Jefferson doesn’t hesitate. As soon as the puck touches his stick, he releases it. The puck soars right over the goalie’s shoulder on the short side of the net. The buzzer sounds and the red light flashes, signaling a goal.
“Let’s fucking go!”
We all converge on Jefferson who has his hands raised in the air. Hawks players are lying on the ice at his feet, but we ignore their existence and celebrate together right in front of their net.
As we follow Jefferson to the bench to knock gloves with our teammates, I see that only nine seconds ticked off the clock.
We still have enough time to fucking win this thing in regulation.
Lincoln signals for my line to stay on the ice, and Mack takes his place back in our net. He nods at me, letting me know he’s ready to go. I look over at Jefferson and then to my other winger and see they’re both dialed in. We’re going to fucking do this.
Slowly, I make my way to the faceoff dot. Winning this draw is huge. We have all the momentum and I need to do my part to keep it. If we get possession of the puck, we can drive down the ice and have a chance to win the game.
The ref raises his arm to drop the puck. As soon as he releases it, I swipe my stick under the Hawks player’s and turn my body to block him from the puck. I use my skate to kick the puck back to Connor and he takes off down the ice.
As soon as I disentangle myself from my opponent, I join the rush down the ice.
We battle against the Hawks in their zone, for what feels like forever. I pass the puck up to Connor at the blue line and glance at the clock to see there’s a minute left in the game. We’re nearing the end of our shift but I am too fucking amped up to make a line change.
Connor passes the puck down low to Jefferson in the corner. Jefferson fakes once and dekes out the Hawks defender, causing him to trip on his own skates. With the defender down, Jefferson drives as hard as he can with the puck to the front of the net. The goalie readies himself, skating to the top of the crease to cut off the angle.
Jefferson fires the puck at the same time I push off the defender in the slot. The shot hits the goalie’s far pad, bouncing off perfectly, creating the type of rebound us forwards dream of. It bounces right to my waiting stick. There’s no time to think. I just shoot.
The goalie dives across the crease with his glove raised high. I watch as the puck tips the top of his glove but my shot is too hard. The puck sails past and hits the back of the net.
Holy fuck. It went in.
I’m so fucking excited, I take a few strides away from the net and do the celly I used to do as a kid. In true Teemu Selanne fashion, I throw my glove in the air and pretend my stick is a gun and shoot my glove as it falls to the ice.
I’m sure I’ll receive a hefty fine for that celebration, but I don’t even care. It’s game seven of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Take my money. It was worth every penny.
My teammates attack me, nearly knocking me over. They’re all screaming in my face and pounding on my helmet as we celebrate the go-ahead goal.
What a fucking feeling. There’s nothing like it.
I’m eating my own words the minute I skate over to the bench to celebrate with the guys. Because standing behind the glass, just a couple rows up, is Sophia and Sadie. They wanted to sit closer to the action tonight, and I’m glad they did. Sophia is standing on her chair so she’s almost the same height as Sadie and they’re hugging each other, their bodies rocking back and forth with excitement.
The moment Sadie releases Sophia and turns back toward the ice, our eyes meet.
The smile on her face could light up the damn world. My eyes don’t leave her as I skate down the bench hitting gloves with my teammates. I stop at the end where the door is open so we can make a line change, eyes still locked on Sadie. She starts cheering again, yelling something unintelligible, and starts jumping up and down. She’s in a snug-fit Bobcats long-sleeved shirt and her tits bounce each time she jumps. That, with the radiant look on her face, is my undoing. I don’t think I’ve ever had to deal with a boner in my hockey gear, but there’s a first time for everything.
Sadie looks fucking gorgeous, and the fact that she’s cheering for me only amplifies the effect she has on me.
I finally force myself to turn back to the ice and glance up at the Jumbotron. Only nineteen seconds left in the game. Iknow the guys will want to go out and party to celebrate this win. As captain, I’m going to have to make an appearance. But even if it goes against all the rules we set in place, there’s only one person I want to celebrate with tonight.
And she’s sitting two rows up with my daughter.
We’ve been at the bar for a little over an hour and I’m ready to call an Uber. Call me a schmuck all you want, but popping champagne with a bunch of puck bunnies is not how I want to spend the rest of my night.
Connor looks just as bored as I do at the other end of the VIP section with his face in his phone. I weave my way through the crowd and lean against the wall next to him. He doesn’t even notice me, his eyes locked on his phone where a striking woman fills the screen. She has black hair with green eyes—a combination I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She’s so captivating, I can’t blame the guy for staring. It takes me a second to even realize she’s not alone in the photo. She’s leaning her head against some dude’s arm and he looks less than thrilled to be standing with her. He looks like a complete asshole. The complete opposite of the woman next to him.
“Who’s that?” I tilt my beer bottle toward his phone, and he immediately exits out of the social media app he was on.
“No one.”
Connor is a man of few words, but he doesn’t even look at me when he responds. Not wanting to push, especially after such a great win, I throw my beer back and finish what’s left.
I put my beer on the table next to me then grip Connor’s shoulder. “I’m taking off. You good?”
