She whips her head back towards the front, muscles still stiff. Her pen isn’t moving anymore though, and for the rest of the class, she doesn’t write a single thing.
There were so many chances I could have taken to talk to her, but I was always too afraid.
We didn’t get enough time together, and I think that’s what I regret most. I could have had her in my life for years, but I never let myself take the chance.
The risk was too high.
And I was too chicken shit.
Tony calls for a time-out, and we all skate to the bench, panting and downing as much water as we can get before he sends us back out there.
The old man is wearing his best suit, and I only know that because last year he spilled coffee on it and cursed himself for it. He actually spent five minutes harping on Blair because he’s the one who bumpedinto him.
He looks good for sixty, but tired.
I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here though. He lives to coach, loves every second of it, and I can’t imagine having anyone but him yelling at me for the last four years.
He’s tough on us, but he does it because he believes in us.
“We’re all tied up, and we have thirty seconds to make something happen. I don’t want to go into overtime and give them that satisfaction, I know none of you want that either.” He leans against the boards, using his arms to prop up his weight. “The only way that’s going to happen is if one of you goes out there and scores a goal, so make it happen.”
The guys nod.
Wehaveto do this.
“I have spent the last year coaching you fuckers, and frankly, without the help of my dearest not-daughter, I don’t think we would have made it to this point. Go out there and do what I taught you.” He turns and looks to Claire, smiling with a tenderness I’ve only seen him use with her, “anything to add?”
She stands on the bench, looking down and scanning the entire team. Her long brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, and the suit she’s wearing is almost as nice as Tony’s.
Wouldn’t want to upstage the man of the hour.
“You fuckers were practically useless when I joined the team,” we all laugh, “but I have faith that you’re more than capable of making this happen. Thank you for letting me be a part of this team, I’m honoured to say that I was your coach.”
Tears start to burn my eyes, because this isn’t just ourlast game… it’s our last game with her. We only had a year with her, and I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye yet.
I don’t want this to end.
“All of you have so much potential, so go win this fucking game like I know you can.” Her voice is shaky, cracking every other word as she starts to cry. “And fuck all of you for making me so god damn emotional about this.”
The refs blow the whistle, and motion for us to line up for the puck-drop.
Looking to my friends, the guys who have had my back, the ones who made me love hockey more than I thought possible, I know that whether we win or lose this game, we’re going to do it together.
The five of us.
It feels right.
Lucas wins the face-off, passing the puck to August, who makes it to our blue line before the other team checks him into the boards and takes the puck.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, my body taking over and doing whatever the hell it wants on instinct. It comes so naturally to me now, I barely have to think when I’m playing.
Blair and I corner the guy, and while he pins him, I poke the puck out and send it flying towards Miller.
Everything that happens after that is a blur, it’s a battle, vicious and rough as both teams fight for the win. I barely notice everyone sitting in the stands around us, the roaring of the crowd as Lucas makes a break for the net.
He looks towards the bench, eyes growing wide for a moment before he gets cross-checked and sent flying to the ice.
I see the puck lying next to him and scoop itup, my heartbeat pounds in my ears as I look up at the scoreboard and see three seconds left on the clock.
