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this wasn’t new, but in the preseason? Only the most established, most popular teams got this many people this early. And it was hard to ignore the rise in decibel level as soon as he appeared. Of course, the announcer got them going, introducing him like he was the president of the United States or something. Maybe that played into it.
    He did a lap around the Sinners’ defending zone, waving, and the cheers got louder. Energy flooded him, but not the usual kind that made him itch to win the first face-off. This felt different. More anxiety than endorphins, and it didn’t make sense. He’d played in almost 300 NHL games and could count on one hand the number of times he hadn’t been completely focused and ready.
None
of those times had been because of nerves.
    Dylan leaned against the players’ bench with the other guys in the starting lineup and shuffled his feet, head down as the lights lowered and a lounge singer belted out the national anthem. When it was over, he skated to center ice and crouched down, stick ready. The opposing center’s coffee breath was so bad, the smell almost made him flinch, but he focused on the ice between them. The official dropped the puck, and a second’s hesitation lost him the draw. That didn’t happen often.
    He pressed his teeth down hard on the mouth guard and grunted, and then darted to follow the play. Collier, one of his wingers, snagged the puck and raced for the Stars’ goal, so he sprinted alongside. Colly circled behind the net then sent him a backhand pass. It missed the tip of his blade by centimeters. The Stars got the puck back and burst out for a breakaway. Before any of the Sinners could catch up, the puck flew over Reese’s shoulder and into their
net. The arena booed as the Stars celebrated.
    My fault
.
    The rest of the first period was one error after another. He felt like he was a step behind instead of always being a step ahead. When the buzzer sounded, the Sinners were down by two. He stared at his skates on the way to the locker room. Nealy’s stare was like a high-powered laser on his back. None of his teammates looked at him dead on, but there were plenty of sideways glances. That said enough. He took a seat on the bench in front of his locker and prepared for the tirade but couldn’t look at Nealy.
    She was quiet for the first ten minutes. Guys rehydrated, wiped sweaty faces, and re-taped sticks. When Nealy stood before them and finally spoke, her high voice was deceptively calm. “I know you ladies might be a little rusty after a long postseason since we didn’t make a deep Cup run this year. I would have thought my training camp would’ve had some effect, or at least the practices we’ve had. Guess not, huh? Let me remind you of something. There are twenty-three players on this team. Not one. You all seem to be under the impression Saint Cole will save you. How’s that working out for ya?”
    Whether she meant it as support or an accusation or both, Dylan’s ears burned. He scrubbed a towel over his face to avoid his teammates’ reactions and to keep them from seeing his humiliation.
I’m their captain. They deserve better from me.
    Nealy paced before them. “You think because you have the prince of the league on your team, you don’t have to show up? That’s the only reason I can see for the slanted scoreboard right now. You know our system. I’ve ingrained it in you so deeply, it’s gotta be etched in your damn bones. Now go out there and let me see it.”
    The team filed out, and he hung back to be the last, something he’d originally established as a show of respect when he’d been the rookie. Now it served a double purpose. Tonight it meant he didn’t have to look them in the eye after their coach had more or less called him a hockey messiah.
    The second period went worse than the first. It was like the guilt and embarrassment kept piling up, getting heavier and heavier on his back, leading to more and more errors. The Stars got