Page 198 of The Maxwell Brothers

Here was the tricky part about being a goalie. You had to decide if the puck was going to the left or the right before you could see its course. If you waited long enough to know the direction, it was too late. It would be a goal before you had a chance to block it.

The left.

I based the decision on gut and experience, and I lurched in that direction the next second. Holding my breath, I stretched my hands forward, gripping the stick tightly. I blocked the puck, sending it right to Steve. My body was alive with adrenaline, but I wasn’t in celebratory mode yet. It was still 3-2 for us, and we had one minute left. Not a lot of time for our opponents to score, but I’d seen it happen before.

This was not the time to relax or declare victory.

I broke the cardinal rule and stood still, hunched forward. Thirty seconds left.

I kept my eyes on the puck. McLaren took it from Steve and was speeding toward me once again.

Twenty seconds.

I couldn’t multitask when I was so full of adrenaline. I needed to focus or else risk taking my eyes off the puck.

Five seconds.

He was twenty feet away. He wouldn’t risk scoring from that distance.

Zero seconds.

We won!

My muscles spasmed before I became aware of the burning in my calves. The pounding in my eardrums continued, but it was different now. I could hear the surrounding sounds, not just my heartbeat.

The crowd erupted in cheers. The team, including Jett, surrounded me.

Yeah, this right here, this feeling of victory was what I lived for. My pulse thrummed to the same rhythm the fans were chanting.

“Fucking hell, we did it,” I said.

“Welcome back, man,” Steve yelled.

I looked at the stands, packed with fans celebrating, waving flags, hats, and other paraphernalia. Their happiness filled me with a particularly strong pride, and usually it was enough to make my evening, but now something was missing.

Someonewas missing.

Kendra.

I wanted to see her in the stands and share this joy with her. I'd never wanted that with anyone I’d been with, but I craved it with her.

One by one we exited the ice and headed directly to the locker room.

"Man, this was a great game. Way to make a comeback," Steve said.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

Jett smiled as he clapped my shoulder. "You did a great job."

"Thanks," I said.

"Dude, you're going out with us, right?" Steve said.

I nodded. "Of course. I want to celebrate this. It feels fucking amazing to be back on the ice."

"We're happy to have you back, dude," Matthew added. He was our center and a damn genius in face-offs.

The next half hour was the usual madness of showering, changing, and then stopping to sign a few things for fans before we headed out to whatever bar we decided on. This time we went to an Irish pub in the area. We avoided sport bars as a rule.