Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
I stepped onto the ice for warm-ups, my skates cutting clean lines across the freshly smoothed surface from the Zamboni.
The rink smelled like home—that distinct mix of cold air, sweat, and rubber that had been part of my life since I was four years old.
Our first official game of the season always carried a special energy.
The stands were packed with students and alumni, and I could feel the buzz even during warm-ups.
Thursday night games were always a rush because we weren’t competing with the football crowd. Football reigned supreme at CFU, but hockey was a close second.
“Heads up, Captain!” Drew called before firing a puck my way.
I caught it on my stick, transitioning smoothly into a dangle before sending it back his way. We’d been doing this pre-game ritual since his freshman year, and it still settled my nerves every time.
“Looks like a good crowd tonight,” Liam commented as he skated past, nodding toward the bleachers that were filling up fast.
I scanned the crowd, my eyes automatically searching for one person in particular. Abby had texted that she and Sam were running late but would make it before puck drop. I tried not to feel disappointed when I didn’t spot her familiar face.
“Your girl’s not here yet?” Gordy asked, coming to a stop beside me and spraying ice across my skates.
“She’s on her way.”
“Good, because you play like shit when you’re distracted,” he said with a smirk.
“Fuck off,” I laughed, shoving his padded shoulder.
Coach Maxwell called us over, and we gathered around him for final instructions. Tonight we were playing against Bozeman Tech, a team we’d narrowly defeated last season. They had a solid defensive core and a goalie who seemed to have magnets in his gloves.
“Alright, gentlemen, time to focus,” Coach said. “Kane, start the pressure early. Farrell, be ready to pinch hard if they try to chip it out. Let’s start this season with a win.”
We tapped our sticks on the ice in agreement before dispersing for the final minutes of warm-up.
As I skated toward our bench, I glanced at the stands again, and a sense of giddiness unfurled in my gut when I spotted Abby and Sam making their way to seats in the second row.
Abby caught my eye and waved, her smile so beautiful it nearly took my breath away.
I raised my stick in acknowledgment, suddenly feeling like I could take on the entire opposing team single-handedly.
“There’s your girl,” Drew said, nudging me. “Try not to show off too much.”
“Says the guy who does a spin-o-rama every time he’s trying to impress a girl at the game,” I retorted.
“Hey, I’m a defenseman with many talents, including pulling the offensive, so sue me for wanting to show off my skills.”
The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of warm-ups, and we headed to the locker room for final preparations.
As we filed in, I couldn’t help but look back one more time at Abby.
She was wearing my away jersey—the black one with my number 88 on the back.
Our jerseys didn’t have our names on them because that would be too expensive to replace every year, but knowing she was wearing my number was enough.
Seeing her now, I had no doubt she would’ve looked incredible in our maroon home jerseys too.
Something primal and possessive flared in my chest at the sight.
I’d never let a girl wear my jersey, and now I couldn’t picture anyone but her in it.
In the locker room, I focused on getting my head in the game. As captain, the guys looked to me to set the tone. Coach gave his final pep talk, and then it was time.
“Alright boys,” I said as we huddled up. “Let’s fucking go!”
We lined up out of the tunnel and skated onto the ice to the cheers of the crowd, the adrenaline surging through my veins. I took my position for the opening face-off, grasping my stick above the ice as I squared off against Bozeman’s center. The referee dropped the puck, and the game was on.
I won the draw cleanly back to Drew, who quickly moved it up to Liam streaking along the boards. The first few minutes were fast-paced, both teams testing each other’s defenses without any clear chances.
Midway through the first period, Bozeman caught us on a bad line change. Their winger broke free and fired a shot that Gordy managed to deflect with his pad, but the rebound went straight to their trailing center who buried it before any of us could get back.
“Fuck,” I muttered as the red light flashed behind our net. 1-0 Bozeman.
“Shake it off,” Coach called from the bench. “Plenty of game left.”
We reset for the center ice face-off, and I could feel my competitive instinct kicking into overdrive. I hated being behind, especially at home.
The rest of the period was a battle, with neither team giving an inch. When the buzzer sounded, we headed to the locker room still down by one.
“We’re playing well,” Coach said, adjusting the whiteboard to show a new forecheck pattern. “But we need to create more traffic in front of their goalie. Kane, I want you to park yourself in the crease more. Make it impossible for him to see the puck.”
The second period started with renewed energy.
True to Coach’s instructions, I positioned myself directly in front of Bozeman’s goalie every chance I got, using my size to screen him while our defensemen fired shots from the point.
Five minutes in, our strategy paid off. Drew fired a shot from the blue line that the goalie never saw thanks to my screen.
The puck sailed past his blocker and into the net, tying the game at 1-1.
The crowd erupted, and I pumped my fist, feeling that rush of adrenaline I’d only ever felt on the ice. As we skated back to the bench for a line change, I looked for Abby and found her jumping up and down, high-fiving Sam. Seeing her excitement had me grinning like an idiot.
“Nice screen,” Coach said as I took my seat on the bench. “Keep it up.”
The momentum had shifted in our favor, and we pressed our advantage. Liam nearly scored on a breakaway but was denied by a spectacular glove save. The pace was frantic, both teams trading chances. Gordy stood tall in our net, making several key saves to keep the game tied.
With two minutes left in the period, I got on the ice for my shift and immediately found myself in the middle of a scramble along the boards.
I dug the puck out and fed it to Drew at the point.
He fired a shot that was blocked, but I managed to corral the rebound.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam—normally holding the blue line—slip behind their coverage at the far post.
