Chapter 26 #2
“If Connor is having a bad night Harper’s going to have my balls,” I mutter to no one in particular as I adjust my gear.
“Nah,” Bodhi says, bumping my shoulder. “She’ll just make you sleep on the couch.” He turns, wagging his brow like he thinks he’s a fucking genius. “But maybe if you offer her your balls…” He shrugs like he’s giving me the perfect suggestion to get myself out of the doghouse.
“Yeah I’m not sure that’ll be enough this time, Roche.”
The buzzer sounds for the third period, and we file out of the locker room. Griffin bumps my shoulder as we head toward the tunnel.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Whatever you decide, I got your back.”
I nod, throat tight. “Thanks.”
When I finally glance up in the stands, Harper’s on her phone. I see the way her brows knit together. The way she looks down at Connor, then back at the ice.
She’s worried.
Fuck.
And suddenly the weight of it hits me. This isn’t just my decision anymore. It’s hers. It’s Connor’s. It’s the life we’re trying to build without everything else tearing it apart first.
I should’ve told Harper I was calling Phil. I know we talked about it a couple weeks ago but I should’ve told her I just wanted to see what my options are. She’s a goddamn agent, she would’ve understood. Hell, she could’ve helped talk me through a few things.
Coach claps his hand onto my shoulder. “Lock it in, Meers. Forget the noise and just play your fucking heart out.”
I pull my helmet back on, jaw tight.
“Yes, sir.”
For Connor.
For Harper.
For the ten years I didn’t know I was missing.
I step back onto the ice as the crowd roars, the lights blazing, the rumors swirling overhead like a storm I can’t stop.
But for the next twenty minutes?
I’m just a defenseman again.
And I play like I’ve got everything to lose.
Quinton Shay tries to get cute with a toe drag near the boards and I poke-check him clean, lifting his stick and stealing the puck like I’ve been doing it my whole damn life. I skate it out myself this time, head up, lungs burning, knowing Harper’s watching.
Knowing Connor’s watching.
Midway through the third, Chicago finally cracks.
Milo Landric takes a penalty for interference after absolutely leveling Ledger behind the play. The ref’s arm goes up immediately and the building erupts.
Power play.
I stay out.
We cycle the puck, moving the pesky birds side to side until their legs start to go. August feeds it to Oliver at the half wall, who adds a pass through traffic to me at the point.
I hesitate just long enough to draw Colby Nelson toward me. Then I pass it.
Bodhi sneaks in from behind and buries it top shelf style.
GOAL!
The horn blares and the crowd loses its mind. Bodhi slams into the glass in celebration and I’m there a second later, pulling him into a hug as red lights flash.
“Let’s fucking GO, Roche! Way to go!”
“Thanks for the assist, old man!”
I glance up instinctively and find my family celebrating with the team. Connor is jumping so hard Harper has her hands on his shoulders to keep him from vaulting over the glass. She’s laughing, her eyes bright, clapping like she’s just as proud as if she’d scored the goal herself.
My chest tightens all over again.
I love them both so damn much.
And I never want to hurt them.
Fuck, I just want to win this game for them.
For me.
For all of us.
But Chicago doesn’t roll over.
They never do.
With under five minutes left, Colby Nelson sneaks one past Barrett off a brutal rebound and suddenly it’s tied again. The air shifts and everyone is tense as overtime looms.
I skate back to position, my jaw clenched and my heart hammering.
This is it.
The puck drops in OT and it’s chaos, end to end.
Dex Foster tries to spring August Blackstone on a breakaway and I chase him down, diving just enough to lift his stick and knock the puck loose at the last second. My body slams into the boards and pain flares, but I’m already back up and skating.
Griffin sends it forward to Ledger, Ledger to Oliver, Oliver back to me as I join the rush.
I cross the blue line, fake a shot, and draw two defenders as I slide the puck to Ledger streaking down the slot.
He won’t miss.
He can’t miss.
Ledger snaps it home, the puck hitting the back of the net, and the arena explodes.
Game over.
I throw my arms up as my teammates swarm Ledger, sticks clattering, gloves flying. The roar is deafening, the kind that rattles your ribcage and makes everything else fade away.
As we circle back toward the bench, I look up one more time.
Harper is crying, Connor is screaming, and for the first time all night, the noise inside my head goes quiet.
Harper catches my gaze and taps her heart twice before tapping the glass in front of her.
Holy fuck.
She’s done it again.
Our signal.
Tap, tap…touch.
The signal she’s always given me to tell me she’s here and she’s got my back.
The signal that reminds me I’m not alone.
I give her the same signal, touching the space over my heart twice and tapping an invisible glass in front of me, knowing that whatever happens next, rumors, retirement talks, press storms…
This?
This life with Harper and Connor?
This is what I want more than anything.