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“Stats are one thing”—Easton tosses his empty cup into the trash can—“But if we don’t start winning the next road games, we can kiss the playoffs goodbye.”
“There’s no reason for those losses. We’re better than that,” Ryan says.
I tear my focus away from my girl and back to the panic-filled conversation taking hold. It’s up to me to step up and lead. To ease their worries. After all, I wear the captain’s letter on my chest for a reason.
“Hey!” I call out, my voice hitting high so my teammates can hear. My hand finds Ryan’s shoulder and gives a squeeze that’s part reassurance and part command. “Listen up.”
The circle around me tightens, and they snag onto me like a puck trapped in the net.
“Playoffs,” I say. “It’s not just a series of games. It’s our chance to leave everything on the ice. To show what we’re made of. Every drill, every drop of sweat got us here. And it’ll take us all the way.”
Nods ripple through the group like a wave gathering strength. I see it then—the spark reigniting behind their eyes. It’s the same fire that burnt in mine.
“Each pass we make, every goal we score, builds the foundation of not just a team, but a legacy.” I sweep my gaze over my teammates. “Our legacy.”
Someone beats a fist against their chest, and the fierce call to action helps fuel me on.
“We don’t back down,” I continue. “We rise up. Stronger. Fiercer.”
“Like a family,” Easton chimes in, voice ragged with emotion.
“Exactly.” I slap a palm on the table. “We’re a family. And families fight for each other, with every last breath.”
“Family,” they say in unison.
“Next week, we hit the ice harder. We play smarter as a team no matter what hometown we play in. But tonight”—I lean into the space we’ve carved out and raise my beer bottle—“we relax and ring in the new year. Because this season is ours to claim.”
Cheers erupt around our table, along with the clinking sound of bottles. I’m so focused on my teammates that I flinch when a cold hand touches my arm and pulls me from the moment and into Juliette’s gaze.
“Blake,” she purrs, batting those absurdly long lashes at me.
I raise an eyebrow at her and glance back toward Amanda. She’s watching us now, eyes sharp as glass shards. However, I don’t think they’re directed toward me.
“Juliette,” I nod, noting how she bristles at the formal tone. She slinks closer, her lips curling into a suggestive smile.
“I heard you’re single again. Such a shame it didn’t work out.”
My jaw tightens—the nerve of this girl. Before I can respond, Amanda and Maddy approach the group. The guys suddenly appear busy.
“I don’t recall inviting you to our table,” she says coldly to Juliette. Juliette’s eyes widened as Amanda took her place next to me again.
“You … you’re back?”
“Life’s full of surprises,” Amanda quips, chin held high, defiance sparkling in her eyes.
I can’t help but smirk at the understatement. Juliette’s shock is almost palpable, and I feel a twinge of something close to pity. Almost.
But then Juliette’s true self shines through, erasing any sense of sympathy.
“New year, same old desperate attempts to get noticed.” Juliette’s eyes dart in my direction, a challenge glinting in them.
I place my hand on the small of Amanda’s back to show solidarity, but my girl has it covered.
“Your new year might be better spent focusing on your own life instead of obsessing over others,” Amanda says.
Juliette’s smile falters, but the fire in her eyes burns brighter. Her provoking isn’t just about tonight; it’s a power play, one she’s used to winning.
“Obsessing? Yeah, right. You don’t have anything I’d want.”
