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JACK

FOUR MONTHS LATER

The large red numbers on the game clock count down, the score tied 2-2.

My lungs burn as I power forward, every muscle in my body in an uproar.

The skate blades bite into the ice with every stride, carving deep cuts into the surface as I tear down the wing.

It’s been a damn long road to get here, the championship game of the season.

One team will walk away from this arena tonight with nothing but broken pride.

The other will leave here Stanley Cup champion hopefuls.

No fucking way is that not gonna be us.

There’s a minute and twelve seconds left in the game.

The New York Renegades have been relentless for the whole game, and we’ve been battling for the past three periods.

Now we’re in a dead heat.

They just switched out their goalie, smug as hell thinking they’ve got us beat.

O’Callahan has been a goddamn thorn in my side tonight, on top of every one of my plays.

He thinks he’s got me figured out.

They all do.

But I still have moves they’ve never seen.

And now it’s time to bust them out and take the win.

They can’t rattle me.

Hell, I’ve been through the fucking ringer and come out so much stronger.

The first few weeks of fallout after my press conference sucked.

There were people who sympathized with me and there were vindictive fucks who decided I got my chance unfairly and should be punished.

I lost some endorsement deals just like Rex warned me I might.

But I did something good for another person, saved a life, and that means more to me than a paycheck for promoting fucking energy drinks.

Not many people like to talk about the positives, just the negatives.

I guess that’s an occupational hazard when you’re in the public eye.

People want to tear you down more than build you up if they think you got unfair advantages.

I’d argue that I suffered way more disadvantages than not, but some people are just narrow-minded, even after you acknowledge and apologize for your mistakes.

I know I’ll never change their minds.

But I’ll survive. I always do.

And there were still plenty of people who stuck by my side throughout this whole ordeal, which I’ll always be grateful for.

Jeremy stayed with me at my place for as long as he could, but with my travel schedule, it became too much to handle.

Sam helped out as much as he could, but we knew he needed a stable place to live with people who were solely focused on him.

His social worker came through a couple of months ago, finding him great foster parents to live with.

As the only kid in the house, he gets all their attention.

The foster mom also happens to be a child psychologist, so she’s been helping him work through his past issues.

I wish I’d had someone to talk to when I was his age, but my goal now is making sure he has what he needs to accomplish his goals.

I see him as much as I can and bring him to games when we’re playing at home.

He and his foster parents are here tonight, watching from one of the luxury boxes with Sam, Brixton, and Carter’s family.

Of course, Gran is with them.

Love that woman.

Her not-so-low-key obsession with me is fucking adorable.

My eyes sweep across the ice.

The Renegades defense closes in on me…

fast.

With forty-five seconds to go, there’s no time for mistakes or second chances.

Everything rides on these next plays.

Yells and catcalls deafen me, my old fans booing every time my stick hits the puck.

They can’t distract me, though.

Not tonight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I find Carter.

He’s focused, ready, and waiting.

I’ve had plenty of opportunities to steal the fame and the glory during my career, but somewhere along the way, I realized that it’s better to share the success instead of yank it away from everyone else.

I don’t want to be an island anymore.

These guys, this team, Oakland management and coaches, they’ve all been here for me through everything, my biggest cheerleaders.

A collective rock I swore I’d never need.

They never missed an opportunity to defend me to anyone who launched a character attack.

They are my found family, the ones I trust, the ones I want in my life.

Carter is the biggest supporter of them all.

And tonight I want to see him go down in a blaze of glory.

The defense collapses on me as I cross the blue line.

Their sticks battle mine in an attempt to steal the puck, but I’m too quick for them.

I fake a shot then pass the puck to Carter at the last second.

He doesn’t pause for even a second before he charges down the ice.

He smacks the puck and it snaps into the top corner of the net.

The goalie, Evans, didn’t even have time to flinch before the puck whizzed past his glove.

The goal horn sounds.

We’re up 3-2 with twelve seconds left.

“Fuck yeah,” I yell, pounding the air with my fist.

I catch Carter’s eye as he kicks up snow next to the net.

Christ, I’ve never seen him smile so big, and I’m halfway down the ice.

I sprint toward him, body slamming him so hard, I knock us both into the boards.

“You fucking legend,” I yell, hugging him tight.

“I knew that goal was yours!”

Carter laughs, breathless, eyes wide with realization that we’re not the team walking away from the arena tonight holding our dicks in our hands.

“Holy shit, we’re going to the finals!”

The rest of the team, led by Tate and Masterson, flies down the ice and crashes into us, sticks and helmets flying.

O’Callahan skates up to us and nods at me.

I break away from the pile of guys.

He holds out his hand.

“Congrats, man. That was a hell of a game. Oakland is lucky to have gotten you.”

I look at his hand and smile before pulling him in for a hug.

“Thanks, OC. Great game.”

His eyes darken.

“For the record, I’m really sorry, Jack. For everything you went through. You didn’t deserve any of it, and fuck anyone who tries to take your success away from you. You’re a fucking star. You always were. ”

OC skates away.

Carter slides forward and slaps me on the back.

“Feels good to bury the hatchet, yeah?”

My heart wobbles in my chest when I see the love in his eyes.

“Better than I ever imagined it would.”

We skate down the ice and take our places with the rest of the team as the announcer’s voice echoes through the rink a few minutes later.

The arena lights dim slightly as his voice comes over the speakers.

“The MVP of tonight’s championship game… with a game-winning goal and outstanding defensive play…Carter Van Kleef!”

A collective roar ripples through the crowd.

People start to chant Carter’s name.

I whistle through my teeth, the ice vibrating under our blades as the noise level explodes.

Carter shakes his head, disbelief in his stunned expression.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the cheers.

“You earned it,” I say, giving his arm a squeeze.

“Every bit of it. Own it.”

Carter’s eyes flicker to mine, something unspoken passing between us—something that goes deeper than the game, deeper than the victory.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Carter says in a husky voice.

“Yeah, you could’ve. You never needed me. You never needed anyone. You just had to prove it to yourself.”

His gaze holds mine, heat flushing my insides despite the freezing cold temperature on the ice.

The announcer calls Carter’s name to accept his trophy, and he leans just a little closer, his voice low.

“You’ve always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

My throat tightens.

“And I always will. Because I love you. ”

“I love you, too,” he says right before skating off.

As Carter lifts the MVP trophy in the air, the crowd erupts again.

I watch him standing up there as he’s celebrated by everyone here tonight, a superstar in his own right.

A sharp tug in my chest makes my heart lurch, and I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face if I tried.

This isn’t just victory.

This is so much more.

This is forever.

My forever.

Our forever.