Page 109 of Home of the Brave

“A little twisted ankle?” I joked.

“Nah, something to take you out for the game, but you can be back for the next one.”

I pretended to consider it. “Abrams knows me well. It would have to be pretty major for me to willingly leave the net.”

“Stomach flu?” he suggested. “Super bad for the day, but then you’re magically better.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one. I could puke on command; that would really sell it.”

His eyes widened. “Can you do that?”

“Nope.” I slapped him on the back and stepped onto the ice, heading to the net as he laughed.

“Next game?” he called, and I shook my head.

If our roles were swapped, I’d be doing the same thing, but I stopped being the backup goalie years ago, and I had something to prove after the last two losses.

The arena was already nearly full, with warm-ups starting. The energy was like a playoff game. Which, in a way, this was, since it was a short series, but it fueled me like the Stanley Cup was on the line.

My routine was what kept me from letting the adrenaline get to me. I moved in front of the boards and started stretching. With the rise in social media, catching players in awkward and suggestive poses made me think through my progress. I discovered the closer I am to the boards, the less fans can film me from behind.

Most of the guys in Utah didn’t care, but after a few too many fan edits, I found a way to limit their footage.

Moving on from stretching, I moved to the net and started cutting the crease, simultaneously warming up my legs by scraping the fresh ice and creating grip. Then, practicing side to sides to make sure I liked the feel.

I signaled to Tyson I was ready to start, and almost immediately, two lines formed, and the guys started taking shots.

The rapid fire was overwhelming to most, even to watch, but it was my favorite part of pregame. I didn’t count the saves or scores. This was just as much for me as it was to get the guys warmed up.

I focused on seeing the puck and predicting movements. When we were done, Abrams would tell me where my weakness was so I could focus on it during the game, but today I felt great. When I looked back, the net had far fewer pucks than normal and I took that as my sign that we were going to have a good game.

And I was right.

Tyson got a hat trick. His career first.

We played like we were at war, defending our homes and families. The guys left nothing on the ice, and I fought just as hard for them. The roar of the crowd was deafening. It took all my concentration not to let it distract me.

Especially when I caught sight of Victoria watching me. Once I found her during the second period, I was constantly aware of her presence. I felt her cheering for me, rather than heard it when we locked eyes after a save. She was screaming, but so was everyone around her.

I dipped my head, making sure she knew I saw her without drawing too much attention.

She clapped, and I swear her cheeks flushed when Cambrie elbowed her.

I was a kid again, falling for the very first time.

We ended up winning by four.

She was in the press room, as expected, but she ran over the second I walked in after showering and changing.

“You were incredible!” She threw her arms around my neck, and I half spun her out of the way of my teammates walking in.

“Hey! Where’s my hug?” Schultz teased behind us.

“After last night, you’re lucky I haven’t posted something to humiliate you.” She shot him a hard look.

“We did it for you!” he argued, and Hartman put his hand on his shoulder.

“Give it a few days.”