“Chrissake!” Logan yells, spinning around and tearing up behind Callaghan.
Mason sprints up the left side, and all I can do is watch, held back by the Boston winger, trying to break out of the corner, watching as Callaghan threads a no-look feed straight into the crease. I break free from the corner just in time, but Dallas reads the shot and stops it with his blade, but Boston’s center is there for the rebound, catching it in his stride, and without hesitation, he loads a quick-release snap shot. I dive, stretching my body and my stick across the ice, but the puck sails past my blade, grazing Dallas’s glove and hits the far side of the net with a hollow, devastatingslap.
For a beat, Madison Square Garden falls deathly silent.
But then the siren rings, and the Boston players celebrate their goal, gloves, sticks, and helmets tossed as a rush of red, green, and navy piles in front of the net.
I fall to my knees, dropping my head between my shoulders, the weight of the loss and the sudden end to our season looming heavily as I think of everything I could’ve done, everything I should’ve done differently during the last few minutes.
Forcing myself up, I skate over to tap Dallas before joining my teammates and lining up to shake hands with Boston, when suddenly something happens, something I don’t think any of us were expecting.
Instead of filing out of the arena disappointed, the home crowd is on their feet, and they’re chanting, clapping their hands, humming the tune to our theme song, “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC.
“Thunder!”
“Thunder!”
“Thunder!”
The guys and I gather around, looking up into the crowd of black and silver, enamored by the scene that’s playing out high up into the nosebleeds, every single Thunder fan cheering us despite our loss.
“If they can be happy for us, I guess we can’t be too hard on ourselves, guys,” Rusty says, slapping a few of us on our backs.
“Let’s do a lap,” Robbie says, waving everyone with him.
And we follow, removing our helmets and our gloves, circling the rink and clapping with the crowd. I stop by the glass where a group of young fans stand, cheering us on, and I hand my stick over to one of the boys, feeling my spirits rise when I see his face light up like all his Christmases just came at once.
And, sure, we may not have won, and we may have just ended our season, but this is exactly what Coach was talking about back in the locker rooms. We earned our place here tonight, and it might not have ended the way we’d hoped, but we’re still here, we still made it, and that’s worth celebrating in and of itself. No one can take this away from us.
“Daddy!”
I turn at the sound of the familiar voice, my eyes blowing out at the sight of Hannah treading the ice carefully, Lucky holding her hand as she skids unsteadily, followed by all the other players’ wives and girlfriends and kids.
“Lucky Duck!” I beam, skating toward her and collecting her in my arms, holding her way up high.
“I’m sorry you didn’t win, Daddy,” Lucky says with a sad smile.
“Thanks, baby girl, but it’s okay,” I tell her, and I mean it. Because it is okay.
I reach out my arm and wrap it around Hannah’s waist, bringing her into my side.
“I’m so proud of you.” Hannah smiles up at me. “Next year.”
“Next year.” I nod, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips as the arena continues to erupt with cheers all around us.
Instead of heading out to a bar to join the guys while they drowntheir sorrows and talk about the loss all night, I decided to go home with my two favorite girls.
We changed into our pajamas and planned on settling in to watch a movie. But Lucky turned on the pleading face and asked if we could do s’mores in her secret garden instead, and who am I say no to a face like hers?
After over-indulging on probably a few too many chocolatey, gooey marshmallow treats, Lucky is curled up on the picnic rug, passed out next to Toast Malone as he snores loudly, basking in the warmth of the gas fire.
I relax back on my elbow watching Hannah, taken aback by her beauty as she gazes up at the blanket of stars, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights strung above. And here, on the roof, in Lucky’s secret garden, with my baby girl safe and sound, sleeping peacefully on one side, the love of my life curled up on my other, I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever felt this whole. I’ve never felt that completeness, like this is exactly where I’m meant to be. And it’s a weird feeling, one I never thought I’d experience, but it’s kind of everything.
“Move in here with us,” I say, surprising myself with my words.
Hannah turns her face toward me, a small crease of confusion burrowing between her eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Move in, with me and Lucky. Live here with us.”
