Page 321 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

The crowd begins clapping even before the introductions start.

Each player skates onto the ice to a burst of applause. The building grows louder with every name.

Finally, the announcer pauses. His voice carries an unmistakable note of anticipation.

"And now..." The applause begins before he even finishes. "Returning to the Frostholm Blizzards lineup..."

The tunnel vibrates beneath the sound. Coach steps beside me. He doesn't say anything.

He simply reaches over and brushes one thumb across the embroidered "C" on my jersey.

Then he gives me the smallest nod. Go.

I push off. The tunnel opens onto eighteen thousand people rising to their feet. The standing ovation crashes over me like a wave.

For a heartbeat, I simply stand there. The ice stretches beneath my skates. The banners hang overhead. The sound surrounds me from every direction.

Months ago, I wondered if I would ever hear this again.

Now...

I understand it isn't applause for a captain returning from injury. It's eighteen thousand people welcoming someone home.

I lift one hand in acknowledgment before skating a slow circle toward center ice.

The cheers refuse to fade. As I pass our bench, Liam pounds the boards with his stick.

Toby follows. Then Caleb.

One by one, every player joins until the entire bench echoes through the arena.

I glance toward the stands one more time. Annette is smiling through unmistakable tears.

Mom has one arm around her shoulders. Dad is applauding with the proud, quiet smile I've seen only a handful of times in my life.

Coach remains standing behind the bench. Our eyes meet. He folds his arms. No grin. No celebration. Just another small nod.

This one says something different. Now go be yourself.

I smile. That I know how to do.

***

The opening faceoff drops.

Instinct takes over before conscious thought has a chance to catch up.

The puck kicks backward off the draw, and I pivot toward our defensive zone as the visiting center drives hard through the middle. Toby angles him toward the boards while Caleb tracks the developing play from his crease with the quiet confidence that has made him one of the best goaltenders in the league.

The game immediately settles into playoff pace.

Every shift matters.

Every inch of ice is earned.

The first time I step into the corner to battle for a loose puck, time seems to slow.

A defenseman closes hard from my blind side. I don't hesitate. I absorb the contact, protect the puck with my body, slide it safely behind the net, and hear our bench erupt as we complete the breakout.