The lamp lights. The goal horn blasts through the arena.
Every Icehawk out there freezes in disbelief for a split second before descending upon Dash. I’m one of the first to reach him as pandemonium breaks out. I grab him in a bear hug. The entire bench empties and swarms around us.
It’s fitting that Dash scored the winning goal. He’s been a staunch believer in this team from the beginning.
I’m thrilled for him. I shove my way through the throng toward a grinning Roman. He pushes his goalie mask back on his head and skates toward me. We engage in a bro hug before I move aside for the next guy to congratulate him on a great game. The team moves to center ice. Holding our sticks in the air, we circle and salute the crowd who’ve been with us through thick and thin. They’ve been our ride-or-die.
And tonight, we’re riding right into the playoffs.
I soak up the jubilation and seek out every teammate to congratulate them. Dash comes toward me, wearing a broad grin.
“Hey, great timing to get that monkey off your back. They gave you an assist on my goal.”
I hadn’t thought about that. It’d been the furthest thing from my mind, and getting a point tonight is just the cherry on top of a hot fudge sundae. I don’t care about personal rewards as long as I contribute and the team wins.
I played pretty well tonight. From the second I noticed Aria sitting on the glass with Gardenia, I was driven to show her that she’s wrong. I’ve still got it. Those two games where I was benched were a wake-up call.
Maybe I didn’t completely show Aria and my doubters tonight, but she’s got to be eating some of her harsh words when it comes to me.
I glance toward her seat. She’s standing like everyone else, clapping and cheering. The blond kid next to her wearing my jersey number has to be Aria’s nephew. The poor boy, I feel for him having an aunt like her. I recall the boy was in that group I spoke with at the rink several days ago. Odd that she’s letting him wear my number, or maybe it’s a way to get under my skin. I wouldn’t put anything past that woman. She always has a self-serving ulterior motive.
Kirby skates up to me and slaps me on the back so hard, he almost sends me sprawling, but I manage to keep my skates under me.
“Good assist.” He’s smiling ear to ear, and I beam with satisfaction.
“You played a knockout game. No one could get near the net when you were out there.”
“That’s my job.” He winks, starts to skate off, then catches sight of Aria in the stands. He frowns, and his brow furrows. “Who’s the kid with Aria?”
“Her nephew. I guess she has custody. His mom died.”
Kirby’s attention swings to me. “You know an awful lot about her personal life.”
“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
“Wise words.” Kirby’s gaze is drawn back to the boy. He narrows his eyes, studying the kid closely. “There’s something about him…” His voice trails off, and he turns away, puzzled. I glance in the nephew’s direction again, wondering what he sees, because I don’t see it. Maybe surprise that he’s wearing my jersey when Aria and I have been at each other’s throats for two seasons.
Finally, we head for the locker room. I’m back to my old form, and as I enter, I shout, “Let’s party!” I’ve been the team DJ for our entire existence until my recent slump. Tonight, I’m back. I crank the music so loud, the walls vibrate.
I take a long shower, dry off, and dress. I’m ready to party. I stride back into the locker room where several teammates are still hanging out.
“Where’s the party?” I shout to be heard over the joyous din.
“We’re going to pizza with the kids. Wanna come?” Jakob asks.
“I’m going, too, with Addison and Leo,” adds Wild. He’s referring to his wife, who also happens to be the VP of marketing for the Icehawks, and his son.
I hesitate. If I go with these guys, it’ll be a family-friendly place and most likely dull as hell. No women to pick up or buddies to get shit-faced with.
“The entire leadership team is going. You’re in, aren’t you?” Dash comes up beside me and gives me one of those looks that insinuate I don’t have a choice.
“I guess I am.”
“Where’s the party?” Lucas Sutton, who isn’t old enough to legally drink, drapes an arm over my shoulder and Dash’s.
Coach whistles to get our attention. “Mr. Barlowe has rented the Pizza Zone for tonight. We have the entire place to ourselves. His treat. I expect to see every one of you there.”
A couple of the younger guys grumble, but that’s the only negative response I hear. I guess the whole team is going to family night after all.
