21. Matt
MATT
Game three of the finals is tonight, and I think I’m more nervous to face the team than I am to face the Wild in the net. Huang played the last two games—the first when he took over for me when my parents were visiting and then this last game when I was taking time off to get ahold of myself.
Social media, where I usually go to lift myself up, has become a dark hole that I have to avoid altogether. Shay has been the social media police, smacking my phone from my hand anytime she catches me on it at the rink.
I might not have been in the net, and it took just that for me to realize that it’s not just because of me that we win or lose; it’s because of the effort we all contribute.
I wasn’t here, and they did just fine. But tonight, I get the chance to play again and prove to everyone—and myself—that I can do this.
Now we’re back in Washington. It’s game three, and we’re up in the series, two to zero. We just need to win two more, and we’re the champions. Two wins, and then Shay and I can start to focus on our relationship and not surviving this season.
My heart is in my throat as I walk into the locker room, knowing a lot of the guys are already in there, waiting for my arrival.
I’m typically one of the first ones to show up, but I was honestly dreading seeing some of them.
Not because of their actions or any way they’ve acted toward me, but because of my own shame and embarrassment that I couldn’t be there for them in some of the most important games of our lives.
Some professional hockey players, a majority really, go their entire career never winning the Cup, never getting to the finals or past a certain round in the playoffs. That is a far likelier outcome than hoisting the Cup in the air in front of your family and friends.
I’m lucky to have gotten this far, and it could be the last time I ever do, which makes it all feel that much more intense. This could be the peak of my career, and I won’t know until, one day, it ends.
Costy’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “There he is. Good to see you, Big Mac.”
Kos’s head whips up, and a smile stretches over his face. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” I smile, feeling so awkward that I could crawl in a hole and die.
Kos stands up from his seat and walks over to me mid-dress, throwing his arms around my shoulders and pulling me in for a hug.
“How’re you doing?” he asks like I haven’t been texting the boys’ group chat since the night I stayed at Shay’s place.
It’s because of Shay I even opened up to them about my dad in the first place, but it made the weight a little lighter, and for that, I’m thankful.
“How’re you really doing?” Costy adds as I pull back from Kos, the frigid cold thawing in my chest.
JD comes up behind me and slaps his hands on the tops of my shoulders, squeezing and rocking me back and forth. “There’s my goalie.”
Huang flips him off with a smirk as JD struts around me to join the half circle, but not before turning to glance at my other goalie half.
“No offense, Huang.”
“None taken.” Huang chuckles, offers me a nod, and goes back to getting dressed.
I’m sure we’ll talk in a few minutes when we get ready for warm-ups.
We were already communicating some these past couple of days when I was hyping him up about his play.
I told him I had some family stuff come up and I needed to focus on that.
He was super understanding and didn’t make me feel bad about it for a second.
Nodding, I try to shake some nerves, my pulse throbbing in my neck. “I’m doing all right. Dad’s in a care facility now, but it’s for the best since he’ll have round-the-clock care.”
Alec nods. “That’s tough, Matt. I’m sorry. How’s your mom holding up?”
I shrug. “She’s doing all right. Probably as good as she could be, you know?”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine. But she has you and has support. So does your dad. It’ll work itself out.” He pats my shoulder. “But I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make it any easier.”
My eyes burn, and I wish more than anything that I could go home and crawl under my blankets. But I can’t, and I don’t want to, not truly. This is where I need to be, playing alongside my boys with my girl coaching. This is it.
We all get dressed, and I manage to make it through warm-ups in one piece and without spiraling into a panic attack, so we will take that as a win.
But then the game starts, and I can feel that I’m not at a hundred percent. My reactions aren’t perfect, and because of that, the Wild are able to steal a game from us, and I don’t know how to handle the fact that we just lost the third game.
Was it because of me? Was it because I let in two goals? In terms of the thirty-one shots the Wild fired at me, that’s not horrible. But unfortunately, we just couldn’t find a way to get that second goal.
The guys, of course, tell me not to blame myself, as does the coaching staff, including Shay. But she knows how impossible of a task that is.
I disappear into my mind over the next couple of days. Shay checks in with me constantly, and I assure her that this has nothing to do with her. That she is the one certainty in my life. This is just how I get when the game gets tough. I isolate myself.
Thankfully, she understands it. Any other girlfriend would probably throw a fit that I was ignoring her, but Shay knows that the game we play is lonely, and sometimes, the only person we can rely on to pull us out of it is ourselves.
Besides, she’s been busier than ever with Andy.
She’s up late, watching tape with him on Zoom, spending hours upon hours reviewing Wild footage and taking notes.
She’s fighting this war right with me, and, God, there’s no one else in the world I would rather do it with.
My routine has taken over my existence while we prepare for the next game.
Wake up. Run. Protein-filled breakfast. Practice.
Lunch at the arena with the team, prepared by our chefs.
Spend the afternoon watching my own footage of the Wild and making notes where I see fit.
Dinner. Some form of entertainment that isn’t scrolling on my phone. And then bed. Repeat.
But as Shay drives us to the arena for tonight, I know I’m ready. I feel like the MacArthur our fans know, and maybe for the time being, I have to block out the emotion trying to take over. But that’s something I can live with. All that matters right now is the game.
“Ready?” Shay asks as she shuts her car off, and I don’t miss the twitch of her arm.
She’s told me it’s been a lot better lately. Her physical therapy has been great, but it’s still a time game, and some of her injuries may never heal fully or to the capacity they were before.