Without hesitation, I threaded a pass through two defensemen, and Liam one-timed it into the open net. 2-1 our lead.
The crowd went wild.
“Fucking beautiful pass, Kane!” Liam shouted over the noise.
The period ended with us clinging to that one-goal lead, though Bozeman had pushed hard in the final minute. As we headed to the locker room, I felt confident but knew we couldn’t let up.
“Twenty more minutes, boys,” Coach said. “They’re going to throw everything at us. Stay disciplined, block shots, and take care of the puck.”
The third period was a battle from the opening face-off.
Bozeman came out desperate, forechecking aggressively and hemming us in our own zone for long stretches.
Gordy made save after save, some of them bordering on miraculous.
We blocked shots with every part of our bodies, throwing ourselves in front of pucks without hesitation.
Midway through the period, I took a slap shot to the inside of my knee where there was a gap in my pads. The pain was immediate and blinding, but I gritted my teeth and finished my shift before limping to the bench.
“You good?” Coach asked, his eyes assessing me critically.
“I’m fine,” I said. There was no way I was missing the end of this game.
With five minutes left, disaster struck. Drew got called for a borderline tripping penalty, sending us into a penalty kill at the worst possible time. As one of our primary penalty killers, I took the opening face-off in our defensive zone, winning it cleanly and clearing the puck down the ice.
For the next two minutes, we defended like our lives depended on it.
Gordy made three spectacular saves in succession, and I blocked a shot with my shoulder that would definitely leave a mark.
When Drew finally stepped out of the box, the crowd gave us a standing ovation for surviving the penalty kill with our lead intact.
“Three minutes left,” Coach called as I gulped water on the bench. “Smart hockey now. No turnovers at the blue lines.”
The tension in the arena was palpable as they pressed for the tying goal. I won a crucial face-off in our zone, and we managed to clear the puck, but they quickly regrouped and came back on the attack.
With thirty seconds left, their defenseman fired a shot from the point that Gordy stopped, but the rebound bounced right to their winger.
He had a wide-open net, but somehow—I still don’t know how—Drew dove across the crease and blocked the shot with his stick.
The puck skittered to the corner where I battled for it, eventually chipping it out of the zone and down the ice.
The final buzzer sounded. We’d held on for a 2-1 victory.
“Fuck, yeah!” I shouted, skating over to Gordy and tackling him in celebration. The rest of the team piled on, a mass of sweaty, exhausted, and elated hockey players.
After shaking hands with the Bozeman players—a few of whom I knew from playing against them over the years—we started heading for the locker room. I sought out Abby in the crowd and found her beaming with pride, my jersey loose on her smaller frame. Her smile made our victory all the sweeter.
In the locker room, all the guys were amped up from our win. Someone had connected a speaker, and music blasted as we changed out of our gear.
“Party at the house!” Drew announced to nobody’s surprise. Our post-win celebrations were legendary on campus.
I peeled off my sweaty equipment, wincing at the already-purpling bruise on my knee. Our trainer came by to check it, confirming it was just a bruise and nothing structural.
“You’ll live,” he said dryly. “Ice it tonight and try not to do anything stupid at your party.”
“No promises,” I replied with a grin.
After a quick shower, I checked my phone to find a text from Abby.
Abby
You were amazing out there! We’ll wait for you by the main entrance.
I smiled, typing back:
Be there in 5. btw my jersey looks good on you.
As I finished getting dressed, Coach came by to give me a fist bump. “Good leadership tonight, Kane. Way to battle through that shot block.”
“Thanks, Coach. Gordy’s the real hero tonight.”
“True,” he laughed. “But that pass to Farrell on the second goal was a thing of beauty. Keep that up and maybe we’ll make it to the conference playoffs.”
I gathered my gear bag and headed out to meet Abby, my body sore but my spirits high. The main entrance was crowded with friends and family waiting for players, but I spotted Abby and Sam immediately. Abby’s face lit up when she saw me, and she rushed over, throwing her arms around my neck.
“That was incredible!” she exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement.
I laughed, wrapping my arms around her waist. “So I take it you enjoyed your first official game as the captain’s girlfriend?”
“I definitely did. You were amazing out there,” she said earnestly. “And that save Gordy made in the third period? I thought Sam was going to fall off her seat.”
“It’s true,” Sam confirmed, joining us. “I’ve never screamed so much at a sporting event in my life. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with your goalie now.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him,” I teased.
Drew and Liam emerged from the locker room, immediately drawing a small crowd of admirers. Gordy followed a minute later, looking stoic as usual, despite the attention he was receiving for his stellar performance.
“Party at our place,” Drew announced to the group at large. “Starting as soon as we get there.”
As we all headed to the parking lot, I kept my arm around Abby’s shoulders, enjoying the way she fit perfectly against my side. My knee throbbed and my shoulder ached from the blocked shot, but I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this content.
“You’re limping,” Abby observed as we neared my truck. “Are you okay?”
“Just a bruise,” I assured her, touched by her concern. “Occupational hazard.”
She frowned slightly. “Maybe we should skip the party so you can rest?”
“Not a chance,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Captain can’t miss the victory celebration. Besides, I want to show off my beautiful girlfriend.”
Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, and she ducked her head in that shy way that never failed to charm me. “Fine, but you have to promise to ice that knee later.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed solemnly, then I lowered my voice and whispered in her ear.
“If you really want to make me feel better, you could always sit on my face while I’m icing my knee.
” If I thought her cheeks were pink before, it was nothing compared to now as she playfully swatted me on my stomach with the back of her hand.
“Behave.”