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I laughed. “Let’s have a good game out there. Play clean and play safe.”

I skated onto the ice with the rest of my team for the pregame warm-up, stunned. I hadn’t seen a crowd this large since I’d played at the Olympics. As I circled the rink, I was pumped that the seats were full and the crowd was fired up. At the same time, I hated that I had to wonder how much of the enthusiasm was because several NHL players would be here.

I pushed away the doubts, the noise. It wasn’t my job to question why fans were here. It was my job to play the game, to show them a damn good time. And hopefully, that would bring them back again and again. This was an opportunity, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

We finished our warm-up and stretches, and I tried to be discreet as I searched the crowd for Carson. I found him watching me from center ice. He was flanked by Frasier and Boone, but his attention was focused solely on me. When our eyes met, the corner of his mouth lifted in a secret smile, and I felt a surge of liquid heat coursing through my veins.

I smiled back, and Frasier waved, mistakenly thinking my smile was for him. I waved, trying not to laugh as I turned my back on them and resumed my pregame rituals.

Before I knew it, it was time for the face-off. Annie gained possession of the puck, and she nearly scored in the first five minutes of the game.

“Yes. That’s what I’m talking about,” I said to my teammates as we made our first line change.

The first period was off to a good start, but Maine wasn’t going to make it easy on us. I pivoted backward and forward, exploding into the crossovers as I alternated between offense and defense. Burg was holding them off, and we were locked in. It was exhilarating, and I felt good. Strong and powerful. Focused.

I told myself that was nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew that was a lie. I felt powerful because, out of all the people in the packed arena, I knew Carson was watching me. He was rooting for me.

It was so tempting to look to the stands, to seek him out again. But I kept my attention on the ice, cheering when Steph scored the first goal of the game with an assist from Annie. The crowd erupted, and Steph skated along the bench, fist-bumping the line of our teammates in celebration.

“Good job,” I said from the bench, guzzling some water. I was eager to return to the ice, but I was proud of my teammates for the level of play they’d brought to the game.

The second period came and went, with no points earned by either team. By the time the third period began, our opponents were desperate to score. They were running out of time, and they nearly managed to get one in the net.

“That’s it, Burg,” I cheered, launching myself over the boards and back onto the ice.

We just needed to hold them off a little longer. But then we got a penalty.

Fuck.

We were going to be down a player, and things were about to get aggressive.

I could hear the noise of the crowd, the voice of the announcer, but I couldn’t make out the words. Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I was focused on the game. Every game counted toward the play-offs, and even though it was still relatively early in the season, there was no time to waste.

I glanced to Steph and Ritz, and they nodded their silent agreement. We would not let the Beacons score. We would not let them win. When the whistle blew, we were locked in.

You’ve got this. Just hold on a little longer. Come on.

The puck zoomed toward my position, but one of the Beacons was tracking it and we ended up battling against the boards. I gave it my all, determined not to let my opponent win in the final minutes of the game because fuck that. I could hear Steph calling my name, and I found an opening, clearing the puck and hitting it toward her.

She snagged it and sped toward the opposite goal, looking for an opening as Annika rejoined us. The final seconds counted down with an agonizing slowness. But when the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the game, I was elated.

I howled as I headed to center ice, my teammates, then the stadium, joining in. We’d played hard, but it had been worth it.

The mood in the locker room was celebratory, and I congratulated my teammates for a job well done. We’d debrief next week, watching film to analyze what we’d done well and what we could do better.

After a shower and a postgame press conference, I headed down the tunnels to where some of the guys from the Hawks were hanging out. As soon as I entered the room, my eyes found Carson’s and my chest felt light. His lips started to spread into a smile, but then he schooled his expression into something more neutral. Instead, he lifted his chin in acknowledgment, and I held his gaze a moment longer before Frasier was standing in front of me.

As happy as I was to see one of my close friends, I wished I could’ve greeted Carson properly. I wished I didn’t have to act as if I didn’t know him. As if I hadn’t spent the past few months learning about his favorite foods and movies, dissecting the latest hockey games, arguing over who were the best players. I’d been impressed by his knowledge of women’s hockey, not just men’s.

“Lo.” Frasier opened his arms.

“Fizzy.” I grinned as he wrapped me up in a big hug, practically lifting me off the floor. I laughed as he set me back down, feeling as if I’d been transported back to college. “Good to see you.”

“You too. You looked good out there tonight.”

“Thanks.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “How are you? How’s Bryn?”

“I’m great,” he said, practically beaming. “She’s great.”