I rush to guard Rusty and the puck, and over the roar of the crowd and the blood hammering loudly in my ears, I hear Dallas bark, “Time! Watch the fucking time!”
Narrowly avoiding a check against the boards, I follow behind Rusty, protecting the play as he rounds the back of the net. A Jersey forward tears up the ice directly toward Rusty, and he dishes the puck to me. I skate back around the net, stupidly forcing a pass through the middle which is, again, intercepted.
“Fuck!” I yell to myself, pushing back down the ice.
The power play is over and we’re back to five-on-five, the play brutal enough before they pull their fucking goalie.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter under my breath as Jersey sends another forward over the boards.
New Jersey regroups and comes charging again. I gap up at the blue line, skating backward, my stick extended as I try to read their play. When the center tries to toe-drag around me, I angle my body and attempt a steal, shocking myself when I manage to poke the puck free, muscling him off it.
I chip the puck up the wall and chase it, sending it down the length of the ice, hoping for the best because YOLO. I watch on as the puck threads between two unsuspecting players, sailing all the way before it nestles into the empty net, causing the lamp to light up.
The arena erupts, and before I can even process what just happened, I’m mobbed by my teammates, tapping my helmet, almost taking me down to the ice. I manage to get a look at the time. Less than eighteen seconds left.
Robbie grabs me, pushing his helmet up against mine and yelling directly into my face, “You just fucking sealed it, Hap!”
Despite winning our final game for the regular season, the mood is low after the news that not only will Alex Henry not make the playoffs, but that his playing career is almost certainly over. He received a nasty concussion and a fracture to his C4 vertebrae from the impact of his fall. He’s lucky to be alive. But sadly, his playing days are likely over.
I was invited to post-game press again with Coach Draper, but when the questions were centered more around Alex, something I have no business commenting on, Coach was quick to end the interview early, and I thanked the journalists as we exited the room together.
“You did good in there, son.” Coach slaps me on my back as we walk together down the hallways. “Kept it professional, guided the questioning, didn’t let them corner you. Well done.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I tuck my hands in the corner of my shorts, and we continue in relative silence along the corridor. But then, just as we turn the corner and begin heading toward the locker room, I spot my family up ahead talking with Fran, Millie, and Emily, along with some of the other players’ friends and family.
“Hey, Coach?”
Coach Draper glances up from where he’s looking at something on his phone. “What is it, Slater?”
“You know how you said I needed to stop flirting with the girls up in the stands?” I bite back a smile.
Coach deadpans.
“Wanna meet the girl I was flirting with?”
His brows knit together, but before he can say anything, I continue straight ahead, catching Lucky’s eyes. Her face lights up with a smile, and she pushes past my dad and runs toward me, her blonde curls bouncing with every step, the bedazzled number nineteen jersey she wears glittering beneath the fluorescent lights.
From my periphery, I see Coach pause mid-step, clearly confused.
“Daddy!” Lucky cries, crashing into me, her little arms wrapping around my waist and holding me so tight.
I crouch down and pick her up, squeezing her right back. “Hey, Lucky girl.”
“I missed you!” she exclaims.
“I missed you too, baby,” I whisper, my gaze flitting to Coach Draper to see the look on his face the definition of befuddled.
Lucky pulls back, smiling widely at me. “Good goal, Daddy!”
“Aw, thanks, Luck.”
Clearing my throat, I turn to Coach, swallowing my nerves as best as I can. “Coach, this is Lucky, my… daughter.”
Coach Draper’s mouth hangs open as he looks from me to Lucky and back again. And in time playing for him, I have never once seen this man speechless. It’s almost creepy.
I look at Lucky with a smile. “Lucky, this is Daddy’s coach. Coach Draper.”
“Hi, Coach.”
