29 - Aiden #2
I turned just in time to see Landon squaring up with one of their defensemen. Fists went flying, and the crowd cheered on their golden boy.
“Break it up!” the ref shouted, but they got a few solid hits in before they were pulled apart.
We reset. Again.
Minutes bled off the clock, each one heavier than the last. Chance after chance came and went right on by.
Grayson ripped a shot from the top of the circle, but that too was saved.
I tipped a pass in front, and it sailed wide.
Landon crashed the net, got tangled with their goalie, bodies piling up in the crease. Whistle blew.
Nothing.
Still 1–1.
It felt like the ice was tilting under us. Like something had to give, but neither team was willing to be the one that gave it up first.
“Stay on it!” Grayson barked as we lined up again.
I nodded, chest heaving, lungs burning. Everything hurt. Legs, ribs, shoulders. But it didn’t matter. We kept going.
Five minutes left.
Then three.
Every shift shorter now. No movement wasted.
I skated past Hunter in the crease, catching his eye. Sweat dripped down his mask, chest rising hard under his pads. He’d been unreal all night.
“Hang in there,” I told him, voice rough. “We’re gonna make this worth it.”
He let out a breathless laugh. “I have no plans of throwing in the towel until we’ve got this game in the bag.”
Something in my chest lit up, and I pushed off, skating back into position.
“Hold it,” I told Grayson. “As long as you can. Hold that fucking puck, then feed me when it’s time.”
He frowned. “How will I know when it’s time?”
I tapped my helmet. “Eyes on me. You’ll know.”
He held my gaze for a second, then nodded.
Final minute.
The arena was on its feet, and we could feel each and every spectator holding their breath on our behalf.
Grayson had the puck, just inside their zone, defenders closing in on him fast. He held it. Just like I said. Took the pressure. Absorbed it.
I moved, cutting through the seam. Risky, but my last resort. High danger. Tight space. Exactly where it could break. Two Avalanche defenders clocked me at the same time. Adjusted, and closed in.
“Now,” I called out, tapping my stick once on the ice.
Grayson didn’t hesitate. He swept the puck across the ice like a bullet.
It came in hot, and I lunged for the dead stop when my marks thought I’d keep moving. The defenders overshot like I knew they would, momentum carrying them a step too far. They turned, eyes snapping back to me just as I pulled the puck in tight.
Everything slowed.
I pivoted, cutting around them to fake the pass to Landon who came crashing in from the left. They bit. Both of them. And once they were cleared, I drove the net.
Time stood still. The arena got sucked dry of every other person in there. It was just me, their goalie, and the back of that fucking net.
For half a second, there was nothing.
Then the arena lost its absolute shit.
2–1.
I didn’t even feel the first hit when Grayson slammed into me. Then Landon. Then everyone. Bodies crashed into mine, their weight piling on until my legs gave out and we all went down in a heap on the ice. Helmets knocked together. Sticks clattered.
Noise. Pure, deafening noise. Like music to my ears.
The tunnel was chaos.
Guys shouting, the echo of the arena still vibrating through concrete and bone. We poured off the ice in a rush of noise and sweat and adrenaline, the win still buzzing under my skin like I’d been plugged straight into the building’s power source.
Grayson slapped the back of my helmet on the way past. “Hell of a play!”
“Get in here, boys!” Coach barked from down the hall.
They kept moving, but I slowed down.
Sage stood just off to the side of the tunnel, half in the shadows, eyes locked on me like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Everything in me shifted direction.
“Sage—”
I hit her at full momentum, arms wrapping around her waist as I lifted her clean off her feet. She laughed, surprised and breathless as I spun her once, twice, the world blurring around us.
“Did you see that?” I said, words tumbling out, chest still heaving.
“Yes!” she laughed. “I saw it. You were amazing.”
I couldn’t stop grinning. My whole body was still in the game, still wired, still chasing that last second. “Did you see that last play?”
She nodded, breath catching. “I saw the last play.”
I set her down, my hands sliding up to her face, and I kissed her. It was hard and messy, all adrenaline and heat and the kind of reckless joy that doesn’t ask permission.
She kissed me back, but—
Something was off.
It was subtle, but I felt it.
I pulled back, breath still uneven, eyes searching hers. The noise of the tunnel started creeping back in around us.
“What’s going on?” I asked, the high in my chest dipping, something colder slipping in. “Did something happen?”
Her smile faltered just a fraction, confirming my suspicions. Something was wrong.
She took a breath, like she had to steady herself before she said it. “I got the scholarship.”
“Sage, that’s—” I grabbed her again, lifting her up without thinking, spinning her like the words hadn’t fully caught up with the moment yet. “That’s incredible!”
But this time, she didn’t laugh, and the tension in her body hit me mid-spin. I slowed, setting her back on her feet, my hands still on her arms as I looked at her properly.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Relief tried to come, but it didn’t land. Not fully. Not with the way she was looking at me.
“They don’t have room in the program here in San Antonio,” she said then.
Something in my chest tightened, but I let her finish without interruption.
“The only place they have left is in New York City.”
“New York?”
It hit like a shift change I hadn’t seen coming. Fast. Disorienting. Knocking the air sideways in my lungs.
“I called them today,” she said. “And I told them I’m taking it.”