The scoreboard read 2-2, and the Frozen Four final had turned into a horror movie. The clock ticked down from one minute, and I could feel every second pounding in every inch of my veins as I shifted from one foot to the other, sweat dripping from my temples despite the icy chill in the rink.
“Keep it together!” Coach’s voice echoed from the bench. As if I needed the reminder. Every fiber of me was locked in, tracking the puck as it moved between the opposing team’s forwards.
They were hungry; it was obvious in the way they zipped passes back and forth, their skates cutting clean arcs into the ice. But we were just as desperate, just as eager to bring home this win.
My guys had played their souls out. We had come back from a brutal first period, clawed our way up from a 2-0 deficit, and shut down every one of their power plays since.
The sweat-soaked, exhausted, and battered faces of my teammates were an unmistakable sign to show just how badly we wanted this.
“Thirty seconds!” someone yelled.
My focus tunneled, the noises of the crowd fading completely into the background like some kind of white noise.
The puck was at the blue line, then suddenly launched into our zone. I dropped low, tracking it as if my life depended on it, while one of the opposing forwards darted in. My D-man, Kaan, threw himself against the boards to stop their forward.
The puck slid loose.
I was ready for anything.
Anything, except that blind pass.
Their center swooped in, catching the puck mid-stride. His stick cut a sharp arc as he fired it to the winger on my left. I pushed off with my right skate, sliding across the crease just as the shot came rushing toward the top corner. Glove out, I snatched it out of the air, closing my hand tight around it like it was my fucking lifeline.
The whistle blew. Cheers erupted from our bench. I flung the puck out to the referee and leaned on my stick, sucking in a breath as the seconds on the clock ticked by.
Fifteen left.
“Alright, Eden, you’ve got this,” I muttered to myself. My voice was swallowed by the chaos around me, but that was alright.
Just one more save.
One more clear, and we’d get to overtime.
And then? Who even knew?
The ref dropped the puck for the faceoff in our zone.
The Icehawk’s guys won it cleanly. The puck slid to their defenseman, who was hesitant for a split second before sending it wide to the left. The winger caught it on the blade and bolted toward the net.Mynet.
Ten seconds.
I crouched lower, instincts kicking in as the seconds ticked by in my head.
Seven.
Six.
The winger faked a shot, and I bit. He deked right and slid the puck to their center. The asshole was waiting right at the slot.
Four seconds.
I pushed off hard, closing the gap. My pad caught the first shot, deflecting it to the side.
Three seconds.
Their winger pounced on the rebound. Another shot, this one low. My stick was there, pushing the puck toward the corner.
Two seconds.
