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It’s the third period with fifty-two seconds left as we skate up to the center for the next face-off. We need to score now and hold them until the final buzzer.
Kos faces off with their center, and the puck is kicked out in the madness, right into Reed’s stick. Everyone falls into place as he passes the puck to Kos, and he again races toward our zone. As Kos passes it to Brett, it’s intercepted by one of the Mystics, and we immediately go on defense. Their player passes it to one of their wings right outside of our zone.
The crowd shouts, “Twenty seconds!”
Their wing pulls back and slaps the puck hard. But instead of the puck flying, the blade slides across the ice, snapping off of his stick.
Brett takes off for the puck as the Mystics’ wing flies to their bench to change out. I trail him and spot a Mystic charging Brett. I dig into the ice with everything I have. I need to get to this player before he gets to Brett.
Almost there. Almost there.
I plow into the Mystics’ player and knock him on the ice right as Brett grabs the puck and takes off to the goal.
He dribbles, pulls back, and fires. The puck slams into the net, and the shouting and cheering from the crowd is deafening. The buzzer fills the speakers, and the time runs out. We all race toward Brett and then to our goalie, Matt. We can never win a game without him, so we always celebrate with him the second it’s over.
“Woo!” we all scream and chant as we jump into each other.
This is the feeling I chase every time I hit the ice. This is the only feeling that is good in my life. Pure, absolute joy.
After the game, we all head into the locker room to shower and change. Walking out, I pull my phone out and ignore all of the social media notifications. Sometimes, I wish I had someone to call after the game to talk about it with.
My thumb seems to find her number with ease. The pink-haired Little Dove that has crossed my mind daily since we met. I could call and see what she’s up to, how she’s been. But I’m interrupted.
“Cam, wait up,” Kos hollers to me as I walk out of the arena with a smile on my face.
I lock my phone and slip it into the pocket of my Nighthawks hoodie. I turn on my heel and wait for him to catch up as the crowd parts around us. The Minnesota fans don’t seem to want an autograph from us tonight.
As he reaches me and we fall into step together, he says, “Hey, I know it’s super last minute, but I thought you might want to join Laura, Jack, and me. We’re driving up to Duluth to visit her mom and fly back afterward. Do you want to come with us? I thought you might enjoy the change of pace on our day off.”
I had plans, important ones. Get on the plane tonight, go home, and try to sleep. But I suppose I can make a change for ol’ Kos. “Well, now, I have to call and cancel the party I was going to throw tonight. But, yeah, I’m in.”
He scoffs, “Shut the fuck up. I know damn well you avoid the masses after games unless it’s going to End Zone with us. You definitely aren’t planning a party. If you were, Reed would have been advertising that anywhere and everywhere, and Charlotte would have told Laura. And I haven’t heard a word from anyone.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Well, I guess I have no excuse then.”
“You’re in? We’re leaving right now. Laura got the rental car before the game,” Kos says.
I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”
7
Nikki
Sliding the last pan of cinnamon rolls into the oven, I move my head, humming to the music that’s filling the shop from the built-in speakers.
This is the last of my prep before we open at seven a.m. My morning routine is my favorite part of the day.
It’s consistent, almost never changing, aside from special bakes when I’m feeling up to it. And I love waking up before the rest of the world. Nothing compares to that silence, to the moment where the earth seems to stand still, the sun barely lights up the sky, and the shadows that haunt my every waking day are still nestled in their beds.
My phone chimes, and I hover my face above the screen as it unlocks.
Chloe: I’m running a bit late. I’ll be there in about forty. I’m sorry!
Rolling my eyes, I start filling the display case with the fresh muffins, rolls, scones, and croissants for the day. Chloe is usually late—the number of minutes differing every day, but late nonetheless. But it’s hard to be mad for her tardiness when she is not technically on the schedule. It has just become habit that she works when I work. Although her work style consists of talking to the customers and hanging out. Which is fine by me. I always enjoy her company.
After I fill the case up, the cinnamon rolls are ready to come out of the oven. I quickly ice them and load them into the case alongside the others. As my hips sway to the music, memories of being with Cam at Fireflies dance in my head.
No one has ever made me feel so alive, so free, so turned on. He was barely touching me, but I could feel it in every nerve in my body. I could feel every cell stand on edge and anticipate his next move. I would have stayed dancing with him the entire night if it meant I could feel that way forever.
