Page 104 of Breaking the Ice

“We’ve got it this year.” Jonas knocks his fist against mine, fire in his gaze.

We helped the team bring home a national championship as sophomores, then lost in the final game as juniors. Jonas took it personal, and he’s got something to prove this year. I didn’t let last year’s loss eat me up inside the way he did, but this is our last chance. I feel his passion. I want to win for me, for this team, for Coach.

I give him a nod. “Hell yeah.”

After we finish gearing up, we play “How Far I’ll Go” from Moana for the team—don’t ask—and head out to the ice.

Minnesota’s good, but we’re better. I’m not being cocky. It’s just the truth. With John in the net, Mateo at center, and Jonas and I backing him up, we’re on fire tonight. Caleb and Levi lead our second line, and they are just as excellent.

It takes all my focus, but I keep my head in the game. I don’t let myself look at the seats across the ice where Isabella and her mom usually sit.

When I woke up this morning, she was gone. She’d left me a note, but it was hard to gauge her tone. I was hoping to see her for lunch or dinner, but she texted and said she couldn’t make it. She Door-Dashed me a (tree-nut free!) burrito from my favorite spot, which was really sweet. But I would have rather eaten a can of beans and seen her.

So I don’t know if she’s here tonight. If I let my gaze wander to those seats, then I’ll have confirmation either way. Will that help my playing or hurt it? Not sure, so I just keep my head down and watch the ice.

Minnesota squeaks a goal past, but by the end of the third period, we’re up three to one. With four minutes left, Coach calls a timeout, and my line skates over to the bench, huddling up to hear his advice.

“Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched, men.” Coach nods, like this expression makes sense, and then sends us back out to get into position.

“What the hell does that even mean?” I ask Jonas, as we hunker down behind Mateo.

“It means don’t treat it like a win until it’s official.”

“Why didn’t Coach just say that?”

“No idea.”

The ref blows his whistle, and the ice goes silent. The puck drops. Minnesota gets it, but Jonas wastes no time stealing it and tearing off towards the goal. I follow. He passes it to me, and I spin to avoid the opposing winger. I pass to Mateo, who shoots it back to Jonas. I position myself a few feet from the net, elbowing the guy defending me. Jonas circles behind the net, then whips the puck to me. I feint left, and the goalie falls for it, leaving a hole open on the right for me to put the biscuit in the basket.

The crowd erupts with cheers and adrenaline races through my veins. The guys pile up in a hug, pounding my back.

“Great goal, man,” Jonas says, grinning, as we reset in the faceoff circle.

“Great teamwork.” I touch his stick with mine in a ‘high five.’ “Let’s do this.”

We hold the Badgers off until the clock runs out, and the buzzer sounds. I’m surrounded again in a group hug as we celebrate on the ice. Our victory song, “All I Do is Win,” plays in the background.

We skate over to our bench. I grab my water bottle and squirt a stream into my mouth. The announcer drones on over the loudspeaker, giving the stats for the game. Then his voice changes.

“Uh, folks, it appears we have something a little unorthodox going on tonight. If you would direct your attention back to center ice…”

I probably wouldn’t have noticed, but all my teammates watch what’s happening. The Zamboni drives out, and music begins playing over the PA system. Not our victory song anymore, but old-school Bruno Mars.

And then a voice I recognize starts singing.

“It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.”

I turn from the bench to see what’s going on and blink. Isabella rides on the Zamboni in the white dress she wore to our wedding, holding a sparkly microphone.

“Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice? Who cares, baby? I think I wanna marry you.”

Joy bubbles in my chest, and I laugh as she circles the ice, singing the whole song. My teammates eyes are on me, but I ignore them, dancing and hamming it up for the Jumbotron. What has inspired this serenade?

The song ends, and the audience roars their approval. She’s amazing.

“I just wanted to come out here and say to my husband, Evan, that I love you and I would marry you all over again.” Amplified by the speakers, her voice wavers. “I’m so proud of you.”

My heart lurches. She loves me? Really?