Chapter 35 #2
The horn blasts, signaling the end of the third period. Instead of the usual shortened overtime period, Zach planned a shootout as the tiebreaker. Each team picks a goalie in net and three goalies to take shots against the opposing team. The one with the most points wins.
Wade gets picked to be in the crease for the Sting Rays. The Sea Turtles select a goalie from a team in North Carolina, which means Wade will have to face Chase one-on-one.
But there’s a game—a win—at stake here. I can’t imagine Chase blowing that in an attempt to take Wade out.
Wade and the other goalie both block the first two shots on goal, leaving the tie in place. If neither team scores in the last round, we go into sudden death.
The third goalie from the Sting Rays skates down the ice, working the puck in a slow glide, moving to the left side of the net as he gets ready to take his shot, but at the last second, stretches his stick to the right and pulls a deke, sending the puck over the line.
The fans cheer, chanting, “Sting Rays! Sting Rays! Sting Rays!”
Then Chase skates out, pausing at center ice as he gets ready to take his shot.
The hair on my arms prickles. I glance at Sophie, then Mia.
On the other side of the rink, Lily stands in the tunnel, ready to unleash her security team if needed.
There’s nothing more we can do other than hope Chase decides to keep things professional and honor the game.
He taps the puck with his stick as if he’s testing the waters. Wade squats down, blocker and catcher in front of him, bouncing a few times to get ready.
Chase pushes off, stickhandling the puck, picking up some speed as he gets closer.
Wade skates forward, just past the edge of the crease, tracking Chase’s every move.
About five feet from the net, Chase finally takes a shot, sending the puck into the air and heading for the gap above Wade’s right shoulder, but he lifts his blocker and stick, knocking it away.
The crowd explodes into cheers, chanting the winning team’s name as the rest of the Sting Rays flood back onto the ice to congratulate Wade and each other. Chase heads toward the tunnel to leave the rink, but then he doesn’t.
I grab Sophie’s hand. “Why isn’t he leaving?”
She follows my line of sight with hers and squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry. Lily and her team are there.”
I know she’s trying to reassure me, but I hear the uncertainty in her voice, and mine’s twice as intense. I know Chase won’t give up that easily. He has something planned. I just don’t know what yet.
Wade’s team heads toward the tunnel but stops when they see Chase hanging back. Wade drifts closer, gaze fixated on Chase while leaving a good distance between them. Chase removes his helmet and his catcher, tucking them under his left arm before holding his right hand out.
Sophie tugs my shirt sleeve. “Look, he’s trying to make peace with Wade. Maybe the article had an impact after all.”
My stomach hollows out, then fills with dread. I shake my head. “No, he’s luring Wade in.”
I jump up from my seat and race down the steps until I’m at the boards, pressing my hands against the glass. Wade has to see me. He searched for me in the stands enough times during the game to know where I am.
Wade tugs off his helmet and catcher and drifts closer to Chase. The excitement of the crowd has simmered to a soft rumble as everyone watches what’s playing out on the ice.
Chase’s mouth moves, but I can’t hear or figure out what he said. Is he actually offering an olive branch? Or is he trying to stoke the fire I know blazes deep inside Wade?
I pound the glass, yelling Wade’s name, although I’m sure he won’t hear me over the growing chants of the crowd.
But then he turns his head, locking eyes with me. Everything in me tightens with a need to reach him, to tell him not to cross that line, that he doesn’t have to prove anything to me. I don’t want vengeance or justice for what Chase did to me. I just want Wade.
I want us.
He lifts one side of his mouth in that tilted smile I love. It’s the one that’s somewhat self-disparaging while coming across cocky as hell. I pound my hand on the plexiglass, desperate for him not to do what I suspect he’s about to do.
He skates toward Chase, slow and deliberate, until he’s a mere two feet away.
Chase thrusts his hand out again, but Wade stands there like a wall, strong and unmoving. And without a word, he shakes his head.
Something shifts in Chase’s stance. His hand drops, and his shoulders go back. After a pause that feels more like a decade, he tosses his stick, blocker, and catcher to the ice and throws a punch at Wade.
His head spins toward me, a spray of blood and saliva flying from his mouth. He holds his jaw as he straightens, glancing briefly at me before turning his full focus on Chase.
And his rage, which propels him at Chase in a slew of fast punches.
They turn into a tangle of flailing arms, targeted fist punches, and jerseys pulled at odd angles. Until finally they both wind up down on the ice.
The referees skate in at this point to separate them. Wade backs off immediately, but Chase still lies prone on the ice.
And unmoving. One of the refs signals the medical team with an urgent shake of his arm. The chants of the crowd die off as spectators realize the fighting they’d so gleefully cheered on had turned into something more serious.
Wade shoves a hand through his hair as he watches the medics help Chase up, and then he turns to face me. His lip is already swelling, and his eyes glitter with a hardness that makes me shudder.
I don’t know what Chase said to Wade, but I’m guessing it was awful based on how angry he looks.
A war of emotions slams into me. Fear over what this could potentially mean for Wade and his career. Anger at him for risking everything like that after he promised me he wouldn’t. And finally, a devastating need to get to him, to hold him and make sure he’s all right.
The rest of Wade’s team rallies around him until the ref leads Wade off the ice and down the tunnel.
And I’m racing up the steps, desperate to get to him.