After the opening ceremony, Tate found himself sitting on the bench for the first two periods. The All Star game rules allowed each team to have up to three goalies: a different goalie for each of the three periods of regulation play. Shea wanted Tate to play the third, and he wasn’t too happy with it. Sitting for two periods wasn’t good for his legs, so during the second period, he had the trainers shoot pucks at him in the hall. It helped but not much since he wasn’t on the ice. It was finally his turn, and as he skated out, his felt like his heart was in his throat. The score was 14 to 10, blue team was in the lead. They were stacked with offensive men, but they had played their great goalies first, so the red team had a chance.

Tate moved between the poles, dropping to the ground and hopping back up, repeating the motion as he sang his song. Ever since Audrey had been there one time singing with him, he always imagined her singing with him with her horrible voice. He loved her, but that girl was tone deaf, or something. He stretched his neck from side to side before hitting his pads with his stick and then the two posts. Dropping into position, he was ready for the puck to be dropped. Watching as Lucas went for the puck drop, he heard him talking shit, but it was all for fun. That was the great thing about the All Star game; it was like playing in the backyard with all your friends.

“I should throw my gloves down and kick your ass just for a show!” Lucas teased Markus Randerhaven as everyone shook their heads, chuckling.

Markus laughed before he said, “Drop your gloves, Brooks, and I’ll whoop your ass not for the show, but because I don’t like you.”

Tate shook his head, he knew Lucas and he knew his temper, but to his surprise Lucas just laughed it off and won the puck for the red side. Tate was ready, his glove hand up and his stick in place as he watched the offense go after the puck. No one was really being rough, no big hits or anything. They were only worried about getting the puck and shooting on goal. Finally Lucas got the puck and raced down the ice towards the opposite side. He faked out the goalie and drop-passed it back to Shea, who shot it right into the goal.

It was a beautiful play.

The crowd went wild as the guys all wrapped up in a hug to celebrate. It was a great way to start the period and it pumped Tate up. He dropped down again and back up, trying to keep his legs warm. When one of the offense men, he couldn’t tell who it was, started towards him, the puck in possession, Tate was ready, knocking the puck away. The guy got it again, and passed it to a defenseman who shot it hard towards the net. But Tate blocked that too.

Logan Couture stood in front of him, trying to screen him, but Tate wasn’t having that. Pushing Couture hard in the back, he sent him flying as he said, “Get the f**k out of here!” Tate heard some of the guys laugh as Couture turned saying some not so nice things, not that Tate cared. Someone took a quick wrist shot, but Tate got it with his glove hand before it went over his shoulder. Bringing it back down, he sent a toothy grin towards the shooter before handing it off to the referee.

This was going to be a great period.

The red All Star team lost, but only by one, and even though it sucked, Tate was all smiles, because no one could score on him. It was great feeling being the only goalie to shut someone out during his period. Reporters were all over him. He was on every sports news channel imaginable, they were calling him ‘a force to be reckoned with’ and a sure bet for the Vezina Trophy. It was crazy, and insane, but man, was he proud of himself. After the game, and all the interviews, he found himself; face down on his bed with his phone on speaker phone.

“Hello, Mr. All Star goalie,” Audrey said when she answered.

He chuckled, “I miss you.”

“Aw! I miss you more, when you coming home?”

“Not till Monday afternoon now, they are having the closing activities tomorrow, and then Sunday and Monday I have a bunch of interviews in New York with Lucas and Shea.”

“Well that blows,” she said disappointed.

He nodded, “I know, I want to come home.”

“Yeah, I wish you were home, I am still so sick, I could use my big strong boyfriend’s arms to hold me.”

“I’ll come home,” he said.

“Tate, you’re in Canada. You can’t just walk across our porch to bring me soup.”

“No, but I can be there in a couple hours, it’s a plane ride.”

“Okay, big shot goalie, just because you signed a big deal with the Assassins as their star goalie and was the only goalie to shut out everyone at the All Star game doesn’t mean you can go blowing all that money to come take care of me.”

Tate chuckled, “I would blow it all for you. Every bit.”

“Liar,” Audrey joked.

“No really, I would,” Tate said sternly as he sat up, “Do you want me to come home? I’ll leave tonight, I can miss tomorrow, and then I just fly out to New York on Sunday?”

“That is crazy, no, I’m fine. I was just whining. It’s been a long week,” she said sadly, he could tell she still wasn’t feeling well.

“Is it the nausea still?”

“Yeah,” she groaned, “I am so sick. It blows.”

“Go and get some of those meds they gave me,” he suggested, “They worked great.”

“Yeah, I know, if it ain’t better by Monday, I will okay?”

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise,” she giggled, “Now go to sleep, it’s late and you played one hell of a game.”