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T ucking my towel around my waist, I exit the showers and head back to my cubby to dress in a fresh uniform the team have laid out for me. The room is somber, a heaviness I feel in my chest surrounds my team, my brothers. We have a few minutes before the final period of a game that’s not going as I planned, begins.

Down 4-0 with BU scoring two shorthand goals and doubling our shots on the net is not how this night was supposed to go. Personally I blame my no-nap jinx for our woefulness, but none can be lumped onto Brady, who will undoubtedly feel the opposite. Troye’s relentlessness taunts not helping his mood. The guy’s played like a demon but a team is more than one man. He can’t beat the Bulldogs on his own.

Ears prick up and the nervous energy in the room quadruples as we hear muffled voices echoing through the hall outside. Any second now Coach Harris will come in here and either encourage the fuck out of us with inspirational quotes from history’s greatest leaders or indiscriminately rip us a new asshole one by one by one.

There is no in between.

Eyes wince and breath is held as the doors sing open and Harris saunters in. He’s not alone though, Coach Cole is at his side. “Boys, one of Boston College’s greatest legends is here watching you. Is this, a shutout L to our arch rivals, the memory you want him to walk away with.”

“No Coach.” Is the unanimous chant in response.

“Good. So what we are going to do is this. Step by step. Play by play, every drill I’ve ever taught you, every skill you’ve ever practiced is going to help us break them because we are faster, stronger, better. We are the Bears and we are winners.”

Grunts and groans and growls do their best to overdo the sound of back slapping, fist bumps and high fives but it’s a tough ask, the boys are pumped. Should there be any tables around I believe they would be flipping through the air about now. A finger raised to Coach’s lips pauses it all. “There’s one more thing, one more person, we have to win for.” His shark-like eyes look and me and my stomach sinks to nut level. “Noah, would you come up here?”

I nod, but my feet seem to have forgotten how to walk. Instead, I kind of fall repetitively till I make it to their side. “Boys, this will be Noah’s final game as Captain.”

A collective gasp of what the fuck is again silenced with a raised hand. It’s Warren Cole’s though, not Coach Harris’s.

“Noah, Matty Barkov has torn his ACL on a late-night run, and as you may know, that makes him the third winger we’ve lost this season. It’s bad news for them but good for you. Congratulations, son. You’re now an NHL player.”

Very little of what’s said in the following ticks in time are absorbed, instead they pass through me like radioactive beams of an x-ray, exposing the very bones of my dreams. I should be ecstatic, bouncing off the walls as my boys are, but I can’t because they think I have just gained everything I’ve ever wanted, I fear I may have lost the one thing I truly do.

The rest of the game passes in a blur. An ass kicking, goal scoring blur, but a blur all the same. There’s moments of clarity, fractured chucks of time when the puck is dancing on the end of my blade, my skates carving thought the ice as I flick a pass to Shane who sends it back to me as I slip behind the net, feet and stick to quick for the goalie who watches in dismay as I flick the biscuit beneath his gloves and into the net. The same happens when I send a one timer hurtling from just inside the blue line, stick snapping with the force of a shot that sneaks above the goalie’s shoulder. That leveled the scores, and my next, a lucky deflection of Troye’s skate gives us the lead.

A hat-trick on what will be my final game as a Bear.

It’s what every player dreams of but I can’t stop thinking about Lotte.

I see her in the stands, cheering and waving each time I’ve scored. For the briefest seconds me and Little Noah get excited about scoring with her after the game, then I remember.

We thought we had time. A few months to solidify and plan our future, but just like that time has been stolen by a dream I’m now not sure I’m ready for.

I better hurry up and get ready though, cause as Coach Cole leaves me to dress, he yells, “Two days, kid. Two days,” over his shoulder.

Two days. I’ve got two days before I need to be in Tampa.

Two fucking days.

Between tying my laces, and staring in the mirror in disbelief, I send Claire a text with the news. There’s no reply before the final period starts, but she and Kelly are here somewhere. I’m sure their screams will shatter the ice when they read it.

We walk away with a win and the party begins before we’ve left the ice. We all know the rest of the night belongs to Marty, but my team won’t let me forget how my life is about to change. Despite two showers, I’m sticky, soaked in what I hope is Gatorade, my skin is red raw from back, arm and ass slaps and my eyes are mysteriously moist and leaking.

