Page 380 of Faking the Goal

God, I love that man.

The final minutes somehow move both impossibly fast and painfully slow after that. Every time the clock stops, the entire arena seems to inhale together, and every time it starts again, the noise gets louder. Three minutes. Two. Then the clock slips beneath sixty seconds and suddenly nobody around me is sitting anymore.

Neither am I.

The Warriors are still up four–nothing, and Kentaro is still guarding that zero like his life depends on it.

"FIFTY SECONDS!" Miho screams beside me, grabbing my arm.

"I can see the clock!"

"I'M TOO EXCITED!"

"So am I!"

The other team pulls their goalie for the extra attacker, throwing everything they have left at Ridgewater, and the puck stays in our zone long enough to shave approximately six years off my life. Elijah manages to knock it away from the front of the net, Luke battles someone for it along the boards, and then it squirts loose again.

Twenty seconds.

Another shot comes through traffic.

Kentaro blocks it.

The rebound kicks away, and Liam clears it down the ice.

Ten.

The entire arena starts counting.

"NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN!"

I forget my camera completely. It hangs against my chest while I scream with everyone else, Miho practically climbing onto me as we clutch each other.

"THREE! TWO! ONE!"

The horn sounds.

For half a second, everything becomes pure fucking chaos.

The Ridgewater bench empties onto the ice. Gloves and sticks go flying as every Warrior heads straight for the crease, and Kentaro barely has time to straighten before his teammates crash into him from every direction.

I laugh through the tears already spilling down my cheeks.

They fucking did it.

The Ridgewater Warriors are national champions.

And my boyfriend just shut out the other team in the Frozen Four Championship.

My boyfriend.

Holy fucking shit.

I grab my camera again because, right, job, and start shooting through the blur in my eyes. Zach gets to Kentaro first and grabs the sides of his mask, yelling something directly into his face before smacking the top of his helmet. Cody barrels into them next. Then Elijah. Liam. Luke. Within seconds, Kentaro disappears beneath navy and green jerseys as his entire team mobs him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, gloves pounding affectionately against his helmet and chest while he gets shoved around in the middle of them.

When they finally separate enough for me to see him again, Kentaro yanks off his mask.

And he's smiling.