Turning to meet her confident gaze, I nod. “I’m ready.”
Her stare softens. “I’m proud of you. You’ve got this.”
Reaching over, she squeezes my hand gently with hers, and I repeat her words, a soft whisper. “I’ve got this.”
“That’s right,” she says confidently, without a drop of doubt in her voice.
She tosses her keys in her purse, and I slide out of her car, taking a quick deep breath before expelling it low and slow until all worry, concern, and fear leave my body. That might be an impossible task, but, hell, I can try.
After slipping my earbuds in, I lead the way inside with her trailing a little behind so the entire organization doesn’t find out about us and we risk throwing an unwanted wrench into the mix.
We’re sure they’ll be accepting of our relationship in the end, especially after everything they’ve forgiven, but we can’t know for sure, which is the scary part.
My music plays in my ears, the same playlist I always use, which is full of Britney Spears songs.
“Womanizer” thumps, and I tap my fingers against my leg to the beat as I try to shake everything off that has led me here.
I can do this. I know that. Now it’s just time to prove it.
We’re winning tonight. No other options.
The crowd roars in the arena, white and silver towels waving in the air in chaotic unison as the announcer introduces our starting players, one by one.
I’m last to go, as always, and I don’t know what to expect from the fans.
Usually, they are our biggest supporters, but after seeing the comments and posts, I’m not entirely sure how they’re going to treat me tonight.
A lot of the reactions I got from opening up about my family and mental health on social media has been positive and great, but of course, there’s the other half of the coin.
I try not to let it get to me, and nine out of ten times, I don’t.
But sometimes, those comments or messages cut like a damn knife.
Regardless of if they cheer or boo, I’m going to play the same. As hard as I can until the third period ends and we win.
When I step onto the ice, gliding to my spot on the blue line, the spotlight finds me, and the beat of silence breaks with an earthquake of applause. I swear it’s so loud that it rattles the glass.
Tears well in my eyes, my chest exploding with love and support. Obviously, this is the reaction I hoped for, but to experience it is otherworldly. A flash of white pulls my attention to the glass, where I see a girl holding a sign that reads MacArthur! We love you!
JD bumps my arm with his as the color guard makes their way onto the red carpet rolled out on the ice. “I told you, we’ve all got your back.”
Nodding, I have to bite down on my bottom lip to quench the sob from tearing through me. I’ve got this. I can do this. I’m on the biggest stage with the capability of making the biggest difference by just being myself, trying my best, and being honest about what I’m going through. I can do that.
We get through the anthem and an honorary puck drop, and by the time everyone is setting up at center ice, I feel ready. More ready than I ever have before.
Stretching my neck side to side, I take a deep breath and exhale as the world around fades away, everything but this game.
And finally, Big Mac, the one everyone knows and loves, shows up tonight, and we win, beating the Washington Wild, three to zero.
Shay’s waiting for me in her car with the biggest smile when I get in. Unfortunately for her, she’s going to have to be my chauffeur because what if she’s the good-luck charm to my game? She didn’t drive me when we lost, but magically, when she did, we won. I don’t think she’ll mind though.
“You kicked ass,” she squeals. “Matt, some of those saves?” Lifting her fist to her mouth, she groans. “We’re incredible, like straight out of The Matrix. What the hell? That was insane. I’m so proud of you.”
She’s practically vibrating in her seat, and my heart feels like it’s going to thump out of my chest and jump into her hands. But to be fair, she already owns it.
“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling like a thousand bucks but equally nervous because I know we aren’t done yet.
“Ahh,” she cheers. “You looked so good out there.”
“You looked great tonight too.” I smirk, and she glances over, rolling her eyes. “I mean it. That pink suit, phew, I think it might be my favorite.”
She side-eyes me, her cheeks starting to match her suit. “You just like me in this color. You’re biased. I brainwashed you, only wearing lace in this color.”
I didn’t even think of that, but she could be on to something. Regardless, it doesn’t take away from how incredible she looks, and with her hair loosely curled and pinned back at the sides, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“I do love it on you, but”—I reach over and palm her thigh, squeezing firmly as she pulls out of the parking garage—“that doesn’t mean that you didn’t look so goddamn beautiful.”
“God, I—” Her words freeze in her lungs.
My heart jumps into my throat at the possibility of what she was about to say. I’ve thought it a thousand times, and I’ve almost said it a million more, but I’ve been waiting for the right moment. But if she’s ready, then, hell, so am I.
“You?” I drag the word out as she turns a brighter shade of red than her top.
“Nothing,” she quips, over enthusiastically shaking her head. “I was going to say … God, I am so excited for the next game. Two days from now, it could all be over.”
I pulse my grip on her leg and brush my thumb over her pants. “And the beginning. The real beginning.”
“Two days,” she murmurs, glancing over at me with stars in her eyes.
I wink, unable to stop the giant smile from taking over my face. “Two days.”
A Britney Spears song comes on the radio, and she gasps, immediately cranking it up. “The universe just knew you needed to hear this!”
Britney starts singing “Oops! I Did It Again” through the speakers, and Shay sings along at full blast.
A laugh tears through me, and I join her, singing along and giving it everything I’ve got as we drive down this New York Street toward my place.
She’s dropping me off and then heading home to relieve Kyle’s sitter and stay with him.
The night sky is lit up from the bustling city, where dreams are made, and, dammit, I don’t think it could get much more perfect than this.