The sound. Oh, my God, it was thunder.
I didn’t hear my own shouting but I sure as shit felt it. Felt the boys crash into me, helmets knocking, gloves pounding my back.
“Holy shit,” Grayson yelled. “Holy shit!”
I skated past the glass on instinct, heart hammering, and looked up. Nicole was on her feet. Hands over her mouth but not in disbelief. Of everyone in here, I knew she was the one who never stopped believing we stood a chance.
The final minutes were a blur of blocked shots, desperate clears, and white-knuckled tension. Colorado pulled their goalie. The puck lived in our zone.
The horn sounded.
We’d done it.
Surge 4. Avalanche 3.
And we made the playoffs.
We poured onto the ice, sticks raised, shouting, hugging, laughing like lunatics. Underdogs. Wild card. Still in it.
In the handshake line, Colorado guys nodded, respect sharp in their eyes. Back in the locker room, champagne sprayed, music blasted, and someone started chanting my name. I peeled off my gear, chest still buzzing, sweat cooling on my skin.
Mason clapped a hand on my shoulder. “That goal,” he said. “That was some dirty shit.”
I grinned. “You know how I like it.”
Later, when I finally stepped out toward the tunnel again, Nicole was waiting near the railing. She didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, eyes soft but gleaming with pride.
I knew, then.
Tonight had changed something.
And this season?
It was just getting started.
*
I still had the taste of cheap beer on my tongue when I unlocked my door. “This is getting to be a trend,” I said to no-one, because my place was empty.
The adrenaline from the win hadn’t burned off yet. My hands were steady, but my body felt too big for my skin, like I was still skating, still chasing that final goal. Laughter and music from the locker room echoed faintly in my head as the door clicked shut behind me.
Then I heard it.
Nicole’s voice. Sharp. Raised. Not laughing or teasing.
A searing shot of anger snapped me fully awake and sober.
I froze in my entryway, keys still in my hand, heart stuttering once before it kicked hard into my ribs. The walls between our apartments weren’t thick. They never had been. Normally that meant muffled TV noise or the hum of her shower.
Not this.
“I said I’m done,” Nicole shouted.
Something crashed. Glass, maybe. Or a picture frame. The sound was violent enough that my stomach clenched.
James’s voice came next, lower and way meaner. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I didn’t need to. The tone carried plenty.
Another crash. Heavier this time. And a thud against a wall.
