“Game 7, baby.” His voice is raw. “Game fucking 7.”
Barrett comes into the locker room after. He stands in the middle and looks at every single person, one by one.
“One game,” he says. “Everything you’ve done this season—every practice, every film session, every rep—it all comes down to one game on our ice. I’m not going to give you a speech about legacy or history or what this means. You already know. You’ve been playing like you know.” He pauses. “Enjoy tonight. Sleep tomorrow. Be ready the day after.”
He leaves and I sit there with my phone in my hand that has nine texts from Mackie that came in during the third period.
Mackie
SAVE
ANOTHER SAVE
I’M GOING TO THROW UP
rodriguez has the puck rodriguez has the puck
RODRIGUEZ
I JUST SCREAMED SO LOUD MY MOM CAME DOWNSTAIRS
GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7 GAME 7
I’m shaking
I’m literally sitting on the floor shaking
Me
47 saves
Mackie
I COUNTED
Me
we’re coming home
One more game. The only game that matters and I don’t know what happens after it. I don’t know what next season looks like. Whether Jack will ever talk to me again or the locker room goes back to normal. Will I go back to being the backup goalie after I’ve played the best hockey of my life in the middle of the worst month of my life? None of it will matter if we lose Game 7 and the story ends there.
The flight lands and I drive home faster than I ever have. I can hear the shower running as I walk into my apartment and I’ve barely put the keys on the counter when the bathroom door flies open and Mackie comes at me at full speed, hair dripping, wearing one of my t-shirts that is now completely see-through, and hits me like a small, damp freight train. She’s got her arms around my neck and she’s getting water everywhere.
“You made forty-seven saves,” she says into my neck.
“I did. You’re soaking wet.”
“I was in the shower and I heard your keys.”
“You could have finished your shower.”
“Absolutely not.” She pulls back. Her eyes are red and bright at the same time and my entire shirt is drenched. She puts her hands on my face. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Good. Me too. You know what’scrazy? Two days from now this is over. One way or the other. The whole season, the whole series, everything—it’s just over. And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
