Chapter 30
I watch Laura disappear into the back area of the arena, desperately wanting to join her and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her.
The last five minutes have been too much for my own sanity. Laura’s voice was incredible, and then she told me she loved me. How the hell am I supposed to function?
“Dude.” Erik skates up beside me, shaking his head. “Your girlfriend just made five thousand people forget they came here for hockey. Like I said, who gives a shit if she can’t skate? She’s fucking phenomenal.”
“I know,” I say, and I can't keep the pride out of my voice.
“That was unreal,” Alex adds, skating over.
“Yeah. She's—” I stop myself, because I can't explain it. Can't put into words what Laura is to me.
Everything. She's everything.
The ref blows the whistle, calling us to center ice for the opening face-off. As I skate into position, I glance toward the stands where Laura's now sitting with Lyss and Reign.
She's looking right at me.
I tap my stick against the ice twice, hoping she gets what I’m saying.
I've got you, Princess. Now watch me return the favor.
The puck drops and I'm moving, fueled by something I can't name. Every shift, every play, I'm skating like I'm possessed. The energy from Laura's performance is still buzzing through the arena, through me, and I channel it into the game.
Seven minutes into the first period, I steal the puck at center ice and blow past Brighton U’s defense. Their goalie squares up, but I see the opening—top shelf, glove side—and I take the shot.
Goal!
The horn blares and the red light flashes. My teammates mob me, but I'm already looking for Laura in the stands. She's on her feet, jumping and cheering, and the smile on her face is worth more than any hat trick.
“Holy shit, Hendricks!” Erik crashes into me with a laugh. “Where did that come from?”
“Feeling inspired,” I say simply.
The rest of the first period is a blur. I'm everywhere—winning face-offs, setting up plays, and ready to take on anyone. By the time the buzzer sounds for intermission, we're up 2-0 and both goals are mine.
As we file toward the tunnel, I spot my dad near the boards.
He's here?
I figured he might come since he always likes to come to games when he can, but his visits vastly reduced when the Crushers got their own TV rights deal.
Amelia and my mom aren’t here, either. It’s just my dad, standing alone, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
In the locker room, Coach runs through adjustments for the second period, but I'm only half-listening.
My mind keeps drifting back to Laura's face during the anthem, the way her voice filled every corner of this building, the way five thousand strangers fell in love with her in the span of ninety seconds.
The way she told me she was in love with me.
“Hendricks!” Coach's voice snaps me back. “You with us?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
“Don't be sorry. Just keep doing whatever you're doing out there. Best I've seen you play all season.”
The second period is more of the same. I'm in the zone, anticipating plays before they happen, finding spaces that shouldn't exist. I set up Erik for a goal, then score another myself on a breakaway that has the crowd on their feet again.
Every time I glance at the stands, Laura's watching. Every time our eyes meet, something passes between us—something bigger than hockey or singing or any of this.
By the third period, we're up 4 -1 and I score one more for good measure. A hat trick plus two assists. Five points in a single game.
My best performance ever.
When the final buzzer sounds, the arena erupts again, and this time it's for us. For the win, but I know a lot of them are still thinking about Laura's anthem, still buzzing from what they witnessed.
As I shake hands with the Brighton U players, I see my dad waiting near the tunnel.
“Hendricks! Great game, man!” several of the opposing players say as we file past each other.
In the locker room, the guys are celebrating.
“Five points!” Alex shouts, slapping my shoulder pad. “Five fucking points!”
“That's what having a talented girlfriend does to you,” Erik says with a knowing grin. “Maybe we all need to date singers.”
“You’d have to find a girl who could tolerate you first,” Brooks points out, and everyone laughs.
“Your dad's waiting outside,” Coach McKibbon says, appearing beside me.
“Outside?” That’s weird. He’ll usually walk straight into the locker room and talk with everyone.
“Yeah. He said he wanted to talk to you before you shower,” Coach says.
I nod and grab a towel, heading out to the hallway still in my full gear minus my helmet.
