Chapter 45
CHAPTER 45
T here is no way this is going to work. Hunter is out of his goddamn mind. My hands trembled as I stared down at my brother’s jersey. We had been working for weeks for this moment and now that it’s here; I don’t think I can do it.
I braided my hair and pinned it up so that Jackson’s helmet would fit securely on my head without letting my long hair loose. His pads were a little bulkier than mine, but with the extra size, you almost couldn’t tell the difference between us. I slid the jersey over my head, pulling it down over my gear. Glancing down, I double-checked the laces on my skates. Hunter said he’d sneak me into the locker room right before the team walked out to the tunnel. Luckily, Coach Grimes had a pregame ritual of sulking in his office while the guys jammed out in the locker room. Hunt told me he would come out briefly before the game, grunt out some words of encouragement, and be the first one in the tunnel. His absence made this plan plausible.
Breathing deeply, I placed Jackson’s helmet over my head. This was it, make it or break it in time. Playing against guys didn’t make me nervous—Hunter, and the others had wo rked with me to make sure I could do this seamlessly. What gnawed at my stomach was what would happen if someone wanted to fight. Hockey was notorious for violence. It was inevitable. If it happened, Hunter would have my back. Same with the other guys. I’m protected. There was nothing to fear.
The door to the women’s locker room opened, and I glanced up, spotting Hunter. He smiled at me, decked out in his kit, skates and all. The last time I saw him like this was the night he gave me his hoodie to walk home in. Admiration surged in my chest. He looked larger than life. This man had my heart in every capacity, and there wouldn’t be a time when he didn’t. Even if years from now, he got sick of me and wanted someone else, Hunter would always own my heart.
“You ready to kick some ass, Sunshine?” He asked.
Nerves seized my throat, silencing my voice. Hunter sensed my trepidation, and moved to take my hands in his.
“You’ve got this. Axel, Crew, and I have your back. You’re a hell of a player and you will have no problems on that ice tonight, you hear me?” His eyes implored my own. My heart jumped into my throat as a single thought burst to the forefront of my mind.
I loved Hunter St. James.
I think I knew it for the last couple of weeks, but I didn’t realize it until this moment. Swallowing my fear, I looked into the swirling gray of his irises.
“I love you,” I blurted.
Hunter’s dimples deepened as his smile grew, “I know you do Sunshine, I was wondering when you’d finally say it.”
I smacked him on the pads. “Such a romantic.” Hunter’s grip on my hands held me back when I tried to move around him.
His lips captured my own, and I deepened the kiss. My tongue ran along his lip as he opened his mouth, allowing me access. It was a quick, passionate kiss that I didn’t want to end. Hunter pulled away with a groan .
“I love you too, Sunshine.” We both smiled at each other, and he squeezed my hand three times.
“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”
Hunter laughed, “I just did, Sunshine.”
Three squeezes. Three words. Hunter had been telling me he loved me every time he did that. Meaning, he had told me he loved me weeks ago. I was an idiot.
“Let’s go get you on Team USA,” Hunter smacked my butt, walking around me towards the exit.
Things felt natural between us and I wish I had seen him as more than my brother’s best friend sooner. There were three years that we could’ve been together, yet I was blind to it. The past couldn’t be changed, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t wish for it. All that mattered now was that we were together and nothing would change that. Hunter believed in me when no one else did. He pulled me from the darkest depth of my self-hatred. Hunter may not want people to know it, but he has the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever known, and it’s all mine.
Lucky bitch.
Coach Grimes exited his office right as I snuck into the men’s locker room. It’s weird for me to see him coming out the door instead of my dad, but I’m okay with that now. They say acceptance is the last stage of grief and I am finally there. What happened to my dad was a horrific accident—accident being the key word. Not my actions, nor anyone else’s, are to blame. Life is a continuous Ferris wheel and as we go around on the ride, our car is going to sway unexpectedly—and that’s okay—it’s supposed to do that.
Coach Grimes turned to the team and grunted, “Let’s do this, boys,” and stalked away. Hunter shrugged and patted my shoulder when I raised my eyebrow at Grimes’ speech.
“Told you so,” He whispered.
Currently, the only people on the team who knew I was not Jackson were the guys. To everyone else, I was Jax. The backup goalie, Jake, is making his debut tonight. The team seemed jittery. A major change up this close to play-off messed with a lot of guys’ heads. Especially the superstitious ones. Imagine if they knew a girl was going out on the ice with them. It’d be pandemonium.
It was time to enter the tunnel, and I took a steadying breath before following the team. The arena was dark besides the choreographed light show for the team intro. The crowd was screaming as the hockey team’s intro song played. Before I knew it, I circled the ice with the rest of the guys. No one noticed anything amiss, and I was thankful.
It felt good to be back on the ice in a team setting. Albeit different, since there were a hell of a lot more people in attendance than I’ve ever experienced. The crowd was deafening around us, making my nerves kick up a notch.
You are a badass Maci Rae. Chin up.
