Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Moment - Wyatt
This is it.
As I warm up on the ice, I’m acutely aware of how intense this scrimmage is going to be.
The videographer is on one end, his camera trained on the rink.
A coach is on each bench—one for the yellow jerseys and the other for the black jerseys.
Assistants are in the stands. This time on the ice is going to determine where I’m going to start the season.
And I’m in fierce competition with my teammates to do it.
I try to calm the excitement ripping through me. I glance over at Antoine. He’s going to be a first-round pick this year. Antoine played a year of juniors before opting to play in college because he thought it was better for his development.
I pop my mouth guard out and chew on the end of it, letting it dangle from my lips. Antoine is the key. He has a vision and a hockey IQ like nobody else on the team. If I can play on the same line with him this season as the left winger, I will hit the back of the net regularly. I know it.
And that will hopefully end up with me being drafted by an NHL team next summer.
I draw my mouth guard back in. The first two lines meet each other at center ice. I look around. These guys are my family here in California. My teammates. Brothers.
But tonight? We’re all competing for the same spots.
I settle my nerves. I’ve worked so hard for so long and given up so much for this opportunity.
I spent all summer in the gym, working on my legs.
I built explosiveness. Strength. Stamina.
Then I was on the ice, shooting, shooting, shooting.
I worked on my release. This summer was a relentless schedule of training to get to this.
And the moment is finally here.
The puck is dropped, and I get an explosive start thanks to my new legs. I’m buzzing. The adrenaline is just coursing through my veins, but I have to remember it’s going to take time for me to find my rhythm with Antoine and Oakleigh, the center.
Antoine is moving down the ice, and I try to get open near the net.
I’m skating hard, and all the sensations of playing a game come back to me.
The cold air. The smell of the ice. Shouts of “wheel, wheel!” and “drop, drop!” I’m getting a feel for weaknesses in this D-line.
I have a D-man on me, so Antoine dumps it deep.
All I can hear are coaches yelling, “Change, change, change.” I skate off the ice with my line, taking a seat on the bench as the second line goes over the boards and hits the ice.
I reach for a bottle of an electrolyte drink and squirt some into my mouth.
Antoine is breathing hard next to me as he reaches for a bottle and does the same thing.
I turn to him. “Next time don’t dump it,” I say between breaths. “Get it to me in the neutral zone. I’ll get open for you.”
He nods. “All right.”
No scoring happens as the lines continue to change and we keep moving down the bench, with each shift coming and going.
Finally, we’re up again, and I jump over the boards and hit the ice along with Antoine.
Our D-line strips the puck, and Sebastian flips it up to Antoine.
We skate toward the neutral zone. He passes the puck to me, and I move it forward before leaving the puck behind for Antoine.
He fakes to the inside, cuts to the outside, and I position myself right in front of the net.
Antoine rips a pass that hits my tape like he lasered it to me.
I immediately tap it in, and the puck goes past our number-one goalie and hits the back of the net.
“Yes! Hell yeah!” I scream, pumping my fist in the air.
I celebrate with my line, and Antoine taps my helmet. “You keep getting open like that, and I will feed you all season,” he says.
Exhilaration floods through me. I already did what I needed to do. I scored on my second shift. I just need to play a complete game and let the coaches know that not only has an improved Wyatt Jacobs arrived, but one who is ready to start on the first line for the season, too.
***
Tonight was epic.
I not only scored the first goal but added another one to the score sheet with another great pass from Antoine.
I’m happy with my details of the game, too.
I played a two-hundred-foot game. My back-checking was good, and I was physical when I needed to be.
I’ll start the season on the top line. It’s not being cocky, it’s something my gut just knows.
Antoine and I are just starting to build chemistry, and if we already have it during the first scrimmage, it will only get better and better with each practice.
I zip up my bag and leave the dressing room, ready to go over to the Athletic Dining Hall for dinner. I wait for Sebastian to finish up, then we meet up with Nolan and Austin and walk down the long corridor to the exit. I push open the door first, but then I stop dead in my tracks.
Because Grace is waiting for me.
My breath catches in my throat, like it seems to every time I look at her. Her hair is slicked back in a bun at the nape of her neck, and she’s wearing a black hoodie that says “OCU Artistic Swimming” and a pair of denim shorts that show off her long legs.
