Page 63 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Ryker

Ican’t believe I’m here.

It’s game seven of the Stanley Cup finals. We’ve won three games, and New York has won three games, so tonight is the tie-breaker.

Every muscle in my body is tense and sore. Nerves fire off inside of me like cannons.

Thank fuck we’re playing on home ice. I would be crawling out of my skin if we had to play this final game in New York.

I sit on the bench and try to steady my breathing as I watch my teammates go against the Wolverines players. I know what’s at stake tonight. We all do.

We’re almost at the end of the second period, and neither team has scored.

Both teams are playing our asses off, though. We’re all skating faster and fighting harder than we ever have. Because this is our last shot—our last chance to win. And we’re fucking desperate for it.

A knot gnaws at the pit of my stomach. It’s been there this whole game—since the start of the finals, honestly.

My heartbeat kicks up and I make myself take a long, steady breath. It doesn’t help much, not when stress makes every muscle in my body tense.

But underneath all that tension is a flicker of excitement. I finally did it. I’m playing in the Stanley Cup finals. Something that I’ve been dying to do since I started in the league fifteen years ago.

No matter how tonight ends up, I’m grateful that I made it this far.

But I’m still gonna play my fucking ass off and do everything I can to help my team win.

“St. George, you’re up,” Coach Porter calls out.

I hop the barrier onto the ice and get in position for face-off. The second the puck lands, Theo passes it back to Del, who takes off like a flash of lightning.

I take off too, trying to outskate the Wolverines defenseman who’s covering me.

Del is a speed demon, making it to their net faster than I’ve ever seen him go. He shoots the puck, but it bounces off their goalie’s stick. Theo is all over it and takes a shot, but the puck ricochets off the crossbar, landing in the corner.

I make it over before anyone else and snatch it, but that defenseman is on my ass, so I can’t get a clean shot into the net. Sam is the closest to me, so I pass it to him.

He winds up and shoots it. A second later, the puck sails past their goalie and lands at the back of the net.

The home crowd goes nuts as we all scream and surround Sam.

“Hell fucking yeah, man!” I holler.

He grins. “Thanks for the assist.”

A thrill shoots up my spine at being able to help my teammate score.

When I turn around, I spot Maddy in the stands, on her feet, cheering for me.

Her eyes sparkle with pride as she beams at me. My heart aches in my chest. I wouldn’t be here, playing in the finals, if it hadn’t been for her training and her support.

Neither team manages to score in the last minute of the second period. When we head to the locker room for intermission, Coach Porter stands at the center of the room to address us.

“That was a damn good goal, McKesson. Way to get us on the board.” He turns to me. “And that was a hell of an assist, St. George.”

I nod. “Thanks, Coach.”

“One more period, gentleman. Twenty more minutes to the end. I wanna see every single one of you digging deep when you’re on the ice.

Every second you’re out there, you’re playing your heart out,” he says.

“You know how badly I want to win. I know you want it too. But more than that, I want to see you give it your all. As long as you give every ounce of yourself out there, I don’t care about the outcome.

I’ll be proud of all of you. Understood? ”

My chest goes tight. I’ve played for a lot of coaches over the years, but Coach Porter is the best. And this is why.

Yeah, he’s competitive as hell and wants to win.

But he cares more about the integrity of his players.

He cares more that we’re playing our very best than he does about winning.

And that just makes us want to play harder and win even more.

“Yes, Coach,” we all holler.

Excitement hurtles through me. I feel overwhelmed, nervous, fired up, and more determined than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

I watch from the bench as the puck hits the ice at the start of the third period. A few minutes in, New York manages to sink a shot past Blomdahl, tying up the score.

My nerves kick up. I can sense the uncertainty from everyone on the bench and every time I’m on the ice.

The air in the arena buzzes. The fans are rabid. It’s so damn loud in here. Now that we’re tied, the stakes are even higher. At this point, it’s anyone’s game. Either team could take the win.

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. No fucking way do I want that to happen.

But as the seconds run out on the clock, the tension and stress amp up.

I glance over at Coach Porter’s stone-faced expression as he frowns at the clock. Time is running out for us.

With two minutes left, we get ready for another face-off.

He calls out the players he wants on the ice.

“Williams, you’re up.” He looks at me. “You too, St. George.”

I stare at him, confused. I run plays with Xander in practice, and I’ve played a handful of times with him during games, but this isn’t my usual line.

