Page 58 of Sweet as Puck

The puck spun away, and I was there to scoop it up.

My focus narrowed.

Time slowed.

I skated hard, tearing toward the goal with the puck glued to my stick.

The Kings’ defence were on my tail.

They were breathing down my neck.

I pushed closer, coming within a foot of the goal, and I wristed it, sending the puck sailing high and tight over the goalie’s leg. It was in exactly the same spot I’d scored one on him earlier.

We were up by one.

The buzzer sounded. Music filled the stadium, our goal song thumping through the stands.

My heart thundered. Heat radiated off me, steam rising from under my pads. My muscles had that well-used ache that came after a hard-fought period. We were close. We had the win in the bag if we could hold them off for the final twenty minutes of the game.

Anything could happen.

The third period dragged. It was a high-scoring game, 7–to–5 with just under five minutes to go. There was too much time left to run down the clock. We also had a point to prove. Novotny was out for the rest of the game, and even though it had been a dirty hit, the refs missed it. We not only wanted the win, but to kick their asses too.

Coach waved us out, and Gauthier, Hewitt and I clambered over the boards, hitting the ice hard. I got into the fray and duked it out to get the puck.

We were back and forth, in and out of each other’s attack zones, the game fast moving but slow at the same time.

Rune was on alert. He was in constant motion, guarding the net.

We were in our defensive zone, the Kings trying to get another one in.

Hewitt skated in close and stretched, reaching for the puck.

He got the barest touch.

But it was enough.

He passed it to Gauthier.

Our captain charged forward, mowing down the yards to the blue line.

He fired off a bullet to Cohen.

I dodged away from the Kings’ defence, getting ready to receive.

Cohen flicked a wrister.

It was the perfect pass.

My tape kissed the puck.

I slapped it at the goal.

Nothing but net.

I blinked. Three goals. A hat trick.

A sea of purple, silver and black converged on me. My teammates tackled me, wrapping me up in their arms, Gauthier lifted me straight off the ice, spinning me as a shower of back slaps and thumps on my helmet rained down on me. My cheeks hurt with the grin stretched wide across my mouth and I shouted out, holding my stick above my head, my arms raised high. Elation filled me and I floated on an endorphin rush until I was in the clouds. After everything that had gone down, all the angst and damage that the implosion of my fling with Minns had caused, this was a weight lifted off me.