Chapter 30
Caden
The buzzer to the final period sounds and the crowd screams as the puck goes flying, one of the Boston players on my tail as I shoot across the ice into an open position.
“Shaw!” I bellow, and he instantly fires the puck in my direction, allowing me to strike it over to Brett, giving him his first moment in the Frozen Four Final.
After beating Michigan four-to-one in the penultimate game of the championship, it’s now Carter U versus Boston for this year’s NCAA title.
The scoreboard’s sitting at two-one in our favour, and Coach has finally released some of the younger players, allowing them to experience the chaos and adrenaline of an NCAA final, while a couple of the seniors take a moment to jump out of play.
After scoring one of the four goals that cinched us the win in the semi-final, it’s clear to see that underclassman Brett is a solid player.
And now he needs to experience a final so that he can prove it to himself, too.
Sometimes it’s not until you accomplish something that you realise you can accomplish something.
“Caden!” he shouts back to me, and I loop the Boston goal in the other direction, helping him wrangle the puck away from our opposition after they ram him up against the boards.
I trap the puck and shoot it backward, knowing that Brett will immediately chase it, and then a Boston player is on my ass, shoving my shoulder before intercepting.
I huff out a laugh when my skates hold solid, my stance unaffected as he shoves my chest.
Then I knock his gloves away from my pecs. “I only let my girl touch me like that, man.”
He holds up his glove to give me the finger, and I barrel past him, relocating the puck.
Shaw has resumed possession and he’s trying to knock it into the Boston net, but they’ve got three players defending the goal, not to mention the goalie in a defensive down-stance.
The puck rebounds off of the goalie’s board, allowing Shaw to smack it again, but this time a Boston d-man catches it and, in less than a second, it’s across the rink.
“Shit!” Brett hollers beside me, his voice deep as we pelt after the puck, and my eyes flick to Austin as he hunches down, getting into a butterfly to protect the net.
The Boston player fires the puck too wide, and Hughes is on it, racing it back to the centre, but then he’s shoved and slammed up against the boards as Boston tackle him and steal it back.
Hughes is red in the face as he gets back on his skates, breathing hard as we shoot down to Austin.
“You okay?” I shout over to him, because he definitely does not look okay, but he gives me a quick nod, and I slap his shoulder in solidarity.
Brett’s already beside Austin, protecting the goal as we zone in on the puck, but just as Hughes finally gets it loose, one of the Boston players smashes it into the net.
“Fuck!” Hughes exclaims, the scoreboard flashing as it becomes two-two, but our supporters start pounding the plexi, and he gives them the nod as they shout you got this!
We reposition, the puck’s set loose, and then we’re in the final three minutes of play, the ice blurring beneath our blades as we race across it, the crowd going wild.
“One more goal!” Benson bellows down to us, the camera-people beside him tracking our every move, and I roll my shoulders at the perfectly timed reminder that my girl is watching this live back home.
“One more goal,” I murmur gruffly, my heart pounding as I chase the puck, and then I’m grabbing it and whipping it forward, shouting victoriously as it reaches Brett.
He tosses it straight to our centre-forward, who swings it like a pro to the bottom of the ice, but the Boston goalie kicks his board out, blocking the hit and sending it back.
I race forward, Hughes beside me, and I slam the puck toward the net, shoving one of the Boston guys with the side of my shoulder as he kicks my blades, trying to tackle me.
“Top right!” Hughes shouts to me, our players fighting for their lives in front of the Boston net, each tap from their sticks almost connecting as they scramble with the Boston defensemen for puck possession.
The music blares as the crowd pounds on the boards, screaming for a goal as we reach the one-minute countdown, and then my adrenaline shoots through the roof as the puck flies back to us, fast and furious.
There’s no time to think as my blades tear up the ice, my eyes totally focused on the puck as I whip my stick forward.
It connects with a deafening smack, and the whole arena explodes, the entire audience on their feet and screaming as the puck smashes into the back of the net.
And I drop my stick as I watch it connect, the breath leaving my lungs as the final buzzer sounds, and the arena erupts as the scoreboard flashes, all of my teammates flooding the rink.
The guys on the benches jump over the boards and I pull off my helmet as they smash into me, my chest pumping hard as I try to calm my breathing, and my eyes stinging like crazy as I tug off my gloves.
I shove my gloves under my biceps and press the heels of my palms into my eyes, breathing out a husky laugh when I hear Austin shout over to me, “We did it, man!”
I shake my head and drop my hands, chuckling raspily as he shoulders over to me, and he barks with laughter as I tackle him to the ice, getting him in a good headlock as our teammates throwdown around us.
“You fuckin’ did it!” Benson hollers to us, all of the Carter U supporters going wild in the stands behind him, and I rake a hand back through my hair, my heart pounding like crazy as I take it all in.
The music, the lights, and the giant scoreboard above us, reading FINAL SCORE 3-2: CONGRATULATIONS CARTER RIDGE RANGERS!
“We fuckin’ did it!” Austin repeats, grabbing my shoulders as we get to our feet, and I rub a hand down my jaw because, yeah, we fucking did it.
We won the Frozen Four Final.
And my girl watched me score the winning goal.
“I need to call Winter,” I rasp, my voice deep as I catch my breath, the adrenaline of the last ten minutes still coursing through me and making my biceps flex.
“Yo, Coach! Throw Caden his phone,” Austin hollers toward the benches, and Benson gives him a dry look as he gestures to the row of identical iPhones laid out beside him.
I breathe out a laugh. “I’ll grab it.” And then I skate over to the benches, knowing that we’ve got about two minutes to catch our breath before NCAA protocol requires us to run through winner procedure.
I lean over the dividing board and grab my cell, grinning at the notifications – a million text messages from Winter filled with hearts and party poppers to celebrate our win.
I unlock it and hit the call button, blocking my other ear as the crowd hollers and cheers.
“Caden!” Winter squeals through the line, and my heart swells at the sound of her voice.
That sweet Kentucky lilt.
It’s exactly what I needed.
The line is muffled because the connectivity sucks inside the expanse of the arena, but I can hear her voice and she knows that we won, so that’s good enough for me.
“You see that, baby?!” I rasp, still catching my breath and swiping the sweat from my forehead.
“You were so amazing!” she exclaims. “I’m so freaking proud of you, Caden!”
I drop my gaze and shake out my fringe, trying to hide my smile from Benson beside me.
And then she squeals, “Oh my goodness, Caden, look up! The camera’s zoomed in on you, baby!”
I can’t help but chuckle as I glance at the camera, and a smirk tugs at my lips as I hold up three fingers.
And I listen to Winter’s soft intake of breath as Austin grins and skates up beside me.
“Caden,” she whispers, that sunshine-smile in her beautiful voice.
“Yeah, baby,” I murmur back to her. She knows exactly what that means.
“What’s that?” Austin asks, still breathless from the adrenaline. He taps my fingers with his and says, “Three fingers to signify our goals?”
I shake my head, still looking at the lens, knowing that my girl is looking right back at me.
“No,” I tell him simply. “It’s a W for Winter.”