Page 28

I skate onto the ice, my mind reeling with everything that's happened over the past few days. The bruises Elliot’s punches left behind, opening up to Rachel, letting Elliot’s reaction get to me, being so vulnerable, and just the heaviness of everything has bogged down my head. But instead of drowning in it, I won’t let the anger control me. I’m using it to my advantage.

The arena is going wild; we have a pretty big group of fans here cheering us on today. They roar through the crowd as the second line takes our positions for the first puck drop. The Gators are a tough team, but I’m confident. There is no way we’re losing to them. With all the energy I have left, I make sure I am centered, focused, sharp, and ready to take on anyone who gets in my way. Once the puck hits the ice, my body moves on instinct; every hit and every pass is like muscle memory.

A couple of minutes into the first period, I get my first chance to intercept a pass mid cycling and pass it to a forward with a clear view of the Gators’ goalie. My muscles tense as he fires the puck toward the net. The shot smacks the metal post, ringing out through the arena like a gunshot. Close, but not enough. I shake it off, not letting it get to me. Not tonight.

I find my rhythm throughout the game. I dig into every move with every ounce of energy I possess. My anger isn’t blinding me anymore, it’s motivation. I feed off its intensity, channeling all of it into every second of the game. By the second period, I’ve got two assists, and we are up by two. My teammates are on fire, meeting me spark by spark.

The third period starts 5-3 in our favor, but New Orleans is desperate to close the gap. I see an opening, seize the puck from their center, and cut hard down the ice. I track their goalie in my peripherals, and fire off the shot before he can react. The puck slaps across the crease, hitting the top shelf, and our fans erupt in cheers as we take home a 6-3 win.

After the game, buck wild as always, guys shouting, laughing, the victory spreads through every corner. Normally, I’d join in, but tonight, I’m feeling distant. My mind is on Rachel. It’s too late to talk to Lily—she’s probably already asleep, but I still want the connection.

Oren: Just finished the game.

Beat the Gators 6-3.

Two assists, one goal.

Wish I could’ve talked

to Lily tonight. I hope

she’s doing okay.

Rachel: She’s great, just got

her down. She missed

you today, though.

Congrats on the win,

Oren. You must’ve been

amazing out there.

I smile, the words making me feel a real type of way. One I certainly didn’t expect.

Oren: Thanks. I was channeling

some…stuff. Needed to

clear my head. But I’d

rather have been with you two.

Rachel: We’ll see you soon.

Just take care of yourself, okay?

I know things have been

tough lately, but you’re

doing a good job, Oren.

Really.

The knot that’s been in my chest since Elliot's fist first connected with my jaw finally loosens just a little.

The next day, we have a team meeting before heading to the airport as a team for our flight back to Atlanta. My body’s still riding the high from last night’s win, channeling the negative energy in my mind elsewhere, putting some of the self doubt to bed. The flight back to Atlanta is smooth, uneventful, but as soon as we land, Coach Nolan pulls me aside.

“You’re staying at the hotel tonight,” he says firmly. “Rest up. We need you sharp for tomorrow.”

I nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing. He’s right. I need to be prepared for this game against Atlanta. But it still sucks, another night not spent with Rachel and Lily.

Once I get to the hotel, I toss my bag on the bed and immediately grab my phone, calling Rachel. It barely rings before she answers.

“Hey,” her voice comes through, soft but a little distracted. I imagine her moving around, probably getting settled after work, attempting to unwind and catch up at the same time.

“Hey,” I reply, leaning back against the pillows. “I just got to the hotel, and Coach has us on lockdown for the night. I was thinking…maybe you and Lily could come over?”

There’s a pause, and I know what she’s going to say before she even starts. “Oren, I don’t want to upset her routine. She’s settled for the night, and it’s been a long day.”

I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Okay. I just really wanted to see her. You know, spend all the time I can with her while I’m in town.”

“I know,” Rachel says, her voice softening a little. “But trust me, she’s in that mood where any change will become a disaster.”

I chew on my lip for a second, then switch tactics. “Okay, how about this? You take tomorrow night off and bring Lily to the game. Let her see her dad in action on the ice. I mean, I think she deserves that, right?”

Rachel lets out a small laugh. “She’s seven months old, Oren. I don’t think she will even know if you are on the ice.”

I chuckle, but there’s an edge of seriousness in my voice when I respond. “Maybe not, but I want her there. I want her to be part of this. I mean, come on, Rachel. You two can sit in the stands and watch the game. It’ll be fun.”

She goes quiet for a moment as she weighs the pros and cons. I take the silence as an opportunity to keep pushing. “Think about it—she gets to see her dad do what he loves. And you…you just enjoy yourself, enjoy the game, and relax a little.”

“I don’t know, Oren,” she finally says, but there’s less resistance in her voice. I’ve got her on the hook, now I just need to reel her in.

“Come on, Rach,” I say, my voice dropping to a very persuasive tone. “I know it’s not exactly part of the routine, but routines can be broken for something special. And this—me playing hockey—it’s who I am. It’s something I want Lily to know, to see.”

There’s a beat of silence, then I hear a soft sigh. “Alright,” she says, another small sigh escaping her. “Fine. We’ll come to the game. But if Lily starts fussing, we’re leaving early.”

