Chapter 36 Fletcher
thirty-six
Fletcher
This championship win is so close I can taste it.
We’ve worked our asses off every year since we got to Rockford, but somehow, from day one, we all knew this season was going to be different.
For the first time since we arrived here freshman year, it’s like our team understood each other in a way we never have before.
Even when Cam and Declan were at odds with each other, before they resolved their issues, and Ember and Declan got back together, our team still moved in a way we never had before. It’s like we’re one person when we’re on that ice and know each other’s moves before the moves are even made.
We have one more game. One more game, and if we win it, we win the Frozen Four Championship title, something Rockford has been craving for ages.
“I can’t wait for the season to be over.” I hop into my car as Jeremy gets into the passenger seat. “Like, what a fucking season it’s been, but my body is aching in places I didn’t know I could ache.”
Jere glares at me as he sinks into my passenger seat more comfortably.
I drove Jeremy to his physical therapy session today, his last one before our final game of the season, and honestly, a part of me thought about joining in.
Maybe not the exercising part; I get enough nagging on that end from Coach. But watching them work on his back afterward, I just know they could loosen knots I didn’t even know I had.
“Coming from the man who doesn’t have metal in his back.”
“I don’t know why you’re saying that in such a condescending tone. You’re basically a bionic man.”
“I’m basically falling apart, and I’m not even twenty-two yet. My dad has a better back than I do.”
“Your grandpa probably does, too.” I joke as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Seriously, dude, how’s your back holding up?”
When he first hurt his back as a freshman, we had no idea if it'd be something he’d recover from, but he did. Then, when he took that hit at the beginning of the season, we all wondered if coming back would be worth the risk.
We’d never tell him that; we know how important this game is to him, but we also know how one hit could change his life forever.
“Honestly, it’s better than it’s been in a long time.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he smiles.
“I will be taking some well-deserved rest after we win this game, I promise. And then I’ll be playing better than ever.”
I hope he’s telling me the truth. Jeremy has been practicing as if he has something to prove to us.
Or maybe he’s trying to prove to himself that he can still play the game.
That he can still pursue a career in hockey even with the state of his back, but sometimes I worry he’s pushing himself too much.
There’s only so much painkillers can do for you. Sure, they numb the pain for a little bit, but eventually, all that pain is going to catch up and hit him like a motherfucker.
“I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard, okay?”
“I’m not, I promise. My back has one more game in it for this season, okay? I’m not going to let a little pain keep us from becoming champions.”
And I don’t know why, but the smile on his face as he says that is almost scarier than the sentence itself.
I’ve never felt like I was going to shit my pants before a hockey game, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Granted, we’ve never played in a hockey game this big. We have an entire college counting on us to bring home this trophy, and there’s a part of me that’s scared we won’t.
Everything we’ve worked for this year has led to this moment. And by the end of it, we’ll either be champions or not.
“Alright.” Declan takes a deep breath as we gather around. “Tonight’s it, okay. It’s now or never. Everything we’ve worked for this season, hell, everything we’ve worked for since we started playing this game, regardless of if it was five years ago or ten.”
He runs a hand through his hair as a smile grows on his face.
“I wouldn’t want to go out on that ice with anyone else tonight.
You've made this season the kind of season that will stick with us for a lifetime. And for some of you,” Declan’s eyes meet those of the seniors on our team, “this is your last game. Whether that means with our team… or forever, tonight is it. So, we’re all going to go out there and leave everything we’ve got on that ice. Deal?”
Declan doesn’t need a verbal response. The energy building up in the locker room is all he needs to know that we’re all on the same page.
“Let’s get out there and have a hell of a game.”
The locker room erupts as our players slowly file out and toward the ice.
I’m one of the last people out, scanning the crowd for the one person who always knows how to calm my nerves, and even though the arena is jam-packed, I find her in seconds.
All the nerves disappear the second she smiles at me.
We’ve got this.
Tonight… we become champions.
My eyes haven’t left the ice since I got back to the bench.
It’s a tied game.
The Wisconsin Wildcats scored the first goal of the game during the first period. When we didn’t get on the board by the end of that period, there was definitely a shift in the locker room.
Sure, it was only one goal, and we didn’t let any more get past our net, but we were all feeling the nerves at that point.
We knew that if we didn’t get on the board, even if we prevented them from scoring again, it would be over. I think it also fueled our fire, though, because our team was on the ice for twenty-three seconds during the second period when Jeremy absolutely annihilated the goalie with a wrist shot.
So, when we came out here to start the third period, we had a little more fire in us. We were ready to win this game.
