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My heart raced as he connected with the puck, seamlessly passing it to Carter, who was poised at the net.
It was a risky move, sending the puck all the way back to our goalie. The other team’s offense skated down hard, and Sebastian flew across the ice to meet one of them, blocking them from Carter.
Even from here, I could almost feel the tension in Carter’s muscles, the intent that radiated from him. My hands clenched in silent support.
Carter skated forward out of the net as the other players bore down on him. Sebastian skated into one at full power, taking him out before he could get in Carter’s way.
Carter slammed the puck down the ice.
And despite its speed, Jack picked it up easily, skating around an opponent, moving so impossibly fast. He passed it to another player in front of their net. His decision making was so quick and determined. The other player took a shot, lost it to the goalie.
Jack clapped the other player’s shoulder as if to comfort him, then skated off with that same easy grace.
Even though they played well with the whole team, there was something about the three of them on the ice that was special.
Their cooperation was a thing of beauty, and it kept drawing my gaze. When an opponent aimed a sly elbow at Sebastian, Jack was there in a heartbeat, a protective wall of fury. Sebastian watched over Carter, falling back and playing the game safer than I thought he wanted to, judging from his body language.
Then it struck me.
Once again… I wasn’t just engaged in the game.
I understood it.
When did I learn the rules of hockey?
I’d been lost in the game because I actually understood and—oh, no. I was about to be late getting back from my break. I had lost track of time. I’d been so focused on the players.
On thosethreeplayers.
I stood up to scramble to the door. But as if I were some kind of good luck charm, when I stopped at the double doors leading out, I turned back to see one of the opposing team skating down the ice toward Carter. I slid into an empty seat near the doors, watching as Jack flew along the ice, trying to outpace them, but hanging back ready for someone to pass him the puck. Sebastian surged forward to meet one of the players.
But they were throwing the entire team forward against the defense.
They were setting up a shot, but there was no chance they could make it past Carter.
I leaned forward, my hands knitting into fists.
Because I could already tell one of them was heading straight for the goalie. But that was against the rules.
They slammed into Carter as one player passed the puck to another, who was skating up on the corner of the net. The second player slammed the puck home.
It was a major penalty.
But I wasn’t sure that mattered when Carter was going down on the ice. He slammed onto his back.
I held my breath.
He didn’t get up, his stick a few feet away where it had fallen when he went down. The crowd around me murmured. Some of the opposing team cheered.
I was on my feet. I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten there, and I sat down, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment that warmed my cheeks.
Sebastian and Jack were already throwing helmets, ready for a fight. But while Sebastian did start throwing punches, Jack skated to Carter. Carter’s face was etched with pain, but he shook his head at Jack, who helped him up to his feet.
I caught the look of frustration and worry written across Jack’s face.
Carter said something that might’ve beengo kick their assjudging from the way Jack turned and slammed into one of the players involved in that play.
The thought that Carter was hurt pulled at my heart, and I froze, feeling as if I couldn’t leave now. I didn’t know if he was going to be alright.
