Page 31 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

Chapter twenty

Blake

E uphoria. That’s the only word for it.

It’s been one week. One week since she let me back in, but it still feels like yesterday. I’m on cloud twelve. Not cloud nine - cloud twelve.

And still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

I want more. I always want more when it comes to her.

More of her laughter, the kind that sneaks up on her and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners.

More of her touch, soft and familiar, yet electric in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself.

More of those quiet moments where she looks at me like she’s finally seeing me again - not the past, not the mistakes, just me.

I never knew I could crave someone like this, like an ache I don’t want to ease.

I can’t stop smiling.

It’s crazy. I feel like a teenager again - like all the awkward, giddy, butterfly moments are flooding back in full force. She’s mine. She’s really mine. Again. I still can’t believe it sometimes.

We’ve had a few ‘secret’ dates. We went on long walks and had lots of quiet talks. It’s like we’re relearning each other all over again, and somehow it feels even better than before. Every touch, every glance, every moment feels like it matters in ways it never did back then.

God, I can’t wait for more. The best part? We can’t keep our hands off each other. She’ll roll her eyes and call me insufferable, but the second we’re alone, she’s the one pulling me in, pressing her lips to mine.

There’s something different about this now.

Back then, we dove in headfirst, reckless and sure.

Now, we tread carefully, like we’re both afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing we’re building.

But even with the caution, I feel it. That pull.

That need hasn’t lessened, not even after all these years.

And yeah, we’re keeping it a secret.

For now.

Looking at it now, it’s kind of funny… Back when we started dating, I was the one who asked to keep it a secret from Keith, and now, it’s her.

If it were up to me, I’d go straight to Keith and tell him and everyone that I love her. And that we are together.

Anyway, that aside, I’m just giddy. I can’t help it. I feel like I’m walking around in a haze of happiness like I’m constantly on the edge of a laugh or a grin, and no matter what I’m doing, my brain keeps drifting back to her.

I don’t know how I got so lucky. All I can think of now is going back to….

And then -

Whistle.

The sharp, piercing sound cuts through the rush of my thoughts, snapping me back to reality.

Right. I’m on the ice. The game.

I shake my head, clearing the haze of happiness clouding my focus. The bright lights of the arena glare down at me, reflecting off the ice. The crowd is roaring, the boards vibrating with the force of the fans on their feet - cheering, chanting, and buzzing with nervous energy.

I glance at the scoreboard. 2-2. Twenty minutes left on the clock.

We’re up against the Ridgefield Thunder -the winners of the other division semifinals, fighting for the division finals. Last week, we took the Blue Hawks down in the best-of-seven series. This? This is another best-of-seven - the division finals - and we’re locked in a war on ice.

They’re tough, aggressive, and relentless.

I tighten my grip on my stick, eyes locked on the puck as the Thunder’s center wins the face-off. They’re coming in fast, their left winger breaking past our defense.

My entire body tenses as the puck flies across the ice, passed from stick to stick, the Thunder pushing hard into our zone.

The shot comes quick - too quick - a slapshot from just outside the crease.

I drop low, my pads sealing off the five-hole as I snap my glove out - caught.

The crowd explodes.

But there’s no time to breathe. The moment the puck is back in play, they’re at it again, pressing hard. I block another shot with my chest, the puck ricocheting off my pads. Another comes. I read it, shift right, and deflect it with my blocker.

But then….

A bad bounce. A rebound I can’t control.

The Thunder’s forward crashes into the net, his stick catching the loose puck, and before I can react - it’s in.

2-3, Thunder.

The arena goes silent, and then excitement from the Thunder fans fills the arena.

For a second, I just kneel there, heart hammering, my breath coming fast inside my mask. But then…

The puck drops at center ice. Liam lunges forward, battling for possession. The Thunder center gets a stick on it first, flicking it back to their defenseman.

They reset quickly, passing between their blue liners, looking for an opening.

Then - Nick charges in.

He extends his stick, poking the puck just enough to throw off their rhythm. Liam seizes the moment, stealing it clean and taking it off the ice. He fakes left, dodging a Thunder forward, and snaps a quick pass to Jackson on the wing.

Jackson speeds past the blue line, but a Thunder defenseman is already on him, closing in fast. He tries to weave through -

Stick check.

The puck snaps loose, bouncing off the boards.

A Thunder player -#86 - swoops in, grabbing possession. He pivots, looking for an outlet pass, but before he can react…

Liam strips the puck right off his stick.

Clean. Fast. Brutal.

Liam cuts inside, faking a pass to Tomas, drawing a defender out of position. He threads a sharp pass to Logan, who’s lurking near the blue line.

Logan catches it, takes two strides forward…

Then, boom.

A Thunder player slams him into the boards. The crowd gasps. The puck wobbles loose, spinning across the ice.

For a second, it’s chaos.

Sticks clashing. Bodies shoving. The puck bouncing from blade to blade…

Tomas spots it first.

He snatches it, cutting between two Thunder players like they aren’t even there. He angles toward the net, gliding just inside the right circle. A defenseman lunges at him, trying to block the lane.

Tomas doesn’t hesitate.

He drops the puck back - quick, sharp - to Liam.

Liam fakes a shot, making the goalie shift…

Then slides it across to Jackson on the left wing.

Jackson rears back…

Shoots.

The puck rockets through a mess of sticks, bodies…

The goalie lunges…

Too late.

The net ripples.

GOAL.

3-3.

Yes.

