Page 35 of A Match Made In Fall

“You owe me,” he retorts.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He laughs. “You didn’t miss anything important, anyway. If anything, your late arrival kept me from falling asleep.”

“Really? Why does that not surprise me? Does he ever say anything we need to hear?”

“Not recently,” Nick replies.

I take off, gliding around on the ice feeling lighter than ever. It’s almost like I’m skating on pure adrenaline. Hopefully this is a good sign and I can bring this momentum into tonight’s game. I’m overdue for a spectacular performance in the rink. And since Isabella’s going to be there, I can’t think of a better time to prove how I got to this point.

It’s the second period, and the score is tied. Every second on the ice tonight feels like a battle for survival. The Cavaliers are one of the toughest teams on our schedule this season, and now I understand exactly why. They’re relentless and stay on us at every turn, it’s almost like they are anticipating plays before we even make them, like they memorized our entire playbook before coming here tonight.

Thankfully there have been a few bright spots.

I’ve had two assists so far tonight, and occasionally, I catch glimpses of Isabella in the stands cheering just as loud as anyone else. Even through the chaos of the arena, I notice her immediately. It does something to me knowing someone is here specifically for me. I’m sure she’s here to support the Bears like everyone else in the arena, but a guy can dream that he has his own personal cheering squad.

Meanwhile, Coach Denton is in rare form tonight. Every time-out turns into another few minutes to unveil a new mantra. Most of the time his “wisdom” goes in one ear and out the other, but tonight a few things stick.

“Stop waiting for them to make mistakes,” he snaps during one time-out, pacing in front of us. “Outsmart them and force them to make the mistakes. Do you want this win? Then take it—you deserve it more. Show them.”

By the start of the third period, things finally shift in our favor.

The Cavaliers make a few bad passes, some messy line changes, and hesitations that finally give us the upper hand. We gain momentum fast, with the help of energy coming from the crowd. Halfway through the period, we break through and score. It feels like a miracle.

The arena erupts into an octave I haven’t heard in a very long time. I take the free moment to glance toward Isabella’s section where she’s sitting beside Abby and her friend Jaclyn who’s on the Bears’ marketing staff.

Isabella is cheering wildly, giving high fives to the fans around her like she’s been part of this fan base forever. She fits in here so naturally, which is nice to see.

And somehow, watching her celebrate makes the goal even more exciting.

“Nice work, boys,” Coach says during the break. His voice is calmer but still intense. “There are six minutes left. That’s it. You can hold them off for that length of time. Believe in yourselves and trust the work you’ve put in. Every one of you earned your place on this team. Now prove why.”

We gather closer in the huddle, raising our sticks together before pushing back onto the ice.

The final six minutes seem to crawl. It almost feels like everything is in slow motion. Every move feels like it’s life or death for the team. The Cavaliers throw everything they have at us, trying to tie the game. There are a couple brutal close calls that cause us all to brace for the worst, but Nick is there in front of the net, making one impossible save after another.

When the final buzzer sounds, relief and adrenaline explode through me at the same time.

The Bears win 2–1.

No matter how many victories I experience, the feeling never changes. Every win somehow feels like the first one all over again. The rush wipes away the physical exhaustion after sixty minutes on the clock that ends up being nearly three hours of nonstop moving.

My teammates and I celebrate on the ice before skating toward the glass to fire up the crowd even more.

In the stands Abby is hugging everyone around her while the fans chant Nick’s name. Isabella is clapping and singing along with the crowd. Her cheeks are flushed from excitement of the last few minutes of game time. How is it possible that she gets prettier every time I look at her?

Eventually we head to the locker room, still yelling in celebration until Coach finally demands enough silence to start his postgame speech. I still don’t understand how he thinks we can sit still after what just happened. Like always, I try to focus, but my attention keeps drifting. Doesn’t he realize that we have people waiting for us. The fans are waiting for us, and there’s one I want to see.

“That was so much fun,” Isabella says excitedly as we walk out of the arena. “Honestly, it was even better than the first game I went to. I can’t believe how intense the games get. It’s impossible not to get caught up in it.”

I laugh softly. “That’s real hockey right there. It pulls you in before you even realize what’s happening.”

“I’m starting to understand the obsession,” she admits.

“This is only the beginning. In another month you’ll be yelling at refs with everyone else.”

She grins. “I already wanted to tonight.”