, but she couldn't focus on anything other than the sight of Nicole crumpling to the ice. Any air that had been in the building felt like it had been sucked out, and Waverly felt like there was cotton in her lungs, the ringing in her ears the only thing she could hear. Every second that Nicole laid there on the ice was another second that Waverly couldn't breathe.
She held onto hope that she'd be okay. Nicole had to be okay. She'd promised.
Get up, Nicole. You gotta get up. Please get up, for me.
But, she'd also bounced back up from hits rather quickly this season, and the longer that Nicole was motionless in the corner, the less likely it was that she was going to get up.
Nedley and the training staff sprinted onto the ice as the refs cleared the commotion away from the injured player near the corner boards. They did as much as they could, but Waverly watched through tear-blurred eyes as they motioned for the stretcher that was quickly brought onto the ice through the Zamboni doors.
Waverly had never felt more hopeless than in that moment (which in reality had been well over ten minutes), watching them take the stretcher that held the love of her life, loading it into the awaiting ambulance to rush her off to the hospital.
Eyes still trained on that corner, she saw a sizable blood smear on the ice that Champ had to scrape away with a shovel as the staff cleared out of area.
Why was she bleeding? How was she bleeding?
Doc had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital, but Rosita, Kate and Nedley returned to the bench, to close out the game (the last nine plus minutes had to be played out no matter how hard it would be to regain any semblance of game intensity after the unfortunate stoppage of play).
Nedley turned to her once he'd resumed his position behind the bench, giving her a sad look and shaking his head grimly.