I look that way and spot Gordie, his little girl, and Cordelia waving back at him.
Rebel and April are sitting in that row too.
Excitedly, I stop and search the rest of the row until I find her. Riley sees me looking in her direction and she smiles beautifully.
Man, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
I blow her a kiss.
Movement to Riley’s left takes my attention. I see my best friend grabbing at the air in front of Riley and pretending to ‘capture’ my kiss. Then he takes it and throws it on the ground, squashing it with his boots.
Riley smacks her brother’s shoulder, scowling at him.
I chuckle and get back into my laps.
Pucks slap against the boards and the net as warm ups continue. I get in a few shots of my own until an on-ice referee skates to center ice and blows a whistle.
The ice empties in seconds.
McLanely, Kinsey, and Renthrow aren’t in my bench. They’re the opposers, along with some new faces. From what I gathered, the other team is made up of established players that Max called in from various professional teams.
The game begins with a frenzy for the puck.
I’m on the bench for most of the first half but, every time my skates touch the ice, I lay it all on the line until Coach switches me out for another player.
Unfortunately, I don’t get tapped in as much as I’d like.
McLanely’s team iscreamingours. I don’t understand why I’m not getting more ice time. However, I bite my tongue and shout encouragements to my teammates, waiting on pins and needles for my turn.
With three minutes left on the board and a lopsided score in our opponent’s favor, Coach finally shouts my name.
I launch over the boards, accelerating as soon as my skates hit the ice.
After my surgery, I was thrilled to be able to work my way back to skating again. I kept practicing and pushing myself until I regained my previous speed.
But speed won’t stop me from getting plastered to the boards. My leg is a target for anyone who wants to play dirty, so peripheral vision is what I’ve been training for.
It’s time to show everyone what I’m made of.
My lungs burn as I chase the puck, the cold air biting into my face and nose. As I hit the neutral zone, I sense a dark blur at theedge of my vision. I react on the fly and angle left, slipping past the attacker before he can cut me off.
The defenseman stumbles, skating into empty air with a quick look of shock on his face.
My move has been noticed by the stadium because the noise in the arena blows up by several decibels. Chaos is erupting on the ice too as I start attracting more defenders.
I pass the puck, position myself on open ice and accept the puck when a teammate slices it over to me. This time, two defenders try to stick to either side. That’s when my peripheral does what it was trained to do.
I notice a flicker of movement near the far post—my winger drifting into open ice, unnoticed with all the attention on me.
Pushing one more stride deeper toward the goalie, I get a snapshot of the ice in a heartbeat. The goalie’s pad flaring, the defender’s stick reaching too late. Without looking, I snap the puck across for the pass.
The winger fumbles, losing the puck immediately to the defense.
It doesn’t slow me down.
I lean into my speed and skate around the net and back in position before most of the opposing team can reset. The puck spins loose, lost in a frenzy of fighting sticks.
My peripheral vision tracks the black disc and speed propels me forward when I see an opportunity for a rebound.