“Kovalenko usually plays on this line,” I say.

“He’s smoked from that hit he took against the boards, so you’re up.” Coach Porter speaks without hesitation, like I’m the most obvious choice.

Despite the nerves throttling me, I stand up and move toward the ice. Before I turn, Coach Porter steps over to me.

“New York’s not expecting you to be out there. You know why?”

I start to shake my head, but then it hits me.

“Because I’m the old guy on the second line coming off a knee injury,” I say. “They don’t think I’ll be a threat.”

Coach Porter’s eyes flicker. “Exactly. But I know you, St. George. I’ve seen the kind of threat you can be. Go out there and show them.”

His words of encouragement send a fresh wave of determination through me.

The second my skates touch the ice, my focus sharpens. There’s a current of electricity running through me. I’m like a caged animal aching to break free, willing to destroy anything that comes in my path.

When the puck lands, Xander takes possession and speeds off. I head after him, pumping my legs harder than I ever thought I could. I slice across the ice, the edges of my skates like razors.

The Wolverines players are having a hard time keeping up with me. A couple of them mutter a curse when I maneuver around them. I fight a smile. It feels really fucking good to prove them wrong, to show them that this old guy can run their asses off.

I think of all the training Maddy put me through. How she pushed me out of my comfort zone and worked me to the bone. How I wouldn’t be able to do any of this right now if it hadn’t been for her.

My heart hammers in my chest. This is all because of her.

The seconds on the clock wind down. Less than a minute now.

Adrenaline fires up inside of me. It feels like jet fuel is pumping through my veins. I’m on edge, hyperfocused on the puck.

I watch Xander zero in on the Wolverines net, but he can’t get a clean shot with how their defense is all over him.

We’re down to thirty seconds left in the game now. My heart rate is off the charts. Xander needs to take this shot, or we’ll be headed into overtime.

But then he locks eyes with me and passes the puck over. Ten seconds left in the game.

None of the Wolverines players are covering me because they were so focused on Xander and everyone else.

They underestimated me because I’m the old, injured guy. They didn’t think I’d be capable of much.

Determination and excitement surge through me like a freight train. I slap the puck toward the net and hold my breath.

The Wolverines goalie raises his glove, but he’s a millisecond too late. The puck lands in the net right before the final seconds of the game run out.

We won.

I throw my stick in the air and scream, but I can’t even hear myself. The sound in the arena is deafening. All the fans are on their feet, screaming and cheering.

My teammates crash into me, and I fall onto the ice, a huge grin on my face.

“Holy fuck, St. George! Did you just win the Stanley Cup with a slap shot?” Xander hollers.

“I think I did.” I still can’t believe it. It all happened so fast, but it also felt slow motion too. Like I was in a dream.

This is a dream. I just scored the winning goal during the Stanley Cup finals.

Emotion lodges in my throat as my teammates scream and cheer. After a while, they help me up.

“Back-to-back Stanley Cup champions, baby!” Theo yells as he smacks my helmet.

“Fuck yeah!” Del hollers.

“All because of this guy!” Sam hollers.

Tears burn my eyes. The emotion in this moment is too much. This moment I’ve worked my whole life for. This moment that almost didn’t happen.

I look past my teammates and see Maddy standing and cheering for me, tears in those beautiful stormy eyes.

I skate over to her and press my hand against the glass. She presses her hand against mine.

She sniffles. “You did it, Ryker. You’re a Stanley Cup champion. The Bashers won because of you.”

I smile and shake my head. “No. We won because of you, Maddy.”

Her lips part, and her breath catches.

“We did it. You trained us. You helped us play at our best.” I swallow back the emotion surging through me. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Her smile turns wobbly. My heart skids in my chest. This woman. I love her so damn much.

“Meet me on the ice,” I say.

She hesitates. “Now?”

I chuckle. “Yes. Now.”

She walks out of the stands. I weave through the crowd that’s gathered on the ice as I skate over to meet her.

Del nods at me. “You’re the MVP, St. George.”

“Thanks, man. You played like a madman tonight.” I turn and see Blomdahl. “So did you.”

He pats my shoulder. “Thanks for scoring that goal. I really wasn’t in the mood to head into sudden death overtime to break that tie.”

I laugh. I spot Abby and Emma on the ice hugging Coach Porter.