Grace is here. She knows what tonight means for my future and came here to meet me. Something new swells in my chest. Like a warm burn.
She smiles shyly and puts her hand up in a small wave, looking uncertain. If she only knew she had nothing to worry about. The warm feeling continues to spread through my body. Again, it’s a new sensation, unfamiliar to me.
But I like it.
I smile back at her, unable to contain my excitement over finding her here.
This is the first time someone has ever been here to meet me.
I mean, yeah, during the season when my parents come in for a couple of games, they’ll meet me here, but this is the first time a girl has waited specifically to see me.
I turn to the guys. “I’ll meet you at the dining hall.”
Sebastian claps his hand on my back. “First, you score two goals. Now you have this hot girl waiting for you? Lucky bastard,” he says quietly, so only I can hear him.
The guys all greet Grace, and she smiles warmly and says hello to everyone. But the best smile is saved for me, one that lights up her face.
I drop my bag to the floor and reach for her to keep up our ruse since we’re in front of the guys.
I slide one arm around her tiny waist and draw her into my chest. Her hands move up my back, and my pulse jumps the second I feel her touch and her warm body against mine.
She has that unique Grace smell—a mixture of vanilla and honey and just a whisper of chlorine from the pool—and I swear I can get drunk off it.
I press a kiss onto the top of her hair, and I can’t stop smiling.
I know I didn’t have to greet her exactly like this. But the truth is, I wanted to.
Grace moves back from me, and I shift my hands to her waist. My fingertips hold on to her lightly, just above her hip bones. She stares up at me with those big eyes, and I see nothing but trust in them. So I keep my hands there, relishing the fact that I’m actually holding her like this.
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t ask before coming here,” she says, her words coming out of her mouth quickly after the guys have walked away. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
Nervous. She’s nervous, and she doesn’t need to be.
“Intruding? Nah,” I say, grinning down at her.
She nods. “Okay, good. I just finished swim practice, and I wanted to congratulate you in person on getting the yellow jersey. I’m so excited for you, Wy!
No matter what happens, that should be celebrated.
You told me how hard you worked, and I’m so glad the coaches rewarded it.
They see something in you, and that’s massive. ”
More warmth floods my chest as her words seep in.
If I don’t make the first line, I’m still a success in Grace’s eyes.
And that matters. She’s an athlete. She knows how I feel.
She understands the struggle in a way my parents never can.
And here she is, straight from practice, taking time out of her day to make sure I know she’s proud of me.
My throat unexpectedly grows tight as the weight of her words and actions wash over me.
I am a success. I’m playing D1 hockey. I worked as hard as I could to open the season on the first line.
Will I be disappointed if I don’t make it?
Yes. A lot disappointed, actually, because I want to play with Antoine.
But hearing Grace’s view—something so drastically different from my dad’s—gives me a new perspective on it.
I’m a damn good hockey player.
“I just wanted to tell you that,” Grace says, filling the silence hanging in the air. “Um … I can leave you to it now. I know you probably have a million things to—”
Before I know what I’m doing, I put my hands on her face.
She gasps in surprise, and I nearly do, too.
I feel her soft skin in my hands, and my pulse quickens.
I tilt her face up, swallowing the lump in my throat as I stare down at her, drowning in her pools of blue.
I’ve kissed her twice before. It would be so easy to do it now.
But I don’t. There’s very few people around, and I have no reason to kiss her.
Except for one reason. I desperately want to.
I shove that thought aside and allow my thumbs to drag across her cheekbones. “Thank you for coming by tonight. I’m glad you’re here."
She blinks in surprise. “Yeah?”
I grin. “Yeah. It was nice to see you waiting for me.”
Relief passes over her face. “I’m glad. Do you have a minute to tell me how it went? I mean, I understand if you don’t. I know you’re going to have dinner with the guys. I don’t want to hold you up.”
I continue to run my thumb back and forth over her right cheekbone, taking advantage of her letting me touch her. “You’re not holding me up. Unless you aren’t ready.”
“What? What do you mean?” Grace asks, scrunching up her nose in confusion.
“I’m not having dinner with the guys. I’m going to have dinner with you. If you’ll say yes, that is.”