“What are you scared of?” he asks gently.
“What happens if things go wrong?”
“And what if they go right?” he says, and it makes me want to explode with glee. “I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Even if it takes me years?” I ask.
“Even then. Look how great six months have been. Can you imagine six years?” He hooks his fingers around my chin, kissing me. “I’d say sixty, but I’ll be dead by then.”
My laugh starts as a giggle. It turns into full-blown hysteria, and soon, Brody is laughing too. I don’t know how long we sit out there howling into the night, just that it’s right.
FORTY-FOUR
BRODY
H.E.
I am so excited for you, baby.
Game seven!!!
Me
I’ve been in a dozen of these throughout my career, but I’m nervous as hell about tonight.
Liv and Kali will be here, but they’re going back to her place after the game.
Come home with me?
H.E.
A win or a loss, I’ll be there.
I’ll find you in the tunnel after <3
Me
I’ll be waiting with open arms, sweetheart.
“Listen up,boys. It’s game seven. We have the advantage of being on home ice, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to let up on our aggression,” I say, addressing the locker room. “Our opponents have been coming out hot every single night, and we’ve consistently found ourselves down in the first period. I need sharper passes tonight. I need cleaner shots on goal. I need you to trust each other and know this group of guys has what it takes to go all the way.” There’s a murmur of agreement, and I nod. “Three minutes until we’re going out there and proving every single person who has ever doubted us wrong. We’re leaving it all out there, okay? Empty tanks, full fucking hearts. A win takes us to the next round. A loss sends us on a four-month vacation. How this plays out is entirely up to you.”
“Hands in,” Maverick yells, popping to his feet. His eyes meet mine, and I wonder if this will be the last time he’s going to lead the team in a huddle. If tomorrow he’s going to hang up his jersey and call it quits, going out bruised and defeated, but moving on to more important things. “Family on three. One. Two. Three.”
“Family,” everyone yells, and Grant jumps up and down. Ethan hits his stick against the wall and Liam yanks down his goalie mask, mumbling under his breath.
I feel the energy in the air too. It’s clawing at me, and I bump their fists as they file out into the tunnel, giving each player a final piece of encouragement that I hope will motivate them for the next sixty minutes.
When the locker room empties out, I take a deep breath. I savor the quiet, the still calm that always happens right before pandemonium breaks loose. It’s hard to believe this might be itfor our season after how far we’ve gotten in the past, and when Parker and Mikal welcome me out to the hallway, I give them both a look.
“Ready?” I ask them, and they both grin.
“Wouldn’t want to go to battle with anyone else,” Parker says.
“It’s been an honor.” Mikal laughs. “This feels more intense than we played in the Stanley Cup game sevens. Different atmosphere. Different stakes.”
“Because it might be the last time we see this lineup out there,” I say. We make our way to the bench and the roaring crowd. I keep my focus on the ice instead of searching the crowd for Hannah. I can’t see her, but I canfeelher. She’s somewhere up there, screaming as loud as she can. “Let’s go out with a bang.”
The first two periods are the most intense we’ve played all season, and I can barely track the puck with how fast the game is moving. It’s impossible to yell out calls over the noise from the fans. The Atlanta Yellowjackets give up nothing, matching our aggressiveness from the very start.
