Page 73 of Double Puck

Now she's sitting up there looking immaculate again.

I fucking love the contrast.

And after this game, Darcy Madden is going on her first proper date.

With me.

Fuck yeah, she is.

The puck drops, and for the next hour, I play the best hockey of my season.

First period, I win every board battle I touch. I absorb a hit in the corner that rattles my teeth so a lane opens for Declan, and this time — this time — when Declan threads the pass and Travis buries it, Coach smacks my helmet on the way past the bench. "Atta boy!"

I look up to the stands, winking at the woman I had in my arms a few nights ago.

Second period, I draw a penalty without taking one, kill two off ourselves, and set up Mason for a one-timer that clangs off the post. It's 1-1 and every shift I put in feels clean. Disciplined. I'm playing the exact game the audit wants and the wild thing is, it doesn't even feel like a leash.

It feels like proof.

Proof I belong here. Proof I want to be here.

Third period. 2-2. Six minutes left, and the Bear Cave is louder than I've ever heard it.

I'm waiting for the slot to open in the neutral zone. The puck comes my way and I read it perfectly. I strip their defenseman clean, and suddenly I've got ice. Lots of ice.

Options open up before my eyes.

Option one: I could chip it deep, change lines, live to fight another shift. It's the disciplined play. The Declan play. The play the statistics love.

Or…

There's option two.

I take a breath. Their last man back is flat-footed, and there is a gap between his skates that is exactly the size of a highlight reel. I slide the puck at the gap, but the guy who looked flat-footed isn't.

His stick flashes down, and he kills the puck dead.

By the time I've pivoted he's already whacked the puck the other way. Fuck. I'm the wrong side of everyone, chasing a play I created for the wrong team.

In the blink of an eye, the opposing team makes three passes, and before I can even skid to a stop, the puck is in the net behind Sawyer.

The Bear Cave goes so quiet so fast it's like someone pulled a plug on the ocean.

3-2. Four minutes left.

We push. God, we push.

Declan plays the last two minutes like a man possessed, Mason blocks a shot with a part of his body no one should block shots with.

But we lose.

And standing there on the blue line while their bench celebrates, one thought lands on me with the weight of the whole building.

I cost us the game. I cost us the game, and she saw it.

The problem is… I played well.

For fifty-six minutes, I did my part for the team.