Then they take it.
A rocket from the point, heading straight for the top corner. Our goalie makes an absolutely impossible save, just barely getting a piece of it to tip it over the crossbar.
The crowd explodes.
And that's when I see movement on our bench.
Someone's standing up. Pulling on their helmet.
My heart stops.
Xaden.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “He's going in.”
Harper grabs my arm. “Jesus Christ, finally.”
I watch, completely transfixed, as Xaden steps over the boards onto the ice for the first time tonight. The energy in the building shifts instantly, you can feel it crackling through the air like electricity before a storm.
Even Somerset notices. I see their players exchanging glances, see the way they straighten up, suddenly more alert. My brother is screaming at the ref, their side of the rink is protesting and demanding the ref call the game but he ignores them.
Somerset knows what’s coming.
Xaden skates to center ice for the face-off, and even from here I can see the intensity radiating off him. The hunger. The absolute determination to win.
The ref drops the puck.
Everything changes.
Xaden wins the face-off cleanly, sending the puck back to our defense, then he's off, moving with a speed and grace that steals my breath.
This is different from watching highlights or seeing him practice. This is Xaden Devlin unleashed, playing like every second matters, like this game is life or death.
And maybe, for him, it is.
Somerset tries to clear the zone but Xaden intercepts the pass like he knew exactly where it was going. He spins away from a defender, so fast the guy nearly falls trying to follow and races toward their goal.
Two Somerset players converge on him but he threads the puck between them to Cas, who one-times it immediately.
The goalie makes the save but can't control the rebound.
And Xaden is right there.
He buries it top shelf before the goalie can even react.
The building erupts.
I'm on my feet before I realize I'm moving, screaming along with everyone else as our bench empties onto the ice. Players swarm Xaden, helmets flying, sticks raised in celebration.
3-2.
Through all the chaos, through all the bodies and noise and madness, Xaden's eyes find mine.
He points directly at me.
Not subtle.
Not hidden.
