Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
NOAH
“ I know you guys know what everyone is saying. I don’t need to repeat it to you.”
Coach is standing in front of all of us, excited energy radiating off him. The Knights are in a position no one thought we would be in at this point in the year.
With a few more wins, we could be looking at the playoffs, something that hasn’t happened in years. It’s so close, we can taste it. Everyone wants it.
But no one is saying it. We don’t want to jinx ourselves.
“The home crowd is going to be rocking tonight, so let’s go out there and play how I know we can play and bring home the W!”
“Alright, men.” Marcus calls all of us to the center of the locker room. “You heard Coach. We’ve played under pressure before, so let’s not let this get to us. Go out there and play Knights Hockey. Knights on three. One, two, three…”
“Knights!”
“Think we got this?” Graham asks as we head down the tunnel.
The noise of the crowd is loud and echoing around us.
“You know it.” I elbow him in the side as we hit the ice to music and lights flashing around the arena. Every fan is decked out in red for the game tonight.
This has always been one of my favorite parts of the game—the energy before it starts. It’s a living, breathing thing. A live wire of excitement.
I feed off it.
When the game gets tough, this is what I think about. About the fans.
A few Detroit faithful stand out in their black jerseys, but it’s almost all Nashville fans tonight.
“Detroit is a good team.”
“We’re better.” Graham shoots me a subtle wink as we skate to the bench.
The game starts and we easily take control. The way we’re moving as a team and anticipating each other’s moves is incredible. It feels easy.
Easier still when Marcus puts the biscuit in the basket in the middle of the first period. We keep that same energy during the first intermission and carry it into the second period.
Detroit doesn’t lie down. They’re battling it out and end up getting one past our goalie.
As soon as play starts again, I’m fighting for the puck. There’s no way I’m going to let this guy beat me. Until I’m flying through the air as my skates come out from under me. My momentum propels me forward too fast as I hit the pipes and go crashing into the boards.
That’s it.
Lights out.
Graham
I’m going to be sick.
Noah crumpling to the ice like that wasn’t natural. The angle at which he hit and flew into the boards is something I haven’t seen in all my years of playing hockey.
The guy who took him out is kneeling next to him, shaking him. I vaguely register the whistles around me as the refs skate over to him and push the opposing player off him. Medical personnel are already coming onto the ice to check on Noah.
And I’m glued to my spot on the ice.
Noah went down.
Even in all the hits he’s taken, he’s bounced up. Or at least showed signs of pain.
Now? He’s not moving. No rolling on the ice or clutching at his arm to indicate he’s okay, just hurt. Noah is curled up on the ice with his arm under him at an awkward angle.
Dropping down to one knee, I bury my head in my gloved fist. The anxiety burning through me is threatening to overwhelm me.
Noah has to be okay. There’s no way he can’t be.
“He’s going to be okay,” Marcus tells me. His words are fuzzy. There’s a buzzing in my brain as I watch Noah being loaded onto a stretcher.
“Is he?” I whisper.
The crowd is cheering for him as he’s taken off the ice. My guess? Headed straight to a local hospital. I can’t imagine what his parents must be feeling after watching him take that hit.
“Bring it in, guys!” Coach yells from the bench.
“Take a few minutes. Get your heads on straight and then we’ll restart the game,” one of the refs tells the coach as I skate to where the team is all huddled together.
“Look,” Coach Andrews starts, “watching that was hard. But Noah wouldn’t want us to get lost in our heads. I want us to band together, play hard, and win this game for Noah, okay?”
There’s muffled words from the team. I don’t know if anyone is going to be able to get their head in the game long enough to play the way we want to.
There’s still a period and a half left to play.
As the guys start to break apart and hit the ice, Coach calls me to him. “You going to be okay, Graham?”
“I…I’m worried about him.”
“I know. We all are. I promise, you can head to the hospital after the game and see him, okay?”
“Sure.”
I swallow around the bile building in my throat. Seeing Noah in the hospital might break me. Seeing him unconscious, maybe worse? I don’t know if I can handle it.
I don’t know if my heart can handle it.
“If you can’t go, tell me now. I can sit you right now.”
Taking a deep breath, I take the water bottle one of the trainers hands me.
I take a swig and clear my head. “No, Coach. I got this.”
Coach studies me, and whatever he sees on my face convinces him that I can do this. Because like he said, Noah wouldn’t want us to cave.
The only thing that keeps me going is the home crowd. They don’t sit down for the rest of the game. Their cheers give me the boost I need to push everything from my brain.
Hockey. Keeping the puck out of our zone so our team can put points on the scoreboard. That’s it. That’s the only thing that matters.
Nothing else.
And when the final horn sounds, what feels like hours later, the Knights come out on top.
Finally. Finally.
I somehow make it through the post-game interview. Every journalist asks about Noah and how it affected our play. I want to smack them. What do they think?
I don’t know what the film will show, but I don’t care.
All that matters is getting to Noah right now.