The rest of the first period is a blur. I'm everywhere—winning face-offs, setting up plays, and ready to take on anyone. By the time the buzzer sounds for intermission, we're up 2-0 and both goals are mine.
As we file toward the tunnel, I spot my dad near the boards.
He's here?
I figured he might come since he always likes to come to games when he can, but his visits vastly reduced when the Crushers got their own TV rights deal.
Amelia and my mom aren’t here, either. It’s just my dad, standing alone, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
In the locker room, Coach runs through adjustments for the second period, but I'm only half-listening. My mind keeps drifting back to Laura's face during the anthem, the way her voice filled every corner of this building, the way five thousand strangers fell in love with her in the span of ninety seconds.
The way she told me she was in love with me.
“Hendricks!” Coach's voice snaps me back. “You with us?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
“Don't be sorry. Just keep doing whatever you're doing out there. Best I've seen you play all season.”
The second period is more of the same. I'm in the zone, anticipating plays before they happen, finding spaces that shouldn't exist. I set up Erik for a goal, then score another myself on a breakaway that has the crowd on their feet again.
Every time I glance at the stands, Laura's watching. Every time our eyes meet, something passes between us—something bigger than hockey or singing or any of this.
By the third period, we're up 4 -1 and I score one more for good measure. A hat trick plus two assists. Five points in a single game.
My best performance ever.
When the final buzzer sounds, the arena erupts again, and this time it's for us. For the win, but I know a lot of them are still thinking about Laura's anthem, still buzzing from what they witnessed.
As I shake hands with the Brighton U players, I see my dad waiting near the tunnel.
“Hendricks! Great game, man!” several of the opposing players say as we file past each other.
In the locker room, the guys are celebrating.
“Five points!” Alex shouts, slapping my shoulder pad. “Five fucking points!”
“That's what having a talented girlfriend does to you,” Erik says with a knowing grin. “Maybe we all need to date singers.”
“You’d have to find a girl who could tolerate you first,” Brooks points out, and everyone laughs.
“Your dad's waiting outside,” Coach McKibbon says, appearing beside me.
“Outside?” That’s weird. He’ll usually walk straight into the locker room and talk with everyone.
“Yeah. He said he wanted to talk to you before you shower,” Coach says.
I nod and grab a towel, heading out to the hallway still in my full gear minus my helmet.
My dad's leaning against the wall, and when he sees me, his face lights up with that genuine pride that used to make me feel suffocated but now just makes me feel… seen.
“Scotty.” He pulls me into a hug, not caring about the sweat and smell. “That was incredible. Five points in one game?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“As fantastic as your performance was out there—” He pulls back, studying my face. “—there’s something else I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh, yeah?”
