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As was tradition by now, Beckett swept by Caden, yanked his hand, and swirled them around in celebration. When their helmets were off, they kissed so passionately that it was a wonder any ice remained in the rink.
I felt the heat rising to my face.
As if by instinct, I searched the team for the sight of my stepbrother. He was hard to miss; the biggest guy in a Titans uniform, large enough to tackle anyone who got in the way of our victory. I’d spent years wondering what it felt like to be crushed by him.
Jordan took off his helmet. His inch-long hair was tousled with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His face was glowing with heat and his smile was bigger than I’d seen in ages. He only ever smiled this much on the ice. Never back home.
Someone grabbed my shoulder and shook me to my senses. Sawyer wore his secretive smile as always. The story went that he used to scowl at everything and everyone, but ever since I’d met him, he always looked like he had just heard the best joke ever and waited for the right moment to tell it. “Well done,” he said.
My part had been small today. I’d done as I had been told. I had kept the Breakers occupied more than once, giving our wingers a chance to score the points. Still, it was good to be appreciated. “You’re the star of the game,” I pointed out. “Deflecting that puck from a mile away.”
Sawyer cackled and skated away, saying something to Phoenix, Sebastian, and Avery, who were on the other side of the growing group of Titans. My gaze returned to Jordan and stayed there all the while ovations poured throughout the rink and we basked in our glory. For this one shining moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it.
This entire year had been one big struggle. I’d tried and tried to break out, but I remained the most average of players on our team. Nobody would call me bad, but there were few who talked of my promising future. There was a lot of talk of talent, but few mentioned any significant results. I was good, not great.
And off the ice, my GPA was nothing to write home about. I failed at nothing, but I excelled at nothing, too.
The third category of what I had expected college to be like was probably the worst. I saw my friends fall in love, look hopefully to their futures, and heal after heartbreaks. Me? I had hooked up a few times, got rid of my V-card at long last — even if it was oddly underwhelming that first time — and realized I had nothing to hope for. Not one guy showed an ounce of interest beyond sleeping with me. I felt the same. So much so that I had given up on the whole thing a few months ago. I’d deleted the ‘dating’ apps, which only served for guys to arrange anonymous hookups, and I had promised myself that my sophomore year was going to be all about my GPA and hockey. Random guys who wanted to get naked with me excited me so little that it didn’t feel like a loss.
I was cutting out the distractions.
But I couldn’t get rid of them all. One distraction walked before me as we headed to the locker room. His scent was musky with sweat, but there were traces of a pine forest and lemon coming from his heated skin. Drenched as he was, Jordan was still the best-looking person I had ever seen.
Some guys didn’t care if they were seen naked in the locker room. Beckett, before he had switched teams and started dating Caden, had freely strolled around the locker room with his tool swinging around. Cocky fucker. Not that I had cared. It had only been an observation coated with disappointment that Jordan had never, ever done that. He would neatly tie a towel around his waist, walk back to his spot, rummage through his duffle, and pull his long boxers up his legs and under the towel. Once he was done, he would take the towel off while facing the wall, drag his pants on, and only then face the rest of the room. I had spent countless summer hours watching his torso, but even so, I always paused for a breath to glance at him. Today was no different. Once we had showered and returned to the locker room, Jordan occupied all of my attention.
The banter and friendly bickering were secondary. Guys were elated over our victory and I was happy that the mood was so light. But my focus was on Jordan. Three…two…one. He turned away, rolled his shoulders so that his pecs seemed bigger for a heartbeat, and met my gaze squarely.
Fuck.
If I kept looking, it would be a challenge; if I looked away, I would lose. I had been better than this. This whole year, I knew how to steal a glance without getting caught. I knew how to look from Jordan’s right to his far left, my gaze gliding over him without actually looking at him.
He was still staring at me like I’d tattooed a middle finger on my forehead. It annoyed me enough to make me purse my lips and flatten my eyebrows. I was about to say something when he turned away from me. And though he was the one to break eye contact, I was left with the sense that I had lost this match.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. We barely dressed before Coach Murray entered the locker room. He beamed with pride and waited for the chatter to die down. The guys relaxed a little, dropping their backpacks and duffels, and turning their attention to Coach Murray.
