When I saw Kaz’s father and his ex-wife dominating the attention on the red carpet not only for their presence, but also for their in your face outfits—her in a lime green bandeau top and micro skirt, and gold thigh-high boots, and him in a bright pink suit—my gut twisted in a knot. Several minutes later, I caught Oskar flirting hard with a gorgeous model-tall brunette until her beefy boyfriend came to stand by her side. Devlyn and Oskar aren’t seeing each other. They’re master manipulators, willing to bend reality to their benefit.
Attention seeking idiots.
I’m done playing her stupid game.
The crowd chants and claps twice. “Let’s go, Enforcers. Let’s go!”
A shrieking whistling pierces the air. “Show ‘em who’s the beast on the ice, Kaz.”
I turn around. A standing Hoppy Joe is shaking a fist. I shake mine in solidarity.
“The boss is playing like a champ,” he says.
I respond with an enthusiastic nod.
“I’m grateful he flew me in from Montana to be part of this day.”
I grin at him.
The referee’s whistle cuts through the noise, snapping my attention back to the ice. The puck drops, and the Enforcers head into a two-minute power play, skating with one extra man against the Troopers. Even though this is for charity and there are technically no losers, you’d never know it by the intensity—two teams of retired NHL players battling for one last chance to bury a goal.
One of the Enforcers intercepts the puck and moves it to number 8, a Swedish former teammate of Kaz’s, who feeds it back to him, dodging the Troopers’ attempts to regain possession. My man skates like his life depends on it, controlling the puck with smooth, deliberate strokes, before slipping behind the net and dishing it to number fourteen. His teammate drives toward the crease, but the Troopers collapse on him, clogging the lane. With a quick flick of his wrist, number 14 slides the puck back into open ice. It lands cleanly on my man’s stick. He shifts his weight, snaps a wrist shot, and the puck rips past the goalie, tucking into the upper right corner of the net.
Holy shit.
I jump to my feet.
“Number 22 shoots and SCORES!” Erik says. “That’s the game. A 4–3 Enforcers victory.”
The crowd loses it. And so do I.
The Enforcers’ center and team captain raises his stick, pumping his fist as the arena erupts.
Kaz’s teammates swarm him, hauling him into a crushing group hug.
Tears fill my eyes.
This is the second The Way Home Initiative charity event I’ve been part of. Like last year, my chest swells with pride because I had a small part in something magical. Until starting this position, I was clueless to the competitive nature of the game and I was oblivious to the exhilarating thrill of having your team win. I can imagine what it must’ve been like for Kaz’s fans when the stakes were higher. The nail-biting stress of not knowing if yourfavorite team would hoist the Stanley Cup or take the gold medal at the Olympics must’ve been grueling.
The Enforcers and the Troopers line up and shake each other’s hands.
The noise rolls through the Northview Ice Pavilion, rattling the glass and vibrating under my feet.
After the handshakes, a volunteer skates toward Kaz and hands him a mic.
The crowd quiets down.
I sit back down, my heart still racing, eager to hear what he has to say.
He removes his helmet and hands it to one of his teammates. “Thank you, everyone, for coming out and supporting a cause that’s so close to my heart.” Kaz turns to his opponents. “Thank you to you OGs for not making it easy for us.”
The Troopers make a woofing sound with accompanying hand gestures.
A round of chuckles and claps ripples around the arena.
“There’s a lot of work involved in putting a charity event like this one together. A huge thank you to my formidable team who’s been working tirelessly to make today happen without a hitch. The volunteers who so generously donate their time is another reason why this annual event is so successful.”
I join in as the crowd roars and claps.
