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I smile. He has my back, the same one he has had ever since joining the team our first year in high school. Mom and Dad’s absence won’t change the way I play. Nope. I never let their lack of interest interfere with the game.
But they’re not the only ones I wanted to show.
I bite back the anger that threatens to build. Our next stretch of games is away. As much as I’d hoped my parents showed and pretended to care about my interests, I expected her to be here. I paid her, for fuck’s sake.
The money isn’t what’s making me upset, though. That was just my way of helping her out. But I really thought she’d show.
Take it to the ice, Morton.
Tonight’s win is a must. It’s the first time playing an original D1 team, and we’re out to prove we belong amongst them. The need for a win became a must after the shit talk their D-man spewed to the press last week.
“We’ve got this,” I finally say as we line up for the face-off.
“Damn, straight,” Ryan says as he gets into position.
I scan the crowd one last time in a desperate attempt to conjure her presence. But she isn’t there. Pushing aside the weird feeling clawing up my back, I concentrate on the game and wait for the puck to drop.
“We’re sending you packing back to where you came from. You don’t belong here,” Colorado’s center taunts. If he’s trying to get a rise out of me, he’ll have to do better than that. I’ve been told I don’t belong on the ice for years.
“We’ll see who leaves here in tears,” I say. Fucker knows our record.
He sneers right as the puck hits the ice. With a swift move, my blade connects with the puck, sending it skidding across the ice toward Andrew, positioned on the left wing. Instinct takes over. Every pass, every feint, every collision—it all burns away the weight until nothing exists except the game, the thrill of the chase, and the relentless drive to score.
Drew reacts quickly, smoothly receiving the pass and darting forward with the puck. The Colorado’s defensemen try to close in, but Drew’s agility and speed are unmatched. He zigzags through the opposition, skillfully evading their attempts to steal the puck.
I follow Drew’s lead, rushing toward the opposing team’s net. Adrenaline surges, my heart pounding against my ribs like it wants to join the crowd’s frenzy.
“Go, go, go!” The shouts from the bench mix with the cacophony around us as Drew charges toward the goal.
“Wildcats! Wildcats!” The chant becomes a mantra, fueling me as I position myself perfectly.
With a flick of his wrist, Drew sent a precise pass across the ice toward me. Time slows as the puck sails through the air, heading straight for my waiting stick. I can hear the collective gasps of the crowd as my heart pounds.
This is it.
I make contact with the puck, redirecting it with a deft touch. The goaltender, caught off guard by the lightning-fast play, makes a desperate dive to stop the incoming shot, but it is too late. The puck finds its mark, slipping between the goalie’s legs and into the back of the net.
“Goal!”
The eruption from the crowd as the scoreboard lights up is a tidal wave sweeping me up. This is why I play. For this moment, this feeling—this unstoppable, undeniable victory that belongs to us all.
“Way to go, Morton!” My teammates swarm me, clapping backs and shaking heads.
“Nice assist,” I pat Drew on the shoulder and address the guys. “But it’s not over yet. Let’s kick more ass. Show them we belong.”
We continue clawing our way to a two-to-one lead when the blare of the horn signals the end of the first period. Having the lead, I should be ecstatic, yet my chest tightens with a pang of disappointment. I glide over to the bench, water bottle in hand, and steal a glance at the stands. My breath fogs up the visor as I search for the familiar faces that are never there.
Mom, Dad, can’t you see this is more than just a game to me?
“Nice hustle out there, Morton!” I nod at the voice, muscles tensing for the next shift, but my mind’s elsewhere, skimming over the crowd.
My breath catches when I spot a sexy brunette wearing a familiar jersey.
She’s here. She actually came.
And she not only came but also wore the shirt I bought at the bookstore. The jersey I told her to keep.
Fuck, I love seeing that.
