We don’t hide anymore.
It’s terrifying and liberating at the same time.
The next night, I spot Noah in the stands before puck drop.
He’s sitting with my dad in the family section, and they’re both wearing Raptors gear. He catches my eye and smiles.
One year ago, he couldn’t even look at me during games. He was too careful. Too controlled.
Now he’s here wearing my number.
The anthem plays. The crowd roars. The lights dim for our home opener.
It’s a new season. A fresh start.
The puck drops.
I win the draw and drive hard to the net. I shoot and the puck sails cleanly into the crease.
Seventeen seconds in, and we’re up by one.
The arena explodes.
I look up at the stands and find Noah on his feet, grinning and waving his arms in the air.
This. This is what I fought for.
The game’s fast. Dallas is good, but we’re better. Carter scores in the second period. Jack adds another goal in the third.
With two minutes left, we’re up three to two. Dallas pulls their goalie. I’m on the ice for defensive coverage. I charge through to break up their rush and send the puck to Tate. He chips it ahead.
I’m already moving toward their empty net, racing their defenseman for the loose puck.
I get there first and tap it into the empty net.
The final buzzer roars.
Four to two. Game over.
My teammates mob me on the ice and it feels fucking awesome. Like I’m really back.
After we clear the ice and head back to the locker room, I shower and change. Noah waits for me by the family exit.
“Nice game,” he says.
“Nice? I scored two goals.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, hotshot.”
I take his hand. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Where to?”
“Anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”
We walk to the parking deck, and I think about everything it took to get here.
The suspension. The scandal. The breakup. The fight to get back.
Every mistake. Every risk. Every choice to fight instead of giving up.
It all led here.
To this moment. To us.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
THE END