My dad's leaning against the wall, and when he sees me, his face lights up with that genuine pride that used to make me feel suffocated but now just makes me feel… seen.
“Scotty.” He pulls me into a hug, not caring about the sweat and smell. “That was incredible. Five points in one game?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“As fantastic as your performance was out there—” He pulls back, studying my face. “—there’s something else I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I wait.
“Was that your girl?” he asks. “The one who sang the national anthem…”
“How'd you guess?” I ask sarcastically. If the escorting her out on the ice wasn't enough of a declaration, then the kiss on her palm solidified it.
“It’s obvious, Scotty.” My dad studies my face for a second and sighs. “I'm sorry.”
“For?” I raise a confused brow.
“Everything,” he says, exasperated, before running a hand through his hair. “Seeing you out there, living your life... with her. It just confirmed everything your mother and I talked about after my last visit.”
“Which is?”
“You're happy.” It comes out slightly choked, which surprises me. “I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before.”
“Thanks.” I shift on my skates; it all feels a little strange to hear coming from my father.
His eyes are glazed, but he surely can't be crying.
He only ever cries when he's won a Stanley Cup.
The rest of the time he's the happiest dude I've ever met.
“But I've been happy, Dad. I'm one of the luckiest people on the planet to have you and Mom as my parents.”
“Yeah,” he says, and raises his hand before dropping it. “You always say that, and then you give me that smile you always flash for the camera.”
“Dad—”
“No. Let me say this, Scotty. I need to. I’m sorry.
I never intended on the reality show taking over yours and Amelia’s lives.
I’m sorry I was too busy clinging to my past to see that I was taking away your future.
I never really let you be a teenager without the glare of a life you didn’t ask for. ”
The hallway feels smaller suddenly, like his words are crowding the air between us. He’s never said anything like this before. Not even close.
“Dad…” I swallow hard and finally manage, “I’m not perfect either, you know.”
He actually smiles at that. “No shit. But you’re a good man. And I’m proud of you. Not because you scored five points. But because you found something real out there.” He nods toward where he last saw Laura. “Someone real.”
“You think we’re the real thing?”
My dad is quiet for a moment, then says, “The way you looked at her during the anthem… I've never seen you look at anyone like that.”
“Guess I was making it too obvious.”
“That's how I looked at your mother,” he continues, “the first time I really saw her. Not just as a skater or a beautiful woman, but as the person who was going to change my entire life.” He pauses. “You changed her too. Look what you’ve done for her.”
“She doesn't need my help now,” I say. “Tonight everyone saw what I’ve been seeing all along.”
My dad nods slowly. “You played the best game of your life tonight. Five points. Absolutely dominant out there.”
“I was motivated.”
“By her.”
“Yeah.”
“That's how it should be,” he says. “Your mother made me better at everything—hockey, life, being a person. When you find someone who inspires you to be better, you hold onto them.”
Emotion rises so fast it burns behind my eyes.
“Thanks, Dad,” I whisper. “For saying that.”
He pulls me into another hug, and for the first time in a long time, it doesn't feel suffocating. It feels right.
When he finally lets go, he claps my shoulder. “Now go shower. You smell like a moose that lost a fight.”
I laugh, shoving him lightly. “Love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off, pretending not to wipe his eyes. “And tell that girl of yours… we’re already huge fans.”
I watch him walk down the hallway toward the exit, his shoulders relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in years. Something warm loosens in my chest, something I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying around.
For the first time in a long time, the noise inside me quiets.
Everything… settles.
I draw in a breath—slow, steady, full—letting the weight of the night sink into my bones. The win. The goals. My dad’s words. Laura’s voice. Laura’s I love you.
I turn toward the locker room, but my mind isn’t on the shower or the sweat or the bruise developing on my hip.
It’s on her.
On the girl who walked onto the ice terrified and still managed to take the whole arena’s breath away.
On the girl who looked at me like I was worth loving in return.
I need to rinse off.
I need a second to breathe.
And then I’m going to find Laura Conners and kiss her senseless—kiss her like she’s the reason every part of me works better when she’s around.
Because she is.
She always has been.