Then I spot a familiar face in the crowd. Brett. He catches my eye and flashes me a thumbs-up. What the hell is he doing here? The Commanders didn't make the playoffs, so he should be home for the summer by now.
The puck drops, and the Toronto Glaciers come out flying. They score first, a deflection off Ethan's stick that Logan couldn't stop. The crowd goes quiet.
We're down 1-0 after the first period.
In the second period, the Glaciers extend their lead. A power play goal that slips through Logan's five-hole. The arena feels like a morgue.
2-0 Glaciers.
“We're not done,” I tell the guys between periods. “Twenty minutes. That's all we need.”
The third period is when we come alive. Ryan scores on a beautiful wrist shot to cut the lead in half. The crowd erupts, sensing a comeback.
With five minutes left, we tie it. Alex deflects a shot from the point, and the arena shakes with noise.
Then, with two minutes remaining, I get my chance. A rebound comes right to me in the slot, and I bury it top shelf.
“We're in the fucking playoffs!” I shout as my teammates crash into me. Bodies pile on top of me, voices screaming in celebration. We did it. After years of disappointment, we're finally going to the playoffs.
The family section empties onto the ice. Kids, wives, girlfriends, all celebrating with us. I scan the crowd, still hoping Harper might appear.
“She's not here, man,” Brett says, appearing beside me and slapping my back. “But congratulations. Hell of a comeback.”
Before I can ask what he's doing here, Liam crashes into both of us, champagne already splashing from someone's bottle.
“Time to celebrate!” he shouts. “Brett, you're coming with us. We need to rub it in that the Commanders missed the playoffs again.”
“You guys go celebrate,” Brett says, but he's looking at me. “I have to fly back tonight. But Cole, I need a word with you first.”
I lead him down the tunnel, past the celebrating locker room, to a quiet area near the medical office.
“You look like hell,” he says.
“Yeah, I feel like hell.”
Brett studies my face for a moment. “You really love her.”
“Yes.” The word comes out rough. “She's the first woman I've ever loved, and she'll be the last.”
“Then fight for her.”
“She won't see me. Won't return my calls. I've tried everything.”
“Then make her see you,” Brett interrupts. “You're the captain of the Renegades, a team that just made the playoffs. Be creative.”
He claps my shoulder once more and heads toward the exit, leaving me standing alone in the tunnel.
Be creative.
The words echo in my head as I return to the locker room, where my teammates are still celebrating. Champagne flows, music blares, and everyone is talking about our first playoff appearance in years.
But all I can think about is Brett's advice.
I'm Cole Maddox, captain of the New York Renegades. I've just led my team to the playoffs for the first time in my career. If I can orchestrate a third-period comeback against the Glaciers, surely I can figure out how to win back the woman I love.
Harper Hayes thinks I chose hockey over her. It's time to show her that's not true.
It's time to choose her over everything else.
