But Yom quickly disabused him of that notion with a razor-sharp interception. With less than a minute to go in the game, he started skating toward the Canadian goal stand, fully locked into putting Team Deutschland ahead before the final game’s buzzer.
Until he saw her.
His heart slammed hard inside his chest.Library Girl is here.
Standing in the aisle directly above the goal stand.
With another man. A clean-cut blond whom Yom recognized from an earlier match in the World Championship.
When Team USA had lost to Germany in a surprise upset thanks to Yom’s game-winning overtime goal, the blond scion actually tried to come onto the ice to question the ref’s call.
“That was Paul Carrington,” Yom’s brother had explained afterward, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Any relationship to Joseph Carrington?” Yom did not know much about the state where he attended school. Still, he was aware the library was named after the university’s most successful graduate, Joseph Carrington, who also happened to be the owner of the Minnesota Raptors.
Cheslav nodded. “Maybe he was so unhappy because Team USA had two Raptors playing for them—two Raptors who underestimated my little brother.”
Yom had smirked at Cheslav’s guess. Then quickly forgot the existence of Paul Carrington as Team Germany prepared for the final game. He’d assumed the hockey scion had slunk home to lick his wounds after his favored team was defeated.
But no. There he was, standing in the aisle directly above Canada’s goal, looking completely at ease.
With his arm wrapped aroundYom’sLibrary Girl.
Yom’s stomach churned.
She wasn’t just there. She wasn’t just watching. She was with him.
His heart stuttered, then slammed painfully again as the realization crashed over him. She wasn’t who he thought she was.
His grip tightened on his stick, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was.
That was until the blond male suddenly animated and pulled Library Girl into a hug. His mouth dropped open, and everyone in the crowd wearing red and white jerseys jumped to their feet and erupted into cheers.
And that was when Yom realized…
He’d stopped skating. Furthermore, the puck he’d been escorting to the Canadian goal was no longer on his stick.
It had been intercepted while he stared at Library Girl.
Cursing, Yom twisted around and skated for the Canadian center, speeding toward Germany’s goal with all his might.
But he wasn’t fast enough.
The center swung his hockey stick right before Yom caught up to him, and the German goalie fell to his knees to try to block the shot—only to have the black disc sail right past him. The puck hit the back of the net as the final buzzer sounded.
The Germans let out roars of anguish, and the Canadians screamed happily as announcements, first in English and then in German, went out that Team Canada had won the World Ice Hockey Federation Championship.
No one talked to Yom in the locker room afterward. But his teammates muttered to each other, their words like splinters, sharp and painful, in stark contrast to the roaring cheers they’d shared after the semi-final.
Yom changed out of his hockey gear with a leaden weight in his stomach, like he’d swallowed a puck, and it was lodged there, heavy and unmovable. For the first time since landing in Berlin, he was almost relieved that his German mother hadn’t bothered to attend any of his games—not even the championship.
Around him, the Germans, who had been so elated to reach the finals with Yom as their secret weapon, now spoke in low, cutting tones. Some speculated whether his participation had been part of a calculated plot by his father’s government to humiliate them. The words scraped against the raw wound of losing, leaving it deeper and exposed.
This was why… this was why he never invited anyone to his games. Victory brought celebration, but that celebration always vanished the moment you lost.
Yom had no doubts that German sports pundits were saying the same thing as his teammates during their coverage of that disastrous last two minutes. The locker room’s overhead televisions had been muted, but several replays of Yom coming to a sudden stop and seeming to stand there in a daze while the Canadian center took the puck off him flashed across their screens. Silently judging him.
So now his father’s country hated him for what they perceived as a failure to help their national team advance to the finals. And his mother’s country hated him for destroying their opportunity to make history by winning back-to-back WIHF Championships.
