21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
There are twelve minutes left. The building changes after that. Their crowd starts believing it. You can hear it in the noise before every faceoff, in the way they rise when Michigan carries through neutral ice, in the little edge that gets added to everything.
We keep playing.
Coach shortens the bench. Benson and Stanley start getting shifted around. Mackey and I are over the boards twice before I have fully caught my breath from the shift before.
By the last two minutes, Percy is out, and we are six on five.
We get possession, lose it, win it back.
A point shot hits somebody in front and misses wide.
Michigan clears but misses the empty net.
We come back in with less than a minute.
Benson gets the puck low. Blue takes it behind the net and tries to force something through traffic.
It doesn’t go. The puck kicks toward the wall, and I step down to keep the play alive.
Ten seconds.
It comes back toward the line. I send it across.
Five.
Michigan gets a stick on it.
Then the horn goes.
For a second, I don’t move.
The arena explodes around us. Michigan’s bench empties. Their goalie disappears under a pile of bodies. Gloves hit the ice. Guys are screaming. Everybody in maize is standing.
I stay near the blue line with both hands on the top of my stick and watch it happen.
4-2.
Big Ten champions.
Not us.
Mackey skates over and bumps his shoulder into mine. “Come on.”
I nod.
We go through the handshake line. Say good game. Listen to people tell us good luck next week when nobody knows yet if next week exists. Then we leave the ice while Michigan stays.
The worst part is walking away while somebody else keeps celebrating. The room afterward is quiet. Nobody puts music on. Nobody is throwing tape or arguing about a play or pretending this is just another loss.
Coach gives us time before he says anything. When he finally does, he keeps it short. He tells us the season is not over until somebody tells us it is. He tells us the résumé should be enough. He reminds us that tomorrow is tomorrow, and tonight we deal with this one.
Stanley sits at his stall with his elbows on his knees and his head down. Benson is two spots away, staring at the floor. Percy has already showered and is sitting half dressed with a towel around his shoulders, quieter than usual even for him.
I take my gear off slowly, shower, and get dressed. All normal things, but none of them feel normal.
My phone has twelve messages by the time I finally look at it.
Team chat.
My parents.
A couple guys from home.
Gianna.
Hers is the only one I open.
Gianna: I’m proud of you.
I read it once. Then again.
Me: Thanks, G.
Then I put the phone away.
Tomorrow will be tomorrow. Tonight, all I can do is sit in a room full of guys I have spent years with and listen to another team celebrate through the walls.
G is waiting at Hawthorne when we get back.
I know she will be because she told me she would but seeing her through the front window still does something to me.
The living room is fuller than usual for a night after a loss.
Lucy is there. Mara, Melly, Penelope, Aspen.
Nobody planned anything. Nobody sent out a message telling people to come over. They just did.
That is what Hawthorne has become this year. People show up when something matters.
The second I walk through the door, Gianna gets to her feet.
She doesn’t ask me how I am from across the room or try to read my face in front of everybody. She just walks straight over, takes my hand, and says quietly, “Come upstairs.”
I follow her. My room is dark when we go in.
Gianna switches on the lamp beside the bed while I close the door behind us.
The room looks exactly the way I left it that morning, which feels wrong somehow.
Same clothes over the chair. Same notebook on the desk.
Same water bottle beside the bed. Everything in here is the same. Except for me.
Gianna turns toward me and waits. There’s nothing careful or nervous in her face. She is just giving me room to say whatever comes out first.
“I’m pissed,” I finally say.
She waits.
“I hate losing to them.”
She nods.
“And I hate that now we have to wait.”
“Yeah.”
That is apparently all I need.
I sit on the edge of the bed, and Gianna comes to stand between my knees. Her arms settle around my shoulders while mine go around her waist. For a while, neither of us says anything. I rest my forehead against her stomach and let her fingers move slowly through my hair.
The house is quieter up here. I can hear voices downstairs every once in a while, but not enough to make out what anybody is saying.
“I don’t want it to be over,” I say eventually.
The words come out against her shirt.
Her hand pauses for half a second, then starts moving through my hair again. “I know.”
I close my eyes. “I thought Senior Night would be the part that got to me. It wasn’t.” I lift my head and look up at her. “It’s this.”
Her brows pull together slightly. “What?”
“Not knowing if I get another game.”
Something in her face softens.
I look down again, my hands still resting at her waist. “I’ve played hockey since I was four. I know it ends.”
“Yeah,” she says, massaging my scalp with her fingertips.
“I just don’t want somebody else deciding the day.”
I pull her closer until she is standing fully between my knees again.
“There are things I’m ready for after,” I say.
“Like grad school?”
“Yeah.”
“What else?”
I look at her. That answer does not take any thought. “You.”
Gianna goes completely still.
I keep my eyes on hers.
“I’m not worried about you being after hockey,” I say. “I want you there.”
Her eyes get shiny almost immediately. “Rowan.”
“What?”
“That was a lot.”
“It wasn’t.” Maybe it was. I slide my hands farther around her waist. “I mean it.”
She leans down and kisses me. Nothing urgent about it. When she pulls back, she keeps her forehead against mine. “You’re getting another game.”
I breathe out slowly. “You don’t know that.”
“No.” She kisses me once more. “But tomorrow, when your name goes up on that screen, I’m going to be so fucking annoying.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
“And if it doesn’t, I’m still here.”
I pull her into my lap. She settles there easily, arms wrapping around my neck, and for a while we just stay like that.
I sleep better than I expect to.