He nods and skates over to give Owen and Hancock the signal. They know what’s happening, and they know what I want to do.
The play starts like it always does. Owen brings it down the center, but out of nowhere a Cliff’s defenseman slips past and steals the puck. Their fans go wild as he takes it down the ice past our blue line.
Akers is ready, bringing all his pads and gear together, clocking the player’s every move. He brings it right up and fires it at the net. My lungs seize, and it looks like it’s going over his shoulder when at the last minute, he reaches out and traps it, sending it back out onto the ice.
I’m right there for the save, ripping it up the zone and getting our play back in motion. I fire a pass to Owen, and he corrals it. Then he shoots it over to Hancock, who sends it back to me. I’m ready with the slap, and it sears into the top corner past the goalie.
With that, the Jumbotron lights up. I get the hat trick, and we win the game. We’re going to the finals, and the Cliffs are going home to Colorado.
The stadium erupts, caps land on the ice, and I glance up to catch sight of Dove there with all the girls wearing my jersey and screaming her pretty blonde head off. They all do the hand motions to our hype song, and when she blows that air horn, my head drops back with a laugh.
It’s the best feeling in the world. It always has been from the time I was a kid sneaking away to play all through high school. I’ve been doing this for so long, and as much as I love it, gliding around, hugging the guys and slapping gloves, I can feel something inside of me has shifted.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still playing hard, and I stillwant that Cup so bad, I can taste it. It’s just different. What makes it so good now is knowing she’s up there watching, knowing I’m sharing it with the most special person in my world.
It won’t be the same if she’s not there, and I’m pretty sure I know what that means.
“When that defensemanstole the puck, I was afraid it was all over.” Gavin is even with us tonight celebrating this win.
Lucy is spending the night with her grandparents, and it’s a rare night with all of the family here at North End, celebrating with the guys in our sequestered area in the back.
Flashes were going off like crazy as we made our way into the small bar in Hermosa Beach, and the hype leading up to the final round is growing. It’s been several years since the Champions won the cup, and the paparazzi have started showing up everywhere.
Thankfully, it’s not just me catching the spotlight anymore. Now Owen, Gavin, and Hancock have made it into the limelight thanks to our signature play, and of course Akers continues to get all the attention he loves. Goalies are always favorites.
“I saw a few of our guys out there,” Haddy says, leaning over the table. “The rest are new. Or they’re freelancers.”
“You’re friends with those guys?” Dove’s eyes are wide, and she shares a stool with Gina.
“I wouldn’t call themfriends.” Haddy takes the beer Owen poured for her. “It’s more like a compromise. If we give them what they need, the hope is they won’t campoutside our houses driving us crazy while we try to walk the dogs or take the kids to school.”
“Does it work?” Dove takes a sip of her beer, and I stand beside her, absently resting my hand on the stool back behind her.
“So far it’s been working,” Haddy sighs. “I don’t know what to expect if they win the Cup.”
“When we win the Cup,” I call to her, lifting my glass and clinking it with the other guys.
“I’m sorry I won’t be here to see it,” Dove says, and that old familiar pain is in my chest.
“It’s possible none of us will,” Gina says, sipping her beer. “The final game could be in Florida for all we know.”
I turn, taking a step back when a familiar redhead appears at my side, smiling up at me in a knowing way.
“Sniper Spice, we meet again.” Jessica Rabbit stands at my side, hand on her hip.
Tonight, she’s in a dark-green blazer with an ivory shirt underneath and matching pants. She looks like she just stepped off a private jet, and she must be wearing heels. Her face is closer to my level.
Still, her auburn hair hangs long down her back, and her chest strains against the buttons. I glance around trying to find Akers. Wasn’t he the one interested in making this mistake?
“Sorry…” I move closer to Dove. “I didn’t get your name.”
“You didn’t read my note,” she says, taking a sip of her cocktail, and I feel Dove shift in her chair at my side.
We’re at a sports bar where everyone is drinking beer, yet she’s having what looks like a martini. My lips tighten, and I don’t know what to make of this. She knows too much about me, and she’s persistent.
Shaking my head, I look down, scrubbing my fingersover my forehead. “Actually, I think I might’ve lost it in the locker room. I’m sorry.”
“Susan Jackson,Sports Illuminated.”