Our bench erupts. Sticks slam against the boards. The Avalanche fans roar back to life. I let out a sharp breath.

The final minutes of regulation tick down, but neither team finds the back of the net.

Now – it’s sudden death.

The puck drops, and the battle for control is instant, frantic. Liam lunges in, fighting for the faceoff, but the Thunder center manages to swipe it back. They regroup fast, their defenseman sending a quick pass up the boards.

I track the movement, my entire body coiled tight, ready.

They enter our zone - two forwards crashing in, a third trailing behind.

Their winger fakes a shot, then snaps a hard pass across the crease to the other side.

I push off, sliding out just in time as he shoots.

I drop - the puck ricochets off my blocker.

It bounces right to a Thunder forward and he shoots again.

I barely react - throwing out my pad in desperation…. And save!

The rebound flies out toward the blue line. One of their defensemen snatches it, winding up for a bomb of a slapshot…

Logan dives - sticks out - and deflects the shot!

The puck skitters into the neutral zone, and Jensen jumps on it.

He takes off like a rocket.

Thunder scrambles, their defense backing up as Jensen crosses the blue line.

He fakes a shot - and drops a pass back to Nick.

Nick dangles, pulling a defender out of position before slipping the puck to Liam.

Liam.

The guy who’s been on fire all night.

I watch from my crease, heart in my throat.

Liam shifts the puck from forehand to backhand, his body tilting ever so slightly.

And I see it.

The opening.

He does too.

With a sharp cut, he angles himself just enough to fire - low, glove side.

The Thunder goalie reacts a second too late.

The puck flies past his glove, and kisses the post…

And slams into the net.

Goal.

4-3, Avalanche.

For half a second, the arena is silent.

Then - absolute chaos.

Our bench empties as the guys leap over the boards, screaming. Liam throws his arms up before getting mobbed by the team.

I rip off my mask, breathless, pulse hammering.

We did it.

One down, three more to go.

****

The locker room is electric. Laughter, cheers, the slap of hands against backs and helmets – oh, but we did it.

Liam’s still grinning like an idiot, and the guys keep roughing him up, shoving him playfully.

"Clutch, man. That was clutch," Ryan says, shaking Liam’s shoulders.

Liam smirks. "You know me. Always gotta keep it interesting."

"Yeah, yeah," James cuts in. "Just admit you blacked out and hoped for the best."

More laughter.

Coach steps in, arms crossed, a small smile on his face and the noise dies down.

"Good work out there, guys." His voice is firm, but there’s pride in it. "That’s how you fight. That’s how you finish.

You played with heart. You kept your heads when it mattered.

” He pauses, scanning us. “That’s what wins games.

That’s what gets you to the Cup. We’re not done.

The next game is in two days, and I want you all to be ready. No slacking. No celebrating too hard."

Some groans but mostly nods.

Coach’s gaze sweeps across the room again, then he jerks his chin. "Get some rest. We’ll break down plays tomorrow." He nods once. "Proud of you boys."

With that, he leaves, and the room erupts again.

I shake out my arms, letting the adrenaline fade, and start untying my skates. The conversation shifts - talking about the game, the crowd, the plays. Then…

"You’ve been different lately."

I glance up.

It’s Noah, leaning against his locker, arms crossed.

"Yeah," Ryan adds, grinning. "Less grumpy. More…," he gestures vaguely. "Floaty."

"Like you’ve got some kind of…, happiness disease," Tomas throws in, smirking.

I snort. "Happiness disease?"

"You’re smiling too much, man," Liam says, squinting at me like I’m an alien. "It’s freaking us out."

"Yeah," Tomas agrees. "So? You got a girlfriend or something?"

The room goes silent.

I smirk, shaking my head. “Or something.”

A chorus of oooohs ripples through the room.

Jackson tilts his head. “So, you’re not denying it?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

"He's got a girl!"

"No way -who?"

"Why didn’t you tell us?"

“Who is she??”

I just shake my head, laughing. "Not telling you."

Groans all around.

Connor grins, leaning forward. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. But how’s Nico, by the way?"

I pause, exhaling. "He’s doing alright now."

Two days ago, Nico had come down with the flu really badly. We had to take him to the hospital, just to be safe. That’s when I ran into Connor, coming out with his pregnant girlfriend.

I give him a nod. "Thanks for checking in."

Connor nods back. "Good. That kid’s tough."

I finish packing up, slinging my duffel over my shoulder. Just as I’m about to head out…

My phone rings.

I glance at the screen.

Whitney.

I don’t even try to stop smiling.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

The guys lose it.

"That’s her, isn’t it?"

"Look at his face - that’s her."

"Put it on speaker!"

I shake my head, laughing, and step away, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Hey, darlin’."

Her voice is warm. "I believe congratulations are in order. Congrats on your win."

"Thanks," I murmur, still smiling.

I pick up my bag, waving the guys off as I step out into the hall. "How are the kids? How’s Nico?"

"They’re fine," she says. "Nico’s much better now."

"Good," I say. "I was going to come by later…"

"Actually…!" She hesitates. "That’s not why I called."

I stop walking. My grip tightens around my duffel.

"What’s wrong?"

Silence.

"Whitney?"

She exhales. "It’s…, it’s…, just come home and see it yourself."

My pulse kicks up.

Something’s wrong.

"Whitney." My voice is firm. "Tell me."

But she doesn’t.

"Just come home, Blake."

And then the line goes dead.

My pulse kicks up. And I don’t like the way it makes my stomach twist.