I win the draw clean back to Gabriel. He sends it wide. Mason crashes. Chaos in front of the net.
The puck pops loose.
I don’t think.
I react.
I step into space and rip it.
The sound of the post rings like a gunshot.
The crowd screams.
So close it hurts.
The opposing team clears.
I skate back hard, lungs on fire, refusing to slow.
Another shift.
Another chance.
With forty seconds left, Bryce chips it deep. Dex beats his man to the puck and centers it blindly.
I’m already there.
I bury it.
Red light.
The building detonates.
My arms shoot up before I even realize it. My teammates crash into me, sticks banging, gloves slamming into my helmet.
That rush… God, it never gets old.
The horn blares.
We hold the line.
Final seconds tick down.
When it’s over, the noise is unreal.
We did it.
I skate toward the bench, breathing hard, heart hammering, letting the sound wash over me.
Win secured.
Then the music kicks up.
Not our goal song.
Something lighter.
More pop.
