That catches me off guard. “What?”
“With the team,” he clarifies. “This run… it wouldn’t happen without you.”
He shifts again, suddenly looking like he regrets starting this conversation at all.
“Anyway,” he mutters, half-laughing at himself, “just wanted to say that. I’m… feeling the pressure a bit tonight.”
“We’ll make it,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah.”
He bumps my shoulder lightly with his glove.
“Glad you’re out here with me.”
Before I can respond, he pushes off the ice and skates away toward the center.
Just like that. Conversation over.
I watch him go.
He joins Russo near the faceoff circle, already shifting back into game mode, shoulders loose again now that whatever awkward speech he rehearsed in his head is finished.
I shake my head slightly and push back into motion.
ZANE
The game feels unreal from the first puck drop.
From the first puck drop everything just… works. The ice opens up in ways it hasn’t all season, passes land exactly where they’re supposed to, and for once my brain finally shuts up about scouts and pressure and everything else that’s been buzzing around my head for the last week.
I just play.
It passes in a blur.
By the time the final buzzer sounds the scoreboard tells us what we already know.
We’re going to Showcase.
The celebration is chaos.
The bench erupts. Barrett jumps the boards screaming, Mercer nearly tackles Chen into the crease, and fans start hammering against the glass like the whole building might come apart.
I coast toward center ice, breathing hard, trying to let it sink in.
We actually did it.
I find Shaw near the boards.
He’s standing apart, like always, but I can see the smile behind his helmet.
I skate over.
“Guess you’re stuck with us for Showcase.”
“Tragic.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