And now we’re tied, two-two.
And there are three minutes left.
Three minutes could change our entire lives. Our future.
Jeremy tweaked his back near the end of the second period, but after a little heat and some rest in the locker room during the intermission, he was able to convince Coach to get back on the ice.
He’s moving a little slower this period than he was when he scored his goal, but he’s still doing a hell of a job protecting Cam from the other team.
This period has been intense from the very start.
We’re both craving this win, as if our life depends on it, but only one of us can win.
When the opportunity arises, Jere comes back to the bench, and I replace him on the ice.
The second my feet hit the ice, I’m skating full force, and once I have the puck in my possession, I glance around to figure out the best way to put our team in a goal advantage.
I don’t know if I’ve been breathing since my skates hit the ice, almost as if breathing is an afterthought, and ensuring we win this game is my main priority.
Sweat drips down my face, trailing all the way down to my neck as I skate to the opposing goal. I don’t need to see Declan; I feel him catching up to me.
Once he skates past me, putting him in a prime position near the goal to score, I whip the puck in his direction. The momentum from my pass, combined with the power behind his stick, hurls the puck toward the net—
Ting.
It hits the metal goalpost and falls perfectly into the goalie’s glove.
It sucks.
It felt good. It looked good.
We were mere inches from being in a comfortable position to finish out the last ninety seconds of the game.
We pull ourselves together, getting our heads back in the game. Jax and Zeke are down by our net, ready for the Wildcats to make their move.
They’ve done a hell of a job protecting Cam when they’re out on the ice tonight, and I think it’s made a difference. The way Jax and Zeke play together is like no other pairing on the ice.
Honestly, our whole team plays in a way I’m not used to seeing with other teams. I think it helps that I’ve been playing with some of these guys since we were kids.
Number thirty-two on the Wildcats has momentum I haven’t seen from this team all night, though.
He’s breezing from their end of the ice to ours.
When he gets close to our goal, Jax and Zeke are ready for him.
What they aren’t prepared for is for him to pass the puck to the player behind him, ninety-seven, and “stop” himself.
As he does, ice sprays into Cam’s face, but the momentum of the stop has him toppling into Cam and the net as the other player shoots the puck toward the net.
There’s a whistle.
Ninety-seven helps thirty-two out of the net and off Cam. I have no idea where the puck is. I also have no idea if they’ll call goalie interference on the play or if he’ll get off on a technicality.
It wouldn’t be the first time this season that a ref made a bad call against our team.
But as Cam straightens up, a wave of relief rushes over me when I notice the puck sitting comfortably in his glove.
The guys and I skate over to him, helping him up to his feet and tapping him on the helmet.
“That was a hell of a save, Bowman.” Declan voices the one thing we’re all thinking.
There are thirty seconds left on the clock, and we’re using our only time out of the game, allowing Cam a minute to collect himself.
“Bowman,” Coach grabs Cam as we come off the ice, “you’re a hell of a goalie, kid. Even if there was a chance that the goal wasn’t going to count because their player was in your space before the puck was shot, you didn’t take that risk. With all of the obstacles in your way, you found that puck.”
“Thanks, Coach.” Cam’s breathing is ragged, but I bet all of our breathing sounds like that right now.
“We’ve got thirty seconds left in this game. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to go into overtime. I want us to come out on top in regulation. Does that sound like a plan?” There’s a universal nod. “Good. Then let's get out there and play some fucking hockey.”
We’re finishing the season the way we started it. Declan, Brooks, Zeke, Jere, Jax, and Cam are on the ice. As much as it sucks being on the sidelines, it’s nice to know I’ll have the best seat in the house to watch us take down these Wildcats.
Declan prepares for the faceoff; I can see the determination to get possession of this puck in his stance. He wants this. We all do. And we’re going to make it happen.
The puck drops.
Declan steals it without any hesitation, knocking it backward to Brooks as Declan zips down the ice.
They’re trying to keep the other team on their toes, no one holding onto the puck for long, just long enough to make a clean pass, as the clock ticks down.
I stand as our team reaches their net. My eyes don’t leave the puck; they follow it to Jeremy’s stick.
Five… four… three… two—
Jeremy snaps off a quick shot, but like Declan’s previous goal, it hits the metal goalpost. But it flies back off, giving Jere the perfect opportunity for his own rebound.
Catching their goalie off guard, he slaps the puck right back at the goal as the buzzer sounds.
The swoosh into the net is undeniable.
The team doesn’t need verification; we’re out on the ice, stacking our bodies on top of Cam’s and the rest of our players.
We did.
We won.