I’m going to miss these boys so fucking much.

“Thank you for tonight, but for the love of fuck, don’t say anything to Lotte.” I beg as we exit the locker rooms en masse, our fresh uniforms smelling a whole lot better than those we wore entering it thirty minutes ago.

“Don’t worry, Bro,” Shane says, gripping my shoulders from behind and shaking me like an almost empty ketchup bottle. “We got you, always.”

“Yeah, chill Bro. No one will tell Lotte. Trust us.” Adds Paul who I wholeheartedly do not trust.

“No one will tell Lotte what?”

Oh fuck.

An unrealistic, childlike hope she can’t see me if I close my eyes and don’t move has me freeze on the spot. It doesn’t work. I can hear her foot tapping and can picture her arms crossing over her ample chest as we speak. “Noah. What are you not telling me?” Amidst a flurry of grunted see ya later’s, and I’m out of here’s , my team, the ones who only seconds ago, promised to always have my back, abandon me. Brady is actually running. “Noah, you can close your eyes as tight as you like, but I can still see you.”

I pop open one eye and flash my cutest smile which is not a chore. She looks fucking adorable in a pink plaid skirt, a cream sweater and holy fuck … leg warmers over tights. I’ve never seen her in so much color, and it makes me fall even more in love. “Oh, hey little D. I didn’t see you there.”

“Sure, and I’m an A cup.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her close. “You look fucking edible. Wanna go on the Ferris wheel and make-out before the Players vs Oldies comp starts?”

“Tempting, but don’t you want to eat first … oh and tell me what you I’m not supposed to know?”

“Eating sounds great. Let’s do that.” Hoping I can distract her with snacks and affection, I slide my palms down her silky arms and grip her hands, twisting our fingers together. “What are you hungry for? I could eat the ass out of a teddy bear, so whatever you want is fine with me.”

In silence, I drag her down the hall and out the player’s entrance. It’s dark out now, the flashing neon lights of the carnival, and its attendees glowing wrist bands the only sources of light. It’s loud too. Laughter and hollers of joy fill the air, but above it all I can hear the grinding of Lotte’s teeth.

I’m fully aware that I need to tell her, but I also don’t want to ruin her night.

Not telling her will do that too, though.

I’m fucked either way.

In my periphery, I spot a concession stand selling burgers and fries, so tug Lotte in its direction. A bit of grease may act as a lubricant, allowing her to swallow and digest the news a little easier.

“I’m hungry for the truth,” she deadpans, face screwing up while studying the menu, “I know something is going on. You reek of fear.”

“Oh, that’s the new team soap, Terror. You’re not a fan?”

“Ha, ha, very funny, Captain Dad Joke.”

“Joke. What joke? If I was joking I’d say, what’s the difference between a hockey player and a newborn baby? The baby has more teeth.”

The cutest hint of a smile appears as her lashes flutter against her cheeks, rosy from the cold. “You’d tell me if it was something big though, right?”

Fuck.

“Umm.” A knot I fear I may never untangle forms in my gut because I can’t lie to this girl. I have to tell her. “Yes, but—”

“OH MY GAWD NOAH!” I spin in the general direction of the shriek and see Claire running towards me, arms outstretched, mouth wide open, psychotic in her expression. “Two days! In two days, you’ll be an NHL player.”

Again, I say fuck.

Vomit rises in my throat as I turn from the embarrassing family member and find Lotte, her face streaked in rivulets of silver tears. “Two days? You’re going to Tampa in two days?”

I try to speak but I seem to have lost the ability, a gruff grunt all that I manage before Claire’s body slams into mine.

“I’m so excited for you, Noah. And Mom would be, will be so proud. Everything you’ve worked so hard for has come to fruition.” She locks me into a tight embrace and does nothing for my nausea by jumping up and down. “We’ve got to celebrate, and get ready, and holy shit we’ve got to pack. How we’re going to find anything in your pigsty of a room I don’t know but hey, we have the ultimate motivation.”

The rambling continues and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get a word in. Kelly finally arrives and jumps on Claire’s back, so I now have two idiots hopping me in circles. Lotte is watching on, crying in a heartbreaking silence I’ll hear till the day I die.

It’s not forever, I want to tell her. There will be bi weeks, vacations and holidays, spring break and away games near Boston. But I fear she won’t believe me.

And why would she? I’m just another person abandoning her when she’s not ready.