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He holds out his fist, and when I bump it with mine, he steps back. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

The sound of heavy steps behind me signals it’s time for warm-ups, so I put my helmet on and head out onto the ice, even more motivated to win than I was minutes ago.

The first period was more like a foray. The Phantoms, as well as our opponents, spent most of our time on the ice testing the defenders, looking for weak spots and playing on our goalies’ nerves in turns. At the buzzer, the two zeros on the jumbotron felt less like a tie and more like two very talented teams had just completed a warm-up.

After a pep talk from Coach, we returned for the second period energized to score. Pittsburgh was as motivated, so we spent the first five minutes trying to create an opportunity while our defenders worked their asses off to keep our opponent from scoring.

We finally take the lead when our left wing shoots and I gather the rebound, flipping the puck into a near-open net for a power-play goal.

With just over two minutes left in the second, I bump my shoulder into Turner. He pushes back, battling me for the position in the slot. I grit my teeth, trying to steal the puck from him and fucking fail. He takes off, rushing to our net, and before I can catch up to him, he passes the puck to his teammate, who then directs a shot from above the right circle past Gunner, our goalie.

Fuck.

I suck in harsh breaths as Pittsburgh celebrates their first goal. The stakes are higher now, though that’s typically the case with hockey. Unless the game is over, either team has a chance to win.

When second period ends and we head into the locker room, we’re still tied 1-1. Dammit, I want to win this game!

At the beginning of third period, I win face-off and send the puck to our right wing. Kennedy catches it with ease, heading toward the Pittsburgh net, and I rush after him, blood pumping in my veins, setting my skin on fire.

With another push, I skate past him, and when our eyes meet, he grins. He slides the puck right past Pittsburgh’s defender.

“Come on,” I mutter as it flies toward my stick. When it makes contact, I shout, “Gotcha!”

I skate toward Pittsburgh’s net, and with a wrist shot from the left circle, I send the puck into the upper-right corner of the net, making the score 2–1.

As my teammates skate toward me for a short celebration, Turner heads for his team’s bench, shaking his head.

For the rest of third period, our team plays defense. Time and time again, our defenders cut Pittsburgh’s attempts short. With determination like we’ve got tonight, Pittsburgh seems to be getting desperate. Can’t blame them. No one wants to lose their first game of the regular season.

As the last minute of the game counts down, I watch my teammates from the bench, my knees bouncing. With twenty seconds left, the buzz of the arena grows louder, and then Virtanen, our left wing, beelines toward the Pittsburgh net. With a powerful slap shot, he secures our win.

We’re all on our feet, and when the buzzer signals the end of the game, we rush onto the ice. The fans shout and cheer, and I can’t stop smiling. Beating an opponent like Pittsburgh 3–1 is no small feat.

Before I join my teammates, I find Isla. Smiling, she sends a kiss my way. I pretend to catch it with my gloved hand, pressing it to my chest.

Her kisses belong to my heart. These days, they are my life-force.

When I step into the apartment two hours later, the TV is on. I take off my shoes and my bomber, drop my duffel bag on the floor, and head toward the sound.

The living room is dim. The only source of light is the huge TV on the wall. It looks like Isla is watching Solo Leveling. She sits on the couch, her legs tucked under her butt, and⁠—

My heart stutters. Because the woman is still wearing my jersey.

“Hey,” I say, my voice hoarse.

She pauses the show and turns to look at me. “Hi. Congratulations on your win. You guys were incredible.”

“Thanks.” I slowly step into the room, heading toward her. “How about Turner? Was he incredible too?”

She shrugs. “He played a good game, but not as good as you did. Every person around me was praising you. Especially the girls.”

I stop in front of her and take her chin between my fingers. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Smug.” She grins. “They can cheer for you, but I get you all to myself.”

“You own me, baby.” I wink at her, then let my eyes travel down her form. “You’re still in my jersey.”