The puck drops, and I win it clean, snapping it back to our defenseman. I position myself near the blue line, watching the play develop. Their forward makes a sloppy pass that Alex intercepts, and suddenly we're on a three-on-two breakaway.
I'm flying down the left wing, my stick ready. Alex has the puck in the center, Erik on the right. The two St. Michael's defenders are scrambling, trying to cover all three of us, but we’re too quick.
Alex fakes left, drawing both defenders toward him, then dishes it across to Erik, but Erik doesn't take the shot—he sends it right back to me, a perfect tape-to-tape pass that lands on my blade.
Empty net. Wide open.
I pull my stick back and—
A St. Michael's defender comes out of nowhere, hooking my stick just as I release. The puck goes wide, sliding harmlessly past the empty net and around the boards.
“Fuck!” The word explodes out of me as the ref's arm shoots up.
It’s a power play.
I skate to the bench, my jaw clenched. Coach nods at me as I step off.
The second line takes over, and I drop onto the bench beside Alex, watching as they set up in the offensive zone. My leg starts bouncing again, but this time it's different. Not anticipation. Just… restlessness.
Amelia catches my eye from the stands again, giving me a thumbs-up. I force a smile, too tense to think about anything other than this game. We might be leading, but things can change so quickly.
Two minutes left. Our guys are running down the clock, keeping possession, making St. Michael's chase us.
When the final buzzer sounds, the bench erupts. 4-1. Another win. Another three points for me.
I get back onto the ice and shake hands with the opposing team.
“Good game, Hendricks,” Nick says with a wide grin. I swear that dude could be having the worst day of his life and he’d still smile through it.
“Thanks.”
Right before I skate off the ice, I glance back to Amelia and mouth “meet me outside the locker room.”
She nods, offering me a thumbs-up as I head off the ice.
I'm halfway through unlacing my skates when the locker room door swings open.
Bang!
“Big bro!”
Amelia’s voice echoes through the room, making everyone stop. At least she’s loud enough to announce it so everyone can cover themselves.
She appears in the doorway, her arms thrown open as she makes a beeline toward me. I get to my feet, opening my own arms to catch her in a hug.
That’s when I spot Dan the cameraman trailing right behind her. That means Jerry can’t be far behind. My smile drops. Should've known our dad would get her to film her campus tour. I’m surprised Coach McKibbon allowed them down here. Surely, this affects the TV rights deal withChally Sports.Although, I guess this is the locker room and not technically the ice.
I guess one thing that came out of my father’s constant presence here last year: it got the Crushers noticed, and after we made our first real run at a National Championship, the broadcasters were interested. That gave me the opportunity to finally be anonymous. To be a team player for the Crushers instead of my dad’s.
“Ames, you were supposed to meet me outside,” I say with a pointed glare. Thankfully, most of my teammates are currently in the shower and not here, but still.
“I know, I know!” She pulls back, still beaming. “But I wanted to surprise you! That was such an amazing game, Scotty. Three goals! You were incredible out there.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, glancing at Dan the cameraman who's walking behind her, albeit with the camera down. I’m guessing he’s been told he’s not allowed to film in here, but has been forced to escort Amelia because I won’t even look at Jerry these days. “You’re not filming, right? Coach McKibbon—”
“Oh, relax. The camera's off.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Dad wants some B-roll for the campus tour segment, which we'll film tomorrow morning. No filming in or around the arena and definitely no filming of you unless you’ve consented,” she sasses back.
After the birthday incident, I had to be honest with my father about the cameras. I didn’t go into detail; I just told him that I wanted to have more privacy while at college, which seemed to work. It was an agreement that I’d still film, but only on my terms.