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Chapter twenty-one

Nate

The arena lights blaze overhead, bright enough to rival the sun, and the roar of the home crowd is already electric. This is our turf. Game night. And I'm locked in.

Almost.

I catch her right before warmups.

Mandy and Kira are sliding into their seats three rows up behind the bench. Kira's waving like she's on a parade float. Mandy's bundled in one of my jerseys, her hair down and tousled from the wind outside, and when our eyes lock, she blows me a kiss.

I grin.

James elbows me on the way by. "That for you, lover boy?"

"Nah," I deadpan. "She was aiming for Parker."

"Right. Because Parker's abs have their own fan club."

I shake my head, skating off toward center ice. I'm not letting James get in my head. Not tonight.

Coach gives us the usual pregame speech. Stay sharp. First shift sets the tone. Play our game.

I feel solid tonight.

The first period starts fast. We're skating hard, throwing clean hits, and setting the tempo. I get a good early shift, and clear the puck with a long pass off the boards that springs Connor into the offensive zone. He doesn’t score, but he draws a tripping penalty, and that sets us up for our first power play. We don’t convert, but it swings the momentum our way.

Back on the bench, the boys are fired up. James keeps chirping the other team’s winger, some rookie who tried to throw a hit and bounced off Parker like a beach ball. Ethan snorts into his water bottle, and even Coach cracks a rare grin.

We close out the first period up by one thanks to a rebound goal from Tanner. The arena’s alive, and I swear it’s the kind of energy that gets in your bloodstream.

Between periods, the locker room smells like sweat and adrenaline, and nobody’s saying it out loud, but we want this win bad.

Midway through the second, I block a shot on the penalty kill, spin the puck up to Ethan, and he takes it coast to coast for a shorthanded goal. The bench erupts. He taps his stick against my shin as we pass. Connor slaps my helmet.

"That was sick," he grins.

I glance at the glass.

Mandy’s up on her feet, clapping and whistling like she’s front row at a rock concert.

Fuck, I love that look on her face.

In the locker room during second intermission, the mood is high. We’re up 2-0, the guys are loose, but focused.

I grab my water bottle and check my phone. Just a glance.

One like.

From Mandy.

On an old Instagram post. A photo from my rookie season. I haven’t seen that picture in forever. I must've looked like a literal child.

She commented too:

"Still my favorite #23."

A slow smile creeps across my face.