32. Tyson
thirty-two
Tyson
It’s game four, and I’m taped up and my jersey is on straight with no stickers. I tap my stick against the floor as I wait for the Zamboni to finish its lap, and my legs jitter with restless energy that only shows up when I’m on the edge of something.
Pucks are going to be flying.
I can feel a win tonight.
Call me superstitious, but I know better than to say it out loud.
I already know for sure Lottie isn’t here.
She texted she’s a no-go with her mom. She should be in the stands.
Instead, she’s hiding out and stealing peeks of the game on her phone whenever her mom isn’t looking.
That’s no way to live. The whole situation has added anger to the mix of adrenaline I’m already feeling.
Maybe I have a bad attitude about it.
Okay, not maybe.
I do.
It’s been a fantasy of mine for years that I would skate to her section and tap the Plexiglass to wave at my girlfriend.
We’re finally together, but she can’t be here.
Well, I’ll make someone pay for that. And since I can’t get mad at her mom without hurting Lottie, I’m funneling all my emotion into this game.
The Stripes will be eating my star dust tonight.
Three minutes in, and I’m already being handed puck-shaped gifts on a platter. My chest rattles as everything starts breaking in my favor. One of the defenders sends it along the ice like he’s leading a retirement community parade, and I’m on him in a second, swiping the puck.
Then I’m gone, charging their goal. It’s a clean shot.
I fire, and it’s a beauty, sailing into the net before the goalie can even react.
I throw my head back and roar. Levi crashes into me first, yelling something incoherent.
I steal a quick second to close my eyes and picture Lottie smiling.
I just need her here with me—even if it’s only in my head.
She has to know I’m doing all this for us.
Her mom doesn’t like hockey, but it brings in an income and offers a solid career. If I lead my team to victory, I’ll be more than an NHL star—I’ll be a national hero. Surely, Senator Halloway can respect that.
Unfortunately, the Stripes don’t stay down. Mid-period, they respond, tying the game. The plays blur together, and at one point a guy snaps his stick clean in half and gets sent off. Reeves slashes, and we head to the power play. A sting spreads through my gut. I narrow my eyes and focus forward.
All I need to do is look at the puck, and I can sense that it’s mine.
I wind up at the point, uncork a slap shot with everything I’ve got, and I know by the sound it makes that it’s pure gold.
And just like that, I score my second goal of the night. When I skate past the Stripes’ bench, Houli’s smirk is loaded for me. “Careful, Ty,” he chirps. “You’re going to peak too early.”
A niggling in the back of my head warns me to stay humble, but it’s Houli. I can’t resist a sharp, “You mind your own business.” He laughs it off, and the horn blares, bringing the first period to an end.
And what a start that was.
The second period turns into a tug-of-war.
They score.
We score.
They annoyingly score again, like they didn’t get the memo that this is supposed to be my best game ever.
I’ve got a woman to impress. Even worse than that, I have a brown-nosing senator to impress.
They aren’t supposed to have that much stamina.
Still, it only pushes me to dig deeper—there is nothing on this planet preventing me from leading this team to victory tonight.
Not with Lottie watching at home and her snooty mom turning her nose up at me.
Stripes are going down.
And just like that, we get another power play. I hate to get cocky, but I’m grinning wide. My fingers jitter, waiting for the perfect moment. When the puck comes to me, I don’t even skate. I snap it toward their goal.
And BOOM!
Hat trick.
It’s official—my first career hat trick! I toss my gloves, and the arena erupts. My teammates pile on me. All of that is nothing compared to the fact I know, miles away, Lottie is cheering. I let out a sigh, sending my thoughts her way.
This is for you, my queen.
All of everything I have is for us.
I hope it’s enough.
I’m ready for the game to be over right then and there, but we’ve got a whole other period to play. I end up nose-to-nose with Taz again, and we’re hauled apart. Stripe’s player, Dante loses his mind, takes a major penalty, and the Stripes’ rhythm visually starts to unravel.
Which is good news for us, because I’m focused.
Like I predicted, this game keeps giving us more gifts.
Stripes are shooting, but we bury them with our speed, and they can’t keep up.
When the final horn sounds, the scoreboard lights up with our hard-earned victory.
