He dug in, with Carol sweeping ahead of him, making sure the path was clear.
“There!” I shouted. “That’s it! Clean!” It was on the right trajectory now. It had to keep its momentum. “Clean!”
They both broomed hard enough I could hear them grunting over the mics, their heavy breathing loud in my earpiece.
“Steady. Off! It’s there! Get off!”
The hardclack-crackof the stone hitting their shot rock echoed down the ice. Alan was on their rock in an instant, brooming it on its way clear out of the house.
Ours hit and stuck, in a line with our guard, no room for them to slip past the first guard on the inside to take it out, too deep to curl around the guard, and no one on their team as good as I was at the outside shot I’d taken.
The stands erupted with loud cheers, and I still would have sworn I could hear Evan and Jacob and Shaw over the rest, booming out their enthusiastic approval.
As I slid to the edge of the ice to clear the way for the opposing team, the Vice-skip from Pickering nodded to me. “Excellent shot,” he said. “Really well done.”
I blinked at him. “Thanks?”
He chuckled and it sounded a bit sad. “You know that was an amazing shot. We all do. For what it’s worth, and I’m not going to throw the game or anything, but I hope you guys win. We could do a lot worse for representation in Milano than you guys. True class.”
“I—” I gulped. “Thank you.” I paused, then turned around. “And do not throw the game.”
His chuckle held genuine amusement. “Obviously.”
I grinned. “Obviously.” I waved down the ice. “Do your worst.”
His worst was to replace my stone with his, but not as cleanly. He took out one of his own in the process and curled too far, leaving what had been our guard rock as the shot rock.
My next shot was an easy call. Guard our shot rock.
After that, it was a done deal. There was little they could do to keep us off the button, and Alan’s last stone glided neatly over the tiny metal disc and spun to a stop.
We ended the game seven points to two. Our road to the Olympics was clear. We were going to Milano Cortina in less than three months.
CHAPTER 32
EVAN
“How is your head?”Alan’s fingers dug deep but gently into my hair as soon as I joined them after the game to celebrate. He was clearly looking for a bump.
“Fine,” I assured him.
His hand remained where it was.
“Really. I’m good. My landing hurt my ass and my pride more than my head. It was a formality.” Careful so I didn’t offend him, I pulled my head away but met his gaze. “I promise. I’m okay.”
The deep breath he pulled in shook slightly when he let it out again but he nodded. “I was… that was scary.”
Unable to help myself, I kissed his cheek. “We’re going to the Olympics,” I whispered in his ear. “Be happy.”
He pulled me into a tight hug. “I am. I’m happy you’re not hurt, precious.”
I had to allow his embrace. Not like I was getting out of it, and it seemed he needed it. Which was pleasantly reassuring to me.
I leaned into him and soaked up his worry, hoping I could replace it with comfort, now that he had eyes and hands on me to know I was fine.
“Break it up, you two,” Michael said a few minutes later, even though he had his arm over Carol’s shoulders. “Here come the mics and cameras.” He jerked his chin towards where the sports networks were lining up for their interviews.
“I hate this part,” Perry said.
