Fuck.
Their center sets up in the slot. I'm battling the fucker, trying to clear him out while Zach pressures the winger. The puck comes out the other side to their defenseman at the point.
Jenkins tries to block the shooting lane, but the puck gets through.
Viktor makes the save but gives up a fucking rebound.
Shit.
Western Michigan’s winger gains possession and passes cross ice. Ryan intercepts the puck and then takes off. He hits the blue line at full speed. Their left defenseman tries to angle him off, but Ryan chips it between the guy's legs and burns around him.
Holy fuck.
My husband’s on a breakaway.
I skate hard to catch up, but I can't take my eyes off him. The way he shifts his weight and sells the shot to the glove side. Their goalie bites, dropping into the butterfly.
Ryan pulls it to his backhand and roofs it.
The red light. The horn.
And the buzzer.
We’re going into overtime.
Ryan's skating around behind their net, and I catch up to him, slamming into his side. “Fucking beautiful, baby.”
He stumbles but laughs. “We're not done yet. Going to make sure you win your last game.”
I bump him with my shoulder. “Bet I score the winning goal.”
“Yeah? What do I get if I win it for us?”
Oh, this motherfucker.
Jenkins crashes into us from behind. “Save the foreplay for later, assholes!”
Nieminen is glaring at us from the bench. “Move your goddamn asses! You didn’t win shit yet!”
Ryan chuckles, then looks cross ice and waves. Larry’s there, smiling wide, giving him a thumbs up, then he nods at me. About time he starts accepting I’m not going anywhere.
“Your foster dad better get it through his thick fucking head that I’m not sleeping in the guest room this summer.”
Ryan rolls his eyes. “He’s coming around. Give him time.”
“What-fucking-ever.”
“You know he’s proud you’re starting law school in the fall. So am I.”
I grunt as I step off the ice and make my way toward the locker room. Still fucking weird hearing people say they’re proud of me, of them supporting my decisions for my own damn life. Even when it meant not going to the NHL but starting law school at NYU instead.
The locker room's tense. We’re all trying to catch our breaths, to keep our heads in the game. Nieminen gives us one of hismotivationalspeeches. But we all know the next goal will either bring us victory or send us home empty-handed.
Ten minutes later, we're back on the ice. Time to finish this fucking thing, to take home the trophy one more time.
Overtime’s brutal. Just constant back and forth. Western Michigan nearly scores twice. We return the favor.
But the puck refuses to go into the net.
