Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kaden
Dropping the Puck, Lifting the Team
The cold bite of the ice beneath my skates is grounding, electric, like the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. The hum of the crowd crescendos as we hit the ice, thousands of fans screaming our names, cheering us on. My name might be in there somewhere, or not. However, it doesn’t matter. Out here, it’s not about recognition. It’s about the game.
I skate hard during warm-ups, loosening my muscles and shaking off the tension that always lingers before a game. Linus is a few paces away, firing wrist shots at the net. His technique is solid, but there’s hesitation in his movements. I can see it. A little too much thought, not enough instinct. That hesitation can be deadly on the ice.
The buzzer blares, signaling the end of warm-ups. I skate toward the bench, joining the rest of the team as we filter off the ice and back into the locker room. The atmosphere is a mix of tension and focus, the hum of adrenaline buzzing just beneath the surface. Coach gives us a quick rundown, the usual pep talk, but I can feel the energy building. Everyone knows what’s at stake.
I pull off my helmet and gloves, running a hand through my damp hair as the equipment guys make their rounds. The air in the locker room is thick with the scent of sweat and determination. Linus sits a few stalls down, tapping his stick against the floor, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Kid needs to calm down if he’s going to perform out there.
“Relax,” I mutter as I lean over, catching his eye. “It’s just a game.”
He smirks faintly, but I can tell he’s still wound tight. “Easy for you to say.”
“Yeah, well, try not to fuck it up,” I tease, giving him a light shove with my elbow. It earns me a chuckle, and that’s all I need to see. He’s loosening up.
The signal comes for us to head out. As a team, we line up in the tunnel, our skates scraping against the concrete floor. The roar of the crowd grows louder, muffled by the walls but powerful enough to send a jolt through my chest. This is the moment I live for—the anticipation before the storm.
The lights in the arena dim as we step onto the ice together, the announcer’s voice booming through the speakers, introducing each player. The crowd erupts, flags waving and voices echoing like thunder. My name rings out over the sound system, and I skate to my position, giving a quick nod to the fans. The energy in the air is electric, fueling every nerve in my body.
Once the introductions are done, we line up at the blue line, shoulder to shoulder. The anthem begins to play, and the arena falls into a hushed reverence. As the final note of the anthem fades, the crowd roars to life again, louder than before. It’s deafening, and I can’t help the small smirk that pulls at my lips. This is our house, and tonight, we’re here to dominate.
The referee skates to center ice, and I take my position for the face-off. Crouching low, I grip my stick, locking eyes with the opposing center. The crowd noise fades into the background, and everything outside the rink disappears. Right now, it’s just the puck and the game.
The puck drops, and I win the draw clean, snapping it back with precision. Linus is on my right, skating hard to keep pace, his stick poised. I fire the puck his way with a quick, decisive pass. My chest tightens as he fumbles it briefly, but he recovers just in time to keep control.
I’m on him immediately, my skates cutting into the ice as I surge forward. “Focus,” I shout, making sure my voice cuts through the roar of the crowd. “Keep your head in the game.”
I push ahead, positioning myself for the next play, ready to give him an outlet. The flow of the ice draws me in, every move demanding my full attention. Now it’s up to Linus to trust me, to see the play the way I do.
We push deep into the offensive zone, and I can see the defenders closing in on him. He hesitates again, and I skate hard to catch up. “Pass it back,” I shout, my voice cutting through the noise.
He does, and the puck glides perfectly onto my blade. I fake a slap shot, pulling the defense toward me, then send it back to him with a no-look pass. It’s clean, seamless, and for a moment, I think we’ve got it.
“Shoot,” I yell, my voice echoing in my head even over the crowd.
Linus winds up and releases a rocket of a shot. The puck sails past the goalie’s glove, clanging against the crossbar before dropping into the net. The red light flashes, and the crowd explodes. My heart races as I skate toward Linus, slapping his helmet as he grins wide.
“Nice fucking shot,” I say, and he nods, a bit of that rookie uncertainty replaced by confidence.
“Thanks,” he replies, his voice breathless. “That was all you, though. That pass—damn.”
I wave him off, smirking. “Keep shooting like that, and we might win.”
We skate back to the bench, and Coach claps me on the shoulder as I take a seat. “That’s what I need to see from you, Crawford. Keep building him up.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything. Linus might be a rookie, but he’s got potential. If I can get him to trust his instincts, maybe we’ll have a shot this season.
The next shift is all about defense. The opposing team is relentless, their passes crisp and their speed blistering. But we hold the line. I chase down a forward streaking toward our net, timing my poke check perfectly to knock the puck loose. Spinning on my skates, I fire it up the boards to Linus, who’s waiting at the blue line.
“Go,” I shout, skating hard to join him on the rush.
Linus takes off, his strides long and powerful. He’s learning. I trail behind, giving him space to work. He fakes a pass to the winger, then cuts inside, juking the defenseman out of position. The goalie shifts, anticipating a shot, but Linus sees the play before it happens.
He passes back to me at the last second, and I don’t hesitate. One-timer. The puck rockets into the top corner of the net, and the arena erupts.
Linus skates over, bumping my shoulder. “Guess we’re not so bad together, huh?”
I chuckle. “Keep up, kid. You might make a player out of yourself yet.”
By the time the final buzzer sounds, we’re up by three. The crowd is on their feet, chanting, screaming, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like we’re a team.
In the locker room, the atmosphere is light. Linus catches me before I leave, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Hey, Crawford,” he starts, hesitating. “Thanks for tonight. For, uh, everything.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, kid.”
As I head for the showers, I can’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, this team is worth sticking around for.