Morgan loses what's left of her mind, and Zoey?
She's finally having fun.
But somewhere in the chaos of the roaring crowd, the thumping bass, and Morgan waving that foam finger like she's directing air traffic, Zoey's hand moves to where mine is resting on my knee.
Without a word, without a glance, without a single signal that she's about to upend my entire universe… her fingers drift across the denim of my jeans and slide through mine, threading between my knuckles like she's been thinking about doing it for longer than she'd ever admit.
I go completely still, but don't dare look at her.
I don't evenbreathe. Don't do a single goddamn thing that might spook her into pulling away.
Her fingers are smaller than mine, but soft and warm.
The rest of the second period plays out through a haze I can barely track.
I don't let go of Zoey's hand once.
Cade wins a faceoff that leads to a power play. Samuel blocks a shot that would've tied it. The Snow Leopards take a 2-1 lead into the third.
Morgan screams herself hoarse three feet away, completely oblivious to the fact that her mother just reached across the divide betweensafeandterrifyingand chose to hold on.
She choseme.
Down on the ice, the third period is a war.
Seattle ties it 2-2 with four minutes left, and the arena goes from celebration to cardiac arrest in a single shift. Morgan is gripping Zoey's opposite arm so hardI'mlosing circulation.
"THEY CAN'T LOSE! THEY CAN'T LOSE!"
"They won't," I tell her, and I sound a lot more confident than I feel.
Ninety seconds on the clock and Nico calls a timeout. Samuel gathers the boys at the bench, and even from up here I can feel the intensity radiating off them.
The whistle blows for a faceoff at center ice.
Samuel wins it clean, kicking the puck back to the blue line. Silas fires a shot that Seattle's goalie stops, but the rebound kicks loose. The puck squirts free, bodies crashing after it.
And then Cade Jensen appears from nowhere.
"Morgan! This is it!" I say, squeezing Zoey's hand too tight.
Morgan squeals as the puck hits Cade's tape. He doesn't think twice. Doesn't hesitate. He just hits it with one touch, right into the top corner.
The net bulges.
3-2.
The arenadetonates.
The goal horn blasts so hard the seats vibrate and purple and gold lights explode across every surface. Morgan is airborne, literally jumping on her seat, the foam finger windmilling above her head, screaming words that aren't even words anymore.
And then Jensen does it again.
With thirty-seven seconds left, Seattle pulls their goalie, and Cade picks the pocket at the red line, walks in alone, and buries it.
Hat trick.
Purple Snow Leopards hats rain from the upper bowl. The arena shakes so hard I feel it in my teeth. The Snow Leopardspile on Cade at center ice, and the scoreboard flashes 4-2 in letters taller than my grandmother.
