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Chapter 22
Miller
Sweat drips down my back as I push myself in what has to be the hardest game we have played all season. Hell, it’s the hardest game I’ve played since becoming a Dragon four years ago, but I keep pushing. There’s no way I’m giving up this close to the semi-finals.
The Dragons deserve it. They’ve been working their asses off all season, and if I’m not doing it for these guys, then I’m doing it for our fans. The very same fans who have supported us all season and who have currently filled our grandstand to maximum capacity. We’re going to make it. I just know it.
There are ten minutes left in the game, and we’re neck and neck with the opposing team. Coach calls a timeout and we all skate over to the boards to huddle around him. A bottle of water hurls toward my face from who the fuck knows where, but I don’t hesitate to grab it. I squirt it into my mouth and over my face then concentrate on every last word coming from Coach’s mouth.
He’s red in the face from yelling at us during the game. I know he feels just as exhausted as we do, which is exactly what we expect from an amazing coach like him. With only thirty seconds on the clock for our time out, he lays out a new plan of attack, gives us a pep talk, and sends us on our way with refreshed motivation to kick the other team’s asses.
Tank and I butt heads and clap each other on the back as we skate into position, the crowd roaring around us, excited for the final deciding ten minutes of the game. I glance up to find Dani watching me with a look of pride on her face, and I know she feels it right there along with me. This game is ours.
The referee blows his whistle and the game is on.
Tank and I push forward as we dominate the puck in perfect sync with each other. Hell, even Jaxon is in with us tonight. Well, I suppose that’s not fair. Jaxon has been working his ass off a lot lately. I think he might have even grown enough to take over as captain next year, but we’ll see how he does during the rest of the season.
Two skaters charge at me, and I shoot the puck to Tank who sends it straight to Jaxon as he comes up the center. I dart to the left to narrowly avoid being slammed into the wall and come up behind Jaxon in case he needs assistance. He won’t, though. He’s lined up perfectly. He won’t miss.
Jaxon rears back with his stick, shoots it forward, and just as expected, sends the puck sailing straight into the back of the net.
The crowd flies to their feet, roaring their support and practically shaking the stands beneath them. Hell, if this place wasn’t built so great, I’d be worried it would come down on us at any second.
Jaxon turns back and looks at me, and I realize he’s searching for my approval. I skate up to him and hold my fist out. “Good work, kid,” I say with a nod as he bumps my fist with pride in his eyes and a grin the size of Texas across his face.
I watch him in surprise as he skates off. Out of all of us fuck-ups, who would have thought Jaxon Payne would be the one to surprise me?
He skates past the rest of our team hanging out over the barrier to clap him on the back as he passes. I come up behind him and meet Coach’s eyes. He gives me a quick nod telling me to keep it up. Like I’d plan to do any differently.
The next eight minutes are both the slowest, the fastest, and the most painful eight minutes of my life as I take in every detail of the game. Watching every player’s footwork, their positions on the ice, and where they move while also keeping an eye locked on the puck.
Tank and I take charge of the game. The opposition has been wearing down since halfway through the last period, which gives us the perfect opportunity to show them who owns this ice. Tank and I give the audience a show, demonstrating just how we got dubbed the Dream Team, and pull the scores even further apart.
The final buzzer sounds, and I couldn’t be prouder of my boys. We’ve made it to the semi-finals. The Frozen Four in Chicago. The place where we’re going to annihilate any team that stands in our way of winning the championship.
The audience is once again up on their feet as we line up in the center of the ice to shake hands with the opposing team, all of them grunting at us in frustration and disappointment.