This was the man who had seen my potential. I wished I could have done more to justify his decision to put me on his team. Luckily, I had three more years for that, and starting in August, my focus would be straight as an arrow and just as piercing.
“My Titans,” Coach Murray said. He sounded more like he was musing than addressing us. “Year after year, you prove yourselves as the best team in the Tri-state region. And beyond, I would say. The Arctic Titans fill the ranks of the NHL year after year. And when I look at you — all your young, hopeful, determined faces — I see an unstoppable force, a well of potential that is almost as unlikely as finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” He paused while we laughed. After a beat, he nodded. “We have an unusual concentration of talent here at Northwood. And in the past handful of years, that talent has blossomed and turned this team into an example of athletic excellence in colleges all around the country.” Coach Murray lifted a finger, his steel gray mustache twitching. “Don’t let this go into your heads, boys. You may be on the best team. You may make the team as great as it is. But greatness only lasts so long as you are all aligned, focused, and committed.”
“Here, here,” a few voices rose in the locker room.
“This year, you’ve won the cup, and now you’ve closed your season with a friendly game, taking this victory as a cherry on top of a very delicious cake,” Coach Murray said, his voice rising.
Cheers rose more freely around me.
“But don’t fool yourself into thinking that you’re at the top of the world, boys. There’s always another mountain to climb. There’s always another game to win.” He paused. His thinking seemed to take a lot longer than what I was used to. Then, he nodded slowly. “I will risk sounding soft, but the last few years have been a blessing. I’ve witnessed the forging of great men who will go on to stardom. And you, my team, despite all the headaches you have given me, have made me proud. That’s the word I’m looking for, boys. I’m proud. Of your grace in victory as well as your dignity in defeat. I’m proud to have seen you grow and fall in love, to have seen your teammates go on to be revered professionals, and to have welcomed a new generation of Arctic Titans.” He looked at Phoenix and me, and then he nodded. His mustache twitched one more time as he looked around the room. “This, then, is as good a time as any to tell you that I will leave Northwood with my heart full of pride. This year was my final one, boys, but even when I hand the reins to the next coach, I will keep an eye on you all. There won’t come a day when I won’t be glad to have dedicated my life to the Arctic Titans.” Gasps that had filled the room in one instant were gone in the next.
In the silence, my ears buzzed. It was so abrupt, this lack of murmurs and chatter. We all stood stunned and quiet, our hearts beating a little faster as the surprise sank in.
Someone — Beckett? — started slow clapping. Another pair of hands joined in. I glanced there and found the third, Jordan, clapping alongside Beckett and Caden.
“We love you, Coach,” Tyler said loudly, and Sebastian echoed it immediately.
The slow claps grew into thundering applause and we all showered Coach Murray with praise and love. This was a man I had respected for years. I had learned of him from Jordan. And as all things Jordan had introduced into my life, I revered him. The underlying instinct to think highly of everything and everyone Jordan respected made me both glad — I had never had any doubt about Coach Murray’s intentions — and ashamed. Where was I in all of this? Jordan shaped me with little more than a shrug, a nod, or a dismissive snort. His stories sparked wild wishes and his opinions mattered more than he could have imagined. But he didn’t care. Unless it was to scold or lecture me.
Coach Murray pulled my attention back to the present. “I won’t say you’ve made me happy to retire. I don’t look forward to leaving you. But…it’s far better than leaving with nothing more than a sigh and disappointment. I couldn’t have wished for a better lineup to see me off, boys. And I can’t wait to see what you do next.” He took a small step back.
Ovations, whistling, and hooting continued until Coach Murray bowed a little, waved, and nodded. His eyes glistened and my throat seized. I hadn’t expected to see it. He was a stone-faced man, hard in every way, but his smile was genuine and fit his face like he’d been smiling his whole life. He was glowing and beaming with pride as the bittersweet sense of finality gripped the room.
