When we hit the arena, whatever noise was left in my head had fizzled to nothing. Skates. Ice. Lines. This was the part of my world that made sense. The part that always did.
Warmups snapped into place quickly. My legs felt good, stick felt right, and the puck was a beauty. St. Louis came out hard, their fans loud and territorial, but there was a looseness to us tonight that hadn’t been there against the Jets. Something in the team clicked, and I felt it from the first shift.
Grayson won the draw clean, back to me, who moved it fast to Shawn cutting up the right side. Mason crossed behind him, dragging coverage, and he fed it through the slot without even looking. I was already there. My first touch was instinctual, low and hard, which had the goalie kicking it out with his pad. Grayson crashed the crease and buried the rebound before the defense could blink.
The Surge bench erupted, and whatever little red and white was scattered through the stands did the same.
Coach looked about ready to kiss us all on the lips.
The next few minutes turned into pressure stacked on pressure. We rolled lines smoothly, no scrambling or panic. Hunter tracked everything, glove clean, pads square. Ourdefense pinched at the right moments, bearing down when we called for it, and retreating when they should.
Nobody played the hero because they were all waiting for me to do it.
Midway through the first, I took the puck off the boards near center ice, chipped it past their left defenseman, and chased it down myself. Mason timed his entry perfectly, trailing just enough to stay open. I drew two guys, waited for the lane, then dropped it back to him. He snapped it into the top corner before the goalie set his feet.
Two nothing.
On the bench, Mason knocked his shoulder into mine. “See? Team effort.”
I grinned, already hopping over the boards for the next shift.
Late in the second, St. Louis tried to answer back. They pressed, threw bodies, tested Hunter from bad angles. We absorbed it all. Grayson blocked a shot that stung just watching it. Shawn won a battle along the boards that he had no business winning. Tucker cleared the zone with a move that had their forecheck spinning.
We were celebrating that one, when I caught sight of her. Third row back, just off center ice. Foam finger punching the air, and Surge jersey swallowing her frame. She was yelling something I couldn’t hear, but didn’t need to. The look on her face said it all. She was all-in, and made sure everyone knew it.
“People can see you staring, loverboy,” Mason said as he skated past, and I averted my eyes.
Heat sparked low in my gut, and I circled back into position, eyes still catching on her every time I passed that side of the ice.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
She waved the foam finger harder, nearly clocking the guy next to her. He grumbled about it, but she didn’t give a fuck.
I knew what that looked like. What it felt like.
So, fine.
If she wanted a show, I’d give her one.
Early in the third, game already leaning our way, I caught a clearing attempt near the blue line and knocked it down with my skate. Instead of settling it, I flicked it back up, caught it on my blade, and kept moving. Defenseman stepped up, reaching. I bounced the puck through his legs, spun around him before he recovered, collected it clean on the other side, and swept it past the goalie’s outstretched pad.
Net rippled. Red light flared.
I didn’t even look at the bench. My eyes went straight to the stands where Nicole was losing her mind. Both hands in the air, chanting my name with the rest of them.
I tapped my stick against the ice once and gave a salute in her direction, before turning back to the circle.
We closed it out after that. No mercy, no letup. The final horn sounded with the score stretched wide enough to make the statement we’d come here to make.
This was the Surge people remembered, and after tonight, there could be no doubt we were still in the running.
Social media was already going off when we got to the locker room. The music kicked on, loud and obnoxious, and Coach waited until we settled before he spoke.
“That’s how it’s done,” he said. “That’s what happens when you trust the work we’ve put in, and each other.”
His gaze moved around the room, lingering where it needed to. When it landed on me, it held.
