Coach finally settles down and starts going over some new plays that he wants to try. Nerves flare in my belly at the thought of introducing new plays at this stage, but our opponents seem to know our next move before we can make it.
When he calls Wyatt and Aiden’s name because he wants to run the play that the two of them have been practicing for months now, I want to protest. I should be the one leading this team, but when I look around at all of their faces, at how much determination they have to win this game, I don’t.
I won’t stand in their way, and right now, it feels like every play I lead falls apart before it can come to fruition. Maybe it’s time someone else takes the lead. I just hate the fact that Wyatt’s the one to do it.
Wyatt nods along with Coach and then says, “We won’t let you down, Coach.”
His words cut deep, opening a wound that was already festering from my recent insecurities. I need to get my shit together. I have to pull my head out of my ass for my team.
Just as we break, I grab Wyatt by the shoulder to stop him before he skates out onto the ice. “Jones likes to hog the puck, but once he breaks away, he gets cocky and his dangles get sloppy. That’s where you make your move,” I say, encouragingly.
Wyatt looks puzzled at first, probably because I never talk to him, which needs to stop tonight. I’ve been a shit captain to him ever since he transferred because of the beef with him and Stella,but that isn’t fair to him or the team for me to purposely ignore him. It’s my job to lead everyone. We may have our differences, but out on the ice, we’re supposed to operate as one. It’s about damn time I started acting like it.
He eyes me questioningly, “I got it, Cap.”
I nod, “I know you do.”
Before I know it, we’re in the middle of the play. Wyatt and Aiden have set it up beautifully, and just like I told him, Wyatt makes his move as soon as Jones lets his guard down, going in for the puck with ruthless precision. I’m on Jones before he has time to blink, and it gives Wyatt the head start towards the opposing team’s goal where Aiden is waiting patiently to finish the shot.
Wyatt pulls back and sends the puck sailing straight to Aiden. The puck hits Aiden’s stick, and in a millisecond, he’s poised to take the shot. He pulls his stick back and sends the puck straight for the net. The air horn goes off as soon as the puck sails past the goalie’s glove and into the net.
The crowd loses it. A smile so big it feels like it’s going to split my face takes over. The boys surround Aiden and Wyatt for a quickhoorahbefore we’re back at it again.
I’m back at center ice for the face-off. Nerves start to flare in my belly as I readjust my grip on my twig. I feel my pulse pick up. I shake my head to clear it. The puck drops, and I make my grab for it. I’m a second too late, again. The captain of the other team breaks away with it and heads straight for Nash.
“Fuck!”I roar, my pulse now pounding behind my eyes as I do everything in my power to get the puck away from him. This is the second time tonight that I’ve lost the puck on the face-off. Something that used to be unprecedented but now seems to be a regular occurrence.
Energy bursts from my body, powering my legs forward, hot on the tail of the Wolverine’s captain. I use every ounce of energyI have to stay on him. I may have screwed up the face-off, but I’m not letting him get anywhere near Nash and the goal.
My stick battles with his as we both fight for control of the puck. It isn’t long before I win. I’m spinning on my skates in one second flat, and then I’m heading straight for the opposite goal. The goalie shuffles forward, and I see his skates slightly lean towards the left, which means he most likely thinks he knows where I’m going to shoot the puck.
Usually, he would be right. My go-to is the left top corner because it’s a shot that will land ninety percent of the time, but this guy is ready for me. I change gears at the last second and go for low right. I don’t overthink it or waste any time because I can feel the Wolverine’s captain hot on my heels.
I sling my stick back and send the puck shooting forward. I close my eyes and pray that it lands where I intended. When I don’t hear the cheers of the crowd, my eyes pop open in time to see the puck bounce off the side of the goal and back into play territory.
“Shit!”I yell just as Aiden comes up from behind, scoops the puck up, and finds a small pocket of unmanned net. His shot is clean and direct. The goalie doesn’t have enough time to react before the puck is in the net, and the cheers I was hoping I would hear sound across the arena.
My boys slam into my back in celebration. Aiden’s point officially puts us in the lead, but we still have one more period before the game’s over, and I feel like I’ve already failed them.
I feel like giving up, which is a feeling I’ve never had ever, and it absolutely guts me. I loathe whatever is happening to me, but it feels completely out of my control. I try reciting the bullshit from the therapist again, but it does little to quell the chaos in my brain.
“You need to hold it together for a few more minutes, brother. After the game, you can rage all you want.” Luka’s voice is low but commanding.
“Who says I want to rage?” He isn’t wrong. I do, without a doubt, but how does he know?
“You look like you are ready to murder someone,” Luka answers with one eyebrow raised.
I huff a disgruntled, “Fuck off,” because I don’t like that he can see the turmoil going on in my mind right now.
“What do I need to say right now? Because every time I try, it feels like it’s the wrong thing to say,” he asks, pleading in his tone, and that has me stopping in my tracks. This isn’t his problem, and he hasn’t done anything except try to be there for me.
I don’t know how to explain to him what I’m feeling because I don’t know what it is. It’s so damn foreign I don’t know what to do with it. “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t know.”
His face falls, but soon an expression of determination takes over. Then he says, “Success is not final; failure is not fatal. It is the courage to continue that counts.”
“Woah, dude. You going soft on me?” I joke, but his words slowly sink in, one by one, until they start to click together.
He shrugs, “Saw it on a t-shirt.”
