The first ten minutes are spent heavily in the offensive zone. Not that I mind because it makes it easier for me, but when I skate over to the bench for the TV time-out, it’s clear Florida’s taunts are starting to weigh on them.
“Don’t let them get under your skin. That’s what they want. They’re trying to break you down and make you weak. You are not fucking weak. You got it?” Coach Harris tells us, and we all shout in agreement.
When they take their positions for the next face-off, it’s like we’ve had a surge of energy. Blaine is lightning fast as he dekes one of Florida’s wingers, and then he sends a saucer pass over to Peyton, who takes a shot and slips the puck into the top left corner, extending our lead 4-1.
The crowd goes wild, and I scream in celebration, throwing my arms in the air. They skate by the bench, then make their way over to me.
Fuck. We’re so close. We could really do this.
“That was a fucking beauty!” I shout to Peyton over the roar of the fans.
“Keep being big for me, Olsen.” He pats my chest. “Be fucking big!”
And I do. Florida ends up with a power play after Zach gets two minutes for hooking. I’m extending my legs and arms as far and fast as I can, throwing my body in the way of the puck to prevent it from making its way into the net.
When there are two minutes left on the clock, the energy in the arena intensifies. It’s electric. The fans’ excitement is palpable. I can feel it like a blanket over my skin.
Blaine lines up to take the face-off in the O-zone. He flicks it back to Jackson at the top of the circle, and my eyes widen as he makes a one-timer right off the draw.
And the puck flies into the net, lighting the lamp for the fifth time tonight.
“Fucking yeah!” I yell, a wide grin splitting my face.
I’m trembling with excitement as the clock counts down.
With a minute left, Florida pulls their goalie for an extra attacker, but it’s no use. I block every shot they take, sending the puck flying into the boards or controlling the rebound and passing on to the stick of a waiting teammate.
At the thirty-second mark, they give up. They don’t try to fight for the puck or challenge Blaine, who has possession behind me. My teammates on the bench are jumping and hugging each other, their wide grins visible from here. The roar of the fans is thunderous, and immediately, my eyes begin to burn with tears.
We did it. We dominated Florida.
We’re back-to-back champions.
When there are five seconds left on the clock, sticks and gloves and helmets are thrown into the air, covering the ice as my teammates clear the bench. I manage to drop my stick and helmet onto the ice and quickly flick off my glove and blocker before Blaine launches himself at me. The rest of my team collides into us, pushing us back until we’re a pile of bodies against the boards, jumping and screaming with tears rolling down our faces.
“We fucking did it!” Blaine cries, pressing his sweaty forehead against mine.
I’m so overcome with emotion, I can’t speak. My words are lodged thick in my throat. All I can do is nod, and I’m grinning so big my face aches.
The carpet comes out, and then we’re all cheering like hooligans when the Cup is carried out. Peyton is the first to lift it. His first championship as captain. Then I hoot and holler as Blaine makes a lap of the ice with it above his head, and when it’smy turn. I flick my gaze up to the box, where I know Hunter is. He’s been watching from the family box with Walt, Alex, Carter, and Hayden. Even Ethan and Jacob have come to support us. I can’t see him from here, but I know he’s watching. So with the Cup in my hands, I look up toward the box and lift it above my head.
We take photos, and when it’s time for the family to come out onto the ice, tears pool in my eyes the second I see Hunter. He helps Walt cross the ice to stand on the carpet, and then I skate over and launch myself at Hunter. He catches me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he says, kissing the side of my head. “So fucking proud.”
I cry into his shoulder, feeling every emotion running through me like a tidal wave. My hands are shaking when I return to my skates. Hunter takes my face in both hands and kisses me.
I’ve always wanted this. Someone to be there for me at the end of a game. To go home to and celebrate the wins, but also be there to support me during the losses. Hunter has been my rock. My safe landing. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I still can’t believe my luck that I get to call this man mine.
The man who loves me unconditionally.
The man who has so much patience and kindness.
The man who holds me when things feel too much.
The man who encourages me to not be afraid of being my authentic self.
The man who loves me for exactly who I am.
