“Perfect,” Charlotte whispers, looking down at her phone, and Anders shakes his head.
“Kulta, go call them. It’s fine.”
“I don’t want to be annoying.”
“You won’t be annoying them. It’s your first time away from the twins. It’s okay, better to call now and not have any nervous energy down the bond.”
Charlotte nods her head in agreement and goes to the back of the box to call Anders’ parents.
Sloane is taking pictures and videos for some app, and Anders looks out into the arena attentively.
The game is intense and close. I sit on the edge of my seat the entire game. Between the loud screaming and clapping of the last ten seconds, I’m feeling so much pride and exhilaration for the Foxes and what they’ve accomplished.
But then I’m clutching my chest, feeling a pain incomparable to anything I’ve ever felt in my life. The pain feels like it’s my body, but I know it's not. The pain belongs to the person who I have the deepest connection to—the person who owns part of my heart. There’s only one thing I can think about, and it’s getting to Owen as fast as I can. I look down at the ice, his helmet is off, and I watch as he falls face first into the ice.
Time ceases to exist, and I know I let out a pained scream before I’m on my feet and working my way down to him as the rest of the families are.
Just as fast as the pain starts, it stops completely, and my worst fear comes to life.
CHAPTER38
Ifeel good, better than good. The energy of the team and fans has me riled up. This is it, this is the game, this is everything. A game has never felt more exhilarating in my life. The tensions are high between us and the Sharks. Every now and then, I look across the ice to my brother. I swear he’s been looking back at me, and I can’t decide if I see the same resentment or pride.
Nilsen has a defenseman against the boards and scooping out the puck to pass to Martel. He doesn’t let up as Martel passes the puck to his packmate, who scores the first goal of the game.
The cheering throughout the arena is nearly deafening as we celebrate the goal and take the lead for the game. Our chances go up with each goal scored, and I know the team is hungry for it. My energy is up, and my focus is solely on not letting a single puck in this fucking net.
Defense is on fire tonight; most of my saves have been easy gloved pucks. But as the game goes on the more desperate, they want to force game seven and take the win, just as much as we want to take the Cup tonight.
The moves get dirty, and more often than not, some stupid shit is getting called. They’re trying to bait us into a fight and get a power play.
We hold strong, and eventually we break before the third period. When I skate off the ice, Johannson tosses me a bottle of Gatorade, and I catch it.
“Thanks, man.”
“You’re killing it out there,” he says with a head nod. I’m not sure what flipped, but it seems like once we entered the playoffs, Johannson realized I was the best goalie for the team, and he stopped being such a dick. Goalie practice has been cordial, and we’re more like a unit than enemies, it’s been nice. It’s more like what I had back with the Icemen. The backup goalie and I were close and cheered each other on. It’s nice that we’re ending the season on a high note and there's no longer this lingering tension between the two of us.
“Is there anything I should be working on?” I ask him, wanting an outside perspective. It’s one of the biggest perks to having a backup who can help you specifically with the position.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he says plainly.
I squirt the drink in my mouth and swish and swallow. This is it, the final countdown, the bookmark to an amazing season with the NHL.
Period three begins, and we’re still only winning the game by one single point. It’s a thin lead, and it’s a scary fucking lead. We have twenty minutes to advance our lead or at least hold on to the one that we have.
The game is paused for the stadium to announce our fifty/fifty raffle and to pan around to different attendees at the game. I don’t usually watch the screen, but something in me tells me to look up. When I do, I see my mom in a homemade jersey that is half the Sharks and half the Foxes. She’s dancing with a pretzel in one hand and a beer in another. My stepfather George smiles up at her lovingly, and the wonderment of the moment only gets more real. Win or lose, I achieved what I wanted to, my mom is proud of me, I’m fucking proud of me, and I know my pack is overjoyed for me.
I fucking did it.
The cameraman goes to someone else dancing, and I look away, getting my head back into the game. I can’t afford to get distracted now, not by anyone. I squirt my hair down with water and put my helmet back on as the game starts back up.
Eli and Alexi are passing the puck back and forth, trying to set up the shot. Eventually they find an opening, and Alexi slap shots the puck, shooting right past my brother and making this game two zero.
Alexi immediately skates my way, nearly knocking me over as we celebrate his goal. Nilsen, Eli, and Martel all come in for the dog pile to memorialize the next step toward our win. Once our teammates have dispersed, Alexi still has his arm around my shoulder, and we both look up at the box where Piper is.
She has a beaming smile on her face as she cheers for us. I feel her love and pride down the bond, and all it does is excite me more.
There are moments in your life that are core memories, the ones that follow you throughout the rest of your existence, and this is one of them. This accomplishment with the people I love next to me is everything.
