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Walsh passes to Ryder; Ryder sends the puck up the rink to me. I deke past a Portland defender; knowing that the open shot on goal I have right now will only last a fraction of a second, I take it—and the puck connects with the back of the net.
Portland has twenty seconds to work with after the ref sets the puck again, but it’s not enough. The game ends 5-4.
“We’re the fucking champions!” Tristan jumps on my back in celebration.
Then, Grant skates up and wraps his giant arms around me, hoisting both me and Tristan who’s still on my back into the air as the whole team joins us on the ice to celebrate.
Over the cheering and jubilation, I look up to the stands, and my eyes lock with Zoey’s.
* * *
Once we’re showeredand dressed, the guys and I walk out of the locker room, into a shower of applause from the people who came to support us.
Zoey rushes towards me and leaps into my arms. I catch her gladly, and no sooner is she in my arms with her legs wrapped around me, than I press a deep kiss onto her lips. I swear, it feels even better than scoring that winning goal.
The rest of the guys currently in relationships are holding their girls, too. Candance is here for Ryder; Brooke for Cole; Kennedy for Tristan; and Abby for Grant.
Blaze, our former teammate who’s now a starting player in the NHL, FaceTimed us while we were in the locker room to congratulate us; and once we were all dressed, his girlfriend Kay even hopped on the call to say hi.
To think that just two years ago, every one of us was single.
I let Zoey down when Coach walks up. Things were a little awkward between us for a while, but I’ve worked hard to prove to him that I just want the same thing he wants: the best for his daughter.
At this point, he recognizes that; but he’s still been known to throw a cutting glare my way when he catches me and Zoey engaged in PDA, so we try to keep it to a minimum around him.
I feel a hand clasp my shoulder. “Hell of a game, son.”
I turn to see my dad, beaming at me with genuine pride in his eyes. “Thanks, dad,” I say.
A couple weeks after I stood up to him for the first time, we had a long heart-to-heart. I made him understand how I’ve felt about his style of backseat coaching, the effect it’s had on me emotionally and psychologically.
To his credit, my dad actually listened, and did some reflecting. He’s been working on himself to be a better father. I appreciate the effort, and the fact that it shows he cares.
Back at our hotel, we hit up the bar for some celebratory drinks. It’s already full of traveling fans when we arrive, and we’re greeting with another roar of cheers. It goes without saying that we don’t have to pay for a single drink tonight.
Our first toast is to the crop of soon to be departing seniors, the guys who got us this far: Grant, Tristan, Cole, and Ryder.
“It’ll be up to you guys to carry on the Hot Shots legacy,” Tristan says, nodding towards me, Hunter, and Walsh.
“There’ll have to be some new blood coming in, too,” Ryder says. “No doubt Coach is gonna try to snag some top players from other schools.”
No doubt there will be some new faces on the starting line next year. Maybe some superstar rookies coming out of high school, maybe some second liners already on the team taking the opportunity to step up, maybe some guys transferring from other schools. Time will tell.
When Walsh gets back from the bar with another drink, Hunter pats his lap. “Sit here instead of in your chair, Walsh, I’m tiring of being left out in this group of lovebirds.”
Walsh chuckles, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure there are plenty of girls or guys in this place willing to take you up on that offer, Hunter, but I’ll pass.”
“I can’t believe I’m not gonna be here next year to watch Hunter be the next one to fall in love,” Cole sighs.
“Me? Fall in love? Yeah, right,” Hunter says, dismissively.
“Don’t worry, Cole,” I say. “I’ll keep you up to date.”
“We all know he’s gonna be the next one to fall sooner than later,” Grant chimes in.
“Not happening,” Hunter says, casually, before lifting his drink up to his lips.
After some more time hanging out, Zoey leans over and whispers into my ear, “Ready to do somerealcelebrating yet?”
