53. Kallis
Kallis
The sound of the crowd bounces off the high ceiling of The Woods. Screaming, cheering, shouting it’s so deafening I would cover my ears if I didn’t need to hear every single word the announcer says in clear detail.
My heart clenches at how handsome Orso looks when he focuses, especially because he had the same expression when he ate me out in the car before we entered The Woods. ‘For good luck,’ he’d claimed.
Mathan swamps the net far behind him, and Artie leans forward at his nearly-permanent position on the bench below us, as rapt as I am. Aspen and I are in the same seats we were in when I first saw them play, Ameila hugging her side as tension thickens around us.
One whistle and the puck drops. The clack of their sticks is still crystal clear through the crowd.
But Orso loses the advantage. I suck in a breath, clutching my hands against my chest as I try to calm myself. I’ve never been more wired.
All they have to do is stall the puck long enough for the clock to run out, and they’ll win the championships for the first time since the Bears were formed.
No one ever expected the Golden Bears to go so far, but everyone loves an underdog. The Genies have been cup winners three years in a row, and our boys’ hopes of winning are minuscule.
But no one outside the team knows I’d told my pack they can bite me if they win the cup. Since the rest of the Bears found out, they’ve been playing like real beasts.
The relationship between my three Bears and me stayed secret to everyone but those closest to us, which obviously includes everyone in The Woods.
They’d just made the playoffs last year, reaching ninth in the final rankings, and surprising everybody.
The four of us spent more time together as I became immersed in my research, along with management training and other skills the medical team introduced me to. But when the new season started, it was time for me to leave.
A new doctor replaced me when my year was up, and I returned to the city. It was clear the players preferred their method of data collection over mine.
As Aspen promised, my research and connection to the team put me in the direct line for the Head of Neuroscience position at Philadelphia General. Another year or two, and I’ll finally step into the role and look to my next goal of Hospital Director.
It’s been hard maintaining a relationship when we live so far apart, and I’m glad we kept pursuing our passions, because it’s led us to this place.
With my heart in my throat, I almost cry out as a Genie forward shoots the puck straight at Mathan.
He leaps to the right, and it looks like it’s a miss.
But it pings off the post and fires into the net behind him, slashing past his ear.
There are gasps and moans as the clock freezes with ten seconds to go.
Absolute shock fills our side of the stadium as the Genies fans cheer.
I want to run over to Mathan and pour all my love onto him. Even from so far away, I can see the color drain from his face, along with hope from the Bears’ fans.
With the score tied, there’s still overtime or shootouts if all else fails, but everything hinges on this.
“Please, please, please,” Aspen prays from beside me, clutching my hand, my fingers aching as hers shake. Placing second is still an achievement, but the Bears haven’t come this far to go home without the cup.
Everything is a blur. I don’t know how Orso can stand the tension. The whole rink plunges into silence as the whistle blows and the puck drops. Orso catches it and skates like lightning.
One burst of speed: eight seconds—one dodge: five seconds—soaring forward: two seconds—and one hit so hard I feel it in my body as the timer ticks to zero, just as the puck flies past the goalie’s waist and bounces against the net behind the goalie.
There’s a single moment of pure silence among twenty thousand people before everything explodes.
The camera stays on Orso, capturing his surprise as he loses his footing and sails right into the barrier.
Screams erupt from around us, and I slam my hands over my ears as our half of the stadium bursts with pure joy.
A sea of brown and yellow ripples as fans cheer, shout, hug each other, waving scarves and boards.
I’m swept away by it, my heart pounding, overstimulated and ready to throw myself into the chaos just to reach them.
The Bears have piled on top of Orso, and the rest of the players have spilled onto the ice. Some are crying, others yelling, and the roof nearly shakes from the noise.
The second I remove my hands, Aspen and Ameila’s screams tear out from beside me. There’s no stopping her as she bolts from her seat, swinging her daughter in her arms. “Bee, hurry! They’re waiting for us!” she cries out before she races off.
My smile is so wide that I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s the same happiness I experience every time I’m showered with their love.
Artie is waving manically, the only one left on the bench with his back to the ice, looking straight up into the crowd as people jump and cheer. I only just heard his voice between the celebrating fans.
“Your ass is mine!” he yells, and enough people turn to look at him that I want to duck under my seat and hide.
But I take the same route as Aspen to get down to the team. The moment I reach the Bears’ bench, Artie is on me. A quick hug coupled with a fierce kiss, and he suddenly grabs my hand and starts tugging me away.
“Come on!” Artie beams. “We’ve got to go!”
I don’t understand why he’s eager to leave when something so monumental has happened that some Bears fans are weeping in their seats because it means everything to them.
“But Orso and Mathan—”
“Don’t worry! I’ve already told them where to meet us. But you just have to see this!”