“Deal.” I grin, relief washing over me. “Thank you, Rachel. It will be great.”

“See you tomorrow, Oren,” she replies, her voice warm now.

We hang up and I’m feeling lighter, knowing that tomorrow won’t just be another game. It’s going to be something amazing to share with Lily. The rest of the night flies by and by the time I go to sleep there is an anticipation growing in me. One that goes beyond tomorrow being gameday.

In the morning I wake up earlier than usual, a nervous energy buzzing under my skin. Rachel and Lily will be there, sitting in the stands for the first time. My daughter will watch me play for the first time, and even though she’s only almost eight months old, this feels monumental. Like one of the most important games of my life.

I grab my phone, arranging for Rachel and Lily to have the best seats right on the glass behind our bench. She could get in with a press pass and move on, but I want this to be special. I imagine Rachel’s face when she sees the tickets, how she’ll probably roll her eyes at me for going overboard, but deep down, will be excited because I know how much she loves hockey. It doesn’t matter, I want them close. I want to see and feel them there with me. I send her the tickets with a quick message.

Oren: See you on the glass.

The day passes in a blur as the team reports to the rink, and I go through my usual routine. Suit off, gear on, tape, stretch. But all the while, I’m counting down to when I can look up and see them there watching. And when it finally happens, the roar of the arena is thousands of voices blending together into a deafening hum. My heart pounds, adrenaline surging through me, but none of that matters right now. Not the noise, not the fans, not even the game itself.

The only thing on my mind is finding them. I skate toward the bench, my eyes scanning the crowd with laser focus. I know exactly where they’re supposed to be, and then I see them. Rachel, sitting in her seat, holding Lily on her lap. Both of them in matching jerseys— my jersey. The sight slams into me with more force than any hit I’ve ever taken on the ice. Rachel’s hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, her cheeks slightly pink from how cold the arena is. Lily is bundled in a tiny Red Wolves hat with a blanket over her little legs that I can tell are still kicking in excitement. Both of them wearing my name. My number. For a moment, I’m so overwhelmed by it that I can’t breathe. I fucking love it.

Pride. Love. Maybe both start to swell in my chest, making it tighten. I’ve had hockey highs before, amazing goals, impossible assists, unwinnable wins—but this? Seeing them here, claiming me proudly, like I mean something to them? It’s a whole different level of feeling. Like everything I’ve been fighting for, everything I’ve worked toward suddenly makes sense.

Rachel catches my eye, and the smile that spreads across her face is like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins. She’s glowing, a mixture of pride and something else—something soft, something that reaches inside me and grabs hold. Lily’s chubby little hand is waving in the air, and Rachel helps her, lifting her tiny arm higher, waving back at me with a smile that says more than words ever could.

My heart stumbles in my chest, I’m grinning like an idiot, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I lift my stick in a small salute. It’s instinct, pure and simple. I want them to know I see them and understand that I love that they are here. For a second, none of the fans even exist. It’s just the three of us in this giant arena. I can still tell that the noise and chaos is there, but we are completely separate from it.

I skate out onto the ice, as their eyes on me lights a fire in my veins. I’ve played hundreds of games, thousands of repetitions of being on the first line, but this one feels bigger. I want to give them something to cheer for. Something to be proud of.

I set my sights on the game. I’ve already decided that every move I make, every pass, every hit, every goal, all of it will be for them. Because for the first time ever, I’m not just playing for myself or my team. I’m playing for Rachel. For Lily. For our family.

The game starts, and I’m in the zone. I get a few solid shots on goal. It’s one of those games where everything just clicks, where every move feels like it’s by design, like the ice belongs to me. Until it doesn’t.

I dig my skates into the ice, propelling myself forward, chasing the loose puck down with everything I’ve got. I barely register the shadow growing larger, entering my space, but it’s too late. Bam.

The impact is brutal, like getting hit by a freight train. The force knocks the wind out of me while also sending me airborne, my body slamming into the ice with a sickening thud. Blinding, splintering pain shoots up my leg. The world tilts violently, the lights of the arena swirling into a kaleidoscope of chaos that starts to gray around the edges. I try to get up, to just move, but the pain in my leg is unbearable, shooting straight from my hip into the laces of my skate and radiating out through my entire body like fire. The sound of the crowd is muted and distorted like I’m underwater.

I grit my teeth, telling myself to push through it and get back in the game. But nothing happens. My body won’t respond. The pain is overwhelming, suffocating and my mind can’t make my body move or think clearly. I blink harder, trying to clear the darkening haze seeping into my vision. The arena lights are too bright, burning into my retinas, making it impossible to focus on anything. I vaguely hear people calling out my name, but I barely register the voices in the jumble ringing in my ears. All of my senses start to dull and blur into one overwhelming sensation of sounds and colors. And none of it makes sense.

I try to take an even breath, something to calm me down, but it’s like my lungs won’t expand. My chest is tight, too tight. The mass jumble of nonsense starts to fade. The crowd, the ice, the pain, my girls. It’s all gone as a thick, heavy darkness pulls me under. Until I’m left with nothingness.