Emma waves at me. I skate up to her and give her tiny fist a bump. Abby smiles as she takes a photo of us together.

“Want my gloves?” I ask Emma.

Her eyes go wide, and she nods. I hand them to her.

“Mom, can I bring these to show and tell at school?”

Abby chuckles. “Sure, honey.”

I look up at Coach Porter. “Thanks for putting me out there. I just…” I stammer, emotions getting the better of me. “I wanted to make it to the finals so bad for so long. But it felt out of reach.”

“But you’re here. And you earned it,” he says.

I swallow hard and nod.

“Feels really damn good proving everyone wrong, doesn’t it?” he says with a gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah. It does.”

He gives my shoulder a tap, then rejoins Abby and Emma.

I look over and see Maddy on the edge of the rink. I rush over to her and grab her hand, leading her onto the ice.

Her face is flushed, and her eyes are teary as she gazes around at the chaos around us. The ice is crowded. Everyone is out here—players, coaches, team staff, reporters, photographers, family, and friends. The air in the arena is electric from the fans cheering and screaming.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“This is remarkable,” Maddy murmurs. She turns to me, beaming. “Look at what you did, Ryker. All of this is because of you.”

Her voice shakes with emotion. I swallow back the lump in my throat

“And you.” I cradle her face in my hands and give her a slow, soft kiss.

When we break apart, I gaze down at her. “For the longest time, I thought that winning the Cup would be the greatest joy in my life. But it’s not. It’s having you in my life.”

Her eyes shine with tears.

“I love you, Maddy. I love you so much, I can hardly breathe sometimes.”

“I love you so much too.”

The trophy appears on the ice. Someone claps a hand on my back.

I turn and see Coach Porter. “You should be the first to hold it.”

I grab Maddy’s hand and walk her over to the trophy. My heart pounds as I look at the massive, shiny trophy. When I think about how my name will be etched in it forever, tears burn in my eyes. I shake my head in disbelief.

I pick up the trophy and hold it over my head. The crowd goes nuts. I swallow back the sob in my throat at how insane this moment is. For so long, it felt impossible, but it’s actually happening.

I look at Maddy. “Because of you.”

She flashes a wobbly smile at me. I set the trophy down and see my parents and siblings standing on the edge of the ice. I motion for them to come over. They’re all crying and smiling.

When I hug my parents, the tightness in my chest is almost too much to handle.

“This is just as much for you as it is for me,” I say to them, my voice shaky. “Thank you for all the sacrifices you made so that I could play hockey.”

My parents squeeze me tight.

“Oh, honey. We’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Mom says.

“We’re so proud of you, son,” Dad says.

They wipe their eyes and step back so I can hug Anna and Nick.

“Ryker! You did it!” Anna squeals. She steps aside so Nick can hug me too.

He grins at me. “Congrats, big brother.” He glances over at the trophy.

“You’re gonna be here too someday,” I say to him.

He looks at me, his eyes bright. “I hope so.”

I turn back to Maddy, who’s standing off to the side, watching with a warm look on her face. I pull her into my arms.

“Is this moment everything you hoped it would be?” she asks.

“It’s even better because you’re here with me.” I kiss her.

When she leans back, fresh tears tumble down her cheeks.

I swipe my thumb against her wet skin. “Happy tears?”

She nods and sniffles, her smile wobbly once more. “So, so happy.”

I kiss her again, then scoop her up and haul her over my shoulder.

“Ryker!” she squeals. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you someplace quiet. It’s pretty chaotic out here, and I want a moment alone with my girlfriend.”

I head for the tunnel and down the hall. When I reach a quiet corner, I put her down. We can still hear the cheers and screams echoing in the arena.

She’s fighting a smile as she looks up at me. “Was that totally necessary to carry me?”

I shake my head. “Nope. But that’s the effect you have on me, princess. You make me do things I never thought I’d do. Like skate as fast as a figure skater. And win the Stanley Cup. And fall in love with the woman of my dreams.”

Her expression softens. She presses her body against me. “What other things do you plan on doing?”

“Anything. As long as it’s with you.”

I capture her mouth in a slow, teasing kiss that makes my heart go crazy. She moans into my mouth. God, that sound. I’ll never, ever, ever get sick of it.

“How did I get so lucky?” she says softly.

I gaze at the woman I love more than anything else in this world. “I’m the lucky one, princess.”