Page 327 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

I laugh, reaching over to tap the side of his helmet. "You were exactly where you were supposed to be."

"I almost passed it."

"I'm glad you didn't."

His grin widens. "So am I."

***

The scoreboard now reads 3–2.

Three minutes and forty-seven seconds remain.

In hockey, that can feel like forever.

The visitors shorten their bench immediately, double shifting their top line in search of one more chance. The building is alive now, every fan leaning forward with nervous anticipation.

Coach catches my eye.

"Walker."

I glide toward the bench. He doesn't bother with diagrams.

"Keep everyone organized."

I nod.

He knows I understand. This isn't the time for heroics. It's the time for leadership.

***

The next shift belongs to Caleb.

A point shot ricochets through heavy traffic before changing direction off someone's skate.

For one terrifying instant the puck seems destined for the top corner.

Caleb reacts on instinct. His glove flashes upward. Leather snaps shut.

The whistle blows. The arena erupts.

I skate over and tap the top of his mask.

"That one's for the highlight reel."

He shrugs as though he'd just caught a routine warm-up shot.

***

Time begins disappearing in frustratingly small pieces. The opposing coach signals his goaltender.

The crowd recognizes the gesture before I do.

The goalie heads toward the bench. Six attackers. Empty net.

Everything comes down to one final push.

The faceoff is deep in our zone.