Chapter 35
Jamie
Itossed and turned all night. My mind is on one million things, and I’m stressed as fuck when I should be fucking thrilled.
I saw the way Ellie looked at me, like I was about to shatter her world all over again.
I hate that look. It’s well deserved, I guess.
However, I made the decision that I’m going to ask her to come with me.
When all is said and done, I want her by my side.
No, I need her. I don’t plan on leaving her behind.
I could never. Not after everything that’s happened between us this past semester.
Taking a deep breath, I shake my body out, getting rid of all the tension and all the thoughts that don’t have to with the game tonight.
It’s one of the last games of the semester before winter break, and this might be one of the last times I get to be their coach.
These guys need a win. We’ve worked our asses off, and after Cramer, Callahan, Grieves, and Roslavic came and showed the Wolves how to get shit done, they’ve been playing harder than ever.
They have drive, they have energy, and they have the want to win.
This is it for them. We’re playing Atlantic Academy again, and this is the Wolves time to fucking shine, so they better play their asses off.
The energy in the rink feels electric. I think this might be our biggest crowd yet.
I wanted my friends to be here tonight, but they had to get back home.
I was also kind of hopeful that Ellie would show up, but as far as I can see, she’s not here.
I can’t let that distract me from what’s happening right now though.
The hype music blasts loudly as I lean against the boards during warmups, arms folded, trying to ignore the familiar ache building in my chest. The one that usually symbolizes the beginning of a panic attack.
I take a few deep breaths, shaking my hands out and focusing on the ice.
I’ve never seen a therapist, and I never plan to.
The only person that knows I even have panic attacks is Ellie.
I won’t let my enemies know I have a weakness, and I won’t have my team thinking I’m undeserving of my captaincy, which I will get back once I return.
Feeling my adrenaline slowing down, I give the bleachers one last look to see if Ellie might have shown up, but she’s not there. She’s not. She’s come to almost every game this season, but she’s not at one of the most important ones?
“Coach,” Logan says, gliding up beside me and distracting me from what was about to be a rabbit hole of bad thoughts. “You think we can actually win this one?”
I meet his eyes, and for once, I see determination and hope there.
“Yeah,” I tell him confidently. “Yeah, I do.”
Ten minutes later, Braydon, our star center is at the faceoff. He looks more ready than I’ve ever seen him. The music in the rink stops, and the quiet makes the air feel thicker. It seems like everyone’s at the edge of their seats, waiting to see who gets possession.
Braydon taps the blade of his stick once against the ice.
The Atlantic player across from him leans in.
The ref lowers the puck, and time stops as it falls to the ice.
Clack.
Braydon wins it clean. The puck snaps back to Andersson who passes it to Logan. The Wolves keep possession of the puck for a minute or two before Paul Novak sends it flying in the other direction, giving it right to one of Atlantic’s players. Fuck.
We get it back, but it’s not long before there’s another turnover. My palms are sweating and my heart is pounding inside of my chest as I watch the game play out, knowing I have no control over the outcome.
By the end of the first period, the score is still zero to zero, which isn’t terrible. We’ve still got a chance to change that in the second.
The second period begins with a rush. A new sense of urgency and hope spreading through the team like wildfire.
Atlantic’s guys are intense. They’re like sharks, and they smell blood in the water. I watch helplessly as one of the Wolves loses the puck, and by the time anyone is by him to help, the Atlantic player shoots it right past Levi. Fucking shit.
The light flashes, the buzzer goes off, and for a split second, I see it.
The shoulders dropping, the hope leaving their bodies, and I know I need to step up and be their coach for this one.
I know what they’re feeling. Well, maybe not exactly because I’ve never experienced a losing streak like this, but either way, I get it.
Falling behind sucks ass. Losing sucks worse.
But there’s still more game to play, and they’re not allowed to give up yet.
I step forward, my voice cutting through the noise. “Look at me!”
The whole bench turns.
“It’s one goal,” I say. “It’s not the end yet. There’s ten minutes to go in the second, and then we’ve got the third. Keep your heads in the game and your sticks out of your asses, you hear me?”
Something seems to shift in their eyes, like they’re actually hearing what I’m telling them, thank fuck.
“Next shift,” I yell as the next line jumps over the boards and onto the ice.
The rest of the game is a blur.
We score twice in five minutes, Logan gets a penalty for a high stick, which I try to argue but to no avail, and the other team scores on the powerplay.
At the end of the second, we’re tied two to two.
The guys are more hyped up in the locker room, and I’m feeling more confident and less like I’m about to be sucked into the ground.
This is good, I just wish Ellie could be here to see it.
Shit. I don’t remember the last time I wanted a girl to be there to witness these moments with me.
When did Ellie become the one person I want to tell everything to? When did she become my person?
With five minutes left and still tied, the tension is unbelievable. God, I miss that rush at the end of a game where it’s all or nothing and everyone’s revved up. And then it comes, the moment that seems to have been building the entire game.
One of the Atlantic players, skates by Braydon, his stick getting caught under Braydon’s skate, and he goes down hard.
The wolves gather around and before he’s even off the ice, Logan’s gloves fly off.
The ref blows the whistle, the crowd is on their feet, cheering like this is the best thing they’ve seen in their lives.
My guys on the bench erupt, their sticks banging against the boards as they shout at their teammates on the ice.
As much as I should be yelling at them to stop fighting like idiots and play the goddamn game, I’m actually enjoying this.
My heart pounds, and for a brief moment, I remember what that feels like.
The adrenaline and anger surging through my veins.
The refs dive in, grabbing jerseys, and trying to pull bodies apart. By the time they finally get them apart, the Atlantic player has a bloody nose, and Logan sports a nice gash on his cheek.
I probably should be angry, but I’m actually kind of proud. They stood up for their teammate. Their brother. That’s what this whole thing was about. Getting them to play as a team, a unit. And they did.
Logan and the Atlantic player get five minutes in the box. They’re out for the remainder of the game. My anxiety spike, knowing Logan is probably one of the best players on the team, but I’m confident the remaining players can do this.
It’s five on five, and the crowd is going crazy. Everyone is on their feet, girls are jumping up and down, and I know it’s giving the guys the extra push they need to get this win.
With seven seconds left, I’m sweating and my pulse is racing. Novak gets possession of the puck, and he gets a breakaway, skating down the ice faster than I’ve ever seen him go.
And then… the lights begin to flash and the horn goes off. The sound of cow bells, noise makers, and applause fills the arena. I let out a long breath, finally feeling like I can breathe again. The guys pile onto the goalie in a mess of limbs and disbelief.
My hands burn from clapping so hard, and I’m grinning from ear to ear like a fucking idiot. I’m proud of these guys. I’m proud of what they’ve overcome, and how hard they’ve worked to get here.
And once again, the only person I want to share this moment with, is Ellie Monroe.