Usually, I’m quick to leave the ice. Tonight I skate to a stop in front of our goal, catching my breath and letting sweat drip from my brow into my eyes.
I’m not expecting to see her, but I look into the stands and imagine Lottie there. She should be here. Yeah, I know she saw it on her phone.
It’s not the same.
It’s not right.
Something needs to change.
Then I smile anyway. Because tonight, I played the best game of my life, and Lottie saw everything I’m doing is for us.
Even if that means tonight, I go home alone.
It’s crazy how in tune my body is when Lottie’s around.
I don’t see her, but I get this notion to adjust my shirt.
Right then, I glance over my shoulder, and she’s walking my way, wearing a pink sundress that hugs her waist like it doesn’t know it has the power to make my heart race.
Her hair is loose and down her back, exactly how she normally wears it when she’s not working.
She’s absolutely the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I can’t believe she’s here to see me.
We haven’t even spoken yet, but I quickly scan the courtyard.
We’re behind the National Gallery. I spent an hour researching where we could go today.
I didn’t want to hide in her car, but we still have to tidy up her arrangement with Bodan before getting careless.
I think if we are careful this place is perfect for our first official date.
It's right after practice and still early enough in the day that it's not packed with people.
The fountain trickles softly, setting the mood.
With everything pressing down on us, we need a calm environment.
“Hey, you.” She flashes her palm at me, and we sit on the fountain’s edge, leaving a foot between us, taking caution before we trust we’re safe.
“Hey.” I take in every beautiful feature of her face and marvel at my life. All the years of watching her from afar, wishing she’d notice me, tumble into my chest. Though we haven’t done anything to warrant a strong reaction, emotion clogs my throat.
Great. I’m already malfunctioning. Swallowing, I push it down. “I haven’t gotten a chance to ask you about the funeral yet. How was it?”
“It was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and I didn’t go in thinking it would be easy.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” My jaw tightens before I can stop it. I hate thinking about her with Bodan, even if I trust her. “What happened?”
“Well, my mom was my mom.” Her forced laugh is brittle.
“That’s expected. But Bodan’s sweet grandma…
looked at me with so much hope. Like I would save her family from all the grief.
Maybe I’m projecting, but I could hardly speak to her.
I was so grateful when my mom announced she was too important to stay any longer.
” Shaking her head she adds, “For the first time in my life, my mom’s overinflated ego actually saved me. ”
“Your mom said that?”
“No, not in those words. But you know my mom. It was all in her tone.”
“So, how was Bodan?” I try to keep my face neutral, but the thought of her even being next to him makes me fume.
“Fine. He knows the job we’re doing. He’s professional about it. Though…I started to feel like maybe he’s enjoying the attention too.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand in alarm, and I lean in. “How so?”
“I don’t know. It was odd. Like, if it were me, I’d protect my grandma from the lie, and I wouldn’t want to drag her into it.
But he seemed to relish the idea our dating pleased her.
It rubbed me the wrong way. I feel guilty.
I wonder if he feels the same, now that his whole family is being lied to.
” She gestures toward me and tacks on, “Trust me, I can’t wait to fake break up with him. ”
“Why wait?” I say, dead serious. “Point me in his direction. I’ll do it for you.”
“You can’t break up with people you aren’t dating.”
“Watch me.” I lift my chin. “I can do it by text or in person. Shoot, I can even write a poem if that’s what you need to give me permission. I’m with you on this. Three is a crowd. We need him out of our relationship.”
She blinks hard, like she misheard me. “Our relationship?”
The word hangs between us, fragile as glass, until I add a soft, “Yeah.”
“Oh.” She looks down at her hands, twisting the bracelet on her wrist. For a second, she looks overwhelmed, and my stomach squeezes. I’d anticipated pleasure in her reply, but now I’m worried. “I didn’t know we were calling it that,” she says after a quiet moment.
“Oops.” I try to lighten the mood with a playful tone, though nothing about this feels playful.
It’s delicate, and I slide a little closer until our arms almost bump and soften my voice.
“I’ve been calling it that in my head ever since we kissed.
I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. Maybe I should have asked first…”
“I…” Her gaze lifts, meeting mine, and a zap explodes in my chest. “I don’t want to mess this up by rushing.”