The offer surprised me. Could I trust him with something that felt so personal? I guess if he could trust me with his daughter, I could trust him with this. “I might take you up on that.”
TWENTY-SIX
The air in the locker room was fucking electric as we finished getting ready for the conference championships. This was as far as we could go in club hockey, and it was everything we’d been working for all season. There was no way I was going to be a liability on the ice like the last couple of times.
Not tonight.
“You good, Monty?” Foster asked, sitting down beside me. Our captain looked calm as always, but his jaw was tight with tension. This game meant everything to him too.
“Yeah,” I said, but my hands were shaking slightly. “Just thinking about last time.”
“Last time’s over,” Liam said from across the room, pulling his jersey over his head. That hint of Irish accent was already getting thicker—it always did when he got pumped up. “Tonight’s a clean slate.”
Easy for him to say. He hadn’t been the one who nearly blew our chance to play in the championships because he was too busy worrying about whether his daughter was okay.
Coach Maxwell stepped into the center of the room, and the chatter died instantly. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice carrying that quiet authority that made everyone listen. “You’ve earned this. Every practice, every drill, and every game this season has led to this moment. MSU is tough, but we’re tougher. We’re faster. And we want it more.”
He looked around the room, making eye contact with each of us. “Leave everything on the ice. No regrets, no what-ifs. Just sixty minutes of the best hockey you’ve ever played.”
The guys started banging their sticks on the floor, the sound building until it was thunderous. Foster stood up, his voice cutting through the noise.
“On three,” he shouted. “Conference champs! One, two, three?—”
“CONFERENCE CHAMPS!”
The energy in the room was infectious, but as we lined up for warm-ups, my stomach was still twisted in knots. What if I fucked up again? What if I let the team down when it mattered most?
We skated out onto the ice, and the roar from the crowd was fucking deafening. The seats were packed with fans in a sea of Clark Fork maroon and Montana State navy. I took a lap around the rink, trying to find my center, when something in the stands caught my eye.
Ava was sitting about halfway up, waving like a maniac. Next to her were my parents, with Rory nestled in my mom’s arms, wearing the tiniest pair of baby ear protection headphones I’d ever seen.
All the anxiety in my chest shifted as a warm certainty settled in its place.
My daughter was here.
I skated over to the glass and tapped it with my stick. Mom grinned and lifted Rory’s little hand, making her wave at me. But it was the way Rory’s chubby cheeks smooshed into a toothless grin as I smiled at her that sunk me.
Thiswas who I was playing for.
And I would do whatever it took to make my daughter proud of me.
The knot in my stomach disappeared completely.
When the puck dropped, everything fucking clicked like it always had before.
Foster won the draw clean, sliding it back to me at the point. Instead of the panicked uncertainty that had plagued me in our last few games, I felt completely calm. I surveyed the ice with perfect clarity and saw Liam already jumping up on the rush down the left side.
Liam deked around their defenseman like he wasn’t even there and fired a wrist shot that rang off the crossbar. Close, but it set the tone. We were here to play.
MSU came back hard, their top line cycling the puck in our zone with the kind of precision that had made them conference leaders all season. But when their center tried to spring their winger on a breakaway, I was right there to break up the pass and clear it up the boards.
“That’s it, Monty!” Foster called as we lined up for the next face-off. “Stay locked in!”
The first period was back and forth, both teams feeling each other out. I was reading the plays perfectly, anticipating their moves before they made them. When their power play unit tried to set up in our zone, I disrupted their passing lanes and cleared the puck cleanly every time.
I was fucking unstoppable.
With two minutes left in the period, we got our chance. Foster carried the puck into their zone and dropped it backto me at the blue line. I saw Liam positioned perfectly in front of their net and fired a slap shot that he deflected past their goalie’s glove.