The national anthem plays while the team stands, hands over our hearts. Coach Grimes yells out some last-minute platitudes before the referee whistles for the face off.
Skating towards center ice, I can’t help but to search the stands. Jackson and Kennedy sit with Coach Karr. Jackson has his BU hockey beanie pulled down over his hair, and a pair of chunky non-prescription glasses on. He looks ridiculous in the ‘disguise’ he insisted on. Kennedy is sitting opposite of Jackson, wearing his away game jersey again. She’s leaning against Jackson’s shoulder, the contact intimate. The two of them are chatting Coach Karr’s ears off. At least Jackson understands hockey. Who knows what Kennedy is saying up there—although it will only be good things. Jackson catches my stare, giving me a thumbs up.
This was it, now or never. One puck drop to define my Olympic career. The referee was waiting when I made it to center ice. My eyes met my opponent’s. He was bigger than me in both height and mass. His skin was pimpled, and when he smirked, a scar became apparent through his top lip. I toyed with my mouth guard, letting it hang outside of my lips. The center for Paetow U smirk grew as his muddy brown eyes sized me up. He thought he had this in the bag based on my size alone. Where he had mass, I had speed, which ?was essential to a face off.
The whistle came, and the world slowed down for the second time in my life. My breathing stalled while the puck descended to the ice. One second the world was in slow motion and the next I was slapping the puck back to Axel and taking off down the ice. The crowd roared to the advantage. From here on out, it was muscle memory.
Axel and I moved the puck down the ice and he passed it to me for an open shot. I dodged a defenseman from the opposite team and took a shot at the goal. Their goalie deflected it easily from the crease. We battled for possession before the puck was dumped back down to our end of the ice. I hustled to skate after it and got checked into the boards by a player from the opposite team.
Hunter came past me, his eyes filled with concern. I dipped my chin in reassurance. Sure, it hurt, but it was nothing the adrenaline didn’t cover.
We continued on throughout the first and second periods, changing lines as Coach Grimes called us in and out. He was none the wiser to who I was. It helped that I was strategic throughout the game, coming in and off the bench as far from Coach as possible.
Hunter leaned into me while I was gulping down water on the sidelines. “You’re doing great. Keep the shots up on goal. You definitely have her interest.” He used his chin to motion up into the stands where Coach Karr sat. Not wanting to use my voice, I nodded in response.
Axel bumped shoulders with me. “You’ve got this Rae!” I shot him a smile and then we were back into the game. We were halfway through the third period and were up one to zero. Axel had been the one to score with my assist during the second period.
A breakaway opportunity arose, and I didn’t hesitate. Axel flanked me as I took off down the ice. There was an open opportunity on the goal and I was going to take it. Skating to the left, I lined up my wrist shot. With a deep breath; I swung my stick deftly. Before finding out if I sunk the puck, my body went flying forward.
The defensemen for Paetow had come barreling into my back right after I made my hit. I went flying down the ice into the boards. My head hit the base of the board, making my helmet roll off. Pain ricocheted through my skull and my ears rang. The whistle blew as the buzzer sounded. Chaos erupted on the ice. In a daze, I pulled myself up, shaking off the dirty cross-check.
Hunter was in the face of the player that hit me, his stick abandoned. Axel came to my side, helping to pull me up while Crew fended off a few of Paetow’s players.
“Shit, Maci, your hair,” Axel said once I was upright.
A hush had fallen over the crowd and I looked up at Axel, confused. He pointed his gloved hand at my braid, which now laid limply across my chest. The entire arena could see that I wasn’t Jackson.
Pandemonium broke out on the bench as Paetow’s coach started freaking out. He kept screaming that BU needed to forfeit the game. Coach Grimes was red in the face, screaming at our line to get off the ice. In the stands, Jackson and Kennedy were trying to explain the situation to Coach Karr. Looking at the surrounding chaos, my shoulders slumped. We failed. There was no way I’d get the spot. I had assured Karr up and down that both teams were cooperating with me playing. I could kiss my Olympic dreams goodbye.
Hunter attempted to calm Coach Grimes down while I approached the bench. “Look at your damn roster!” He yelled .
Coach kept flailing his clipboard around, his already red face turning darker. A referee stood near the bench, waiting for Coach to calm down to could get a word in.
My eyes flitted between the referee and Coach Grimes. A vein throbbed in his forehead while he yelled at Hunter.
“She’s on the fucking roster! This is all legal!” Hunter screamed at both the referee and coach. I gulped.
Coach took a deep, flustered breath as Hunter’s words permeated his consciousness.
“Look at the roster, Coach,” Hunter pleaded. Coach Grimes' eyes blinked rapidly, looking from Hunter to me, and back again. He glanced down at his clipboard, his eyebrows furrowed while he read the list of names.
Hunter leaned forward and pointed with his gloved hand, “Number 15, Maci Rae,” He read off. The referee looked confused and so did Coach. Hunter didn’t wait and continued his explanation.
“You signed off on it last week when I had you sign those papers for the peewee club. And before you even start—” he pointed at the ref, “This is completely legal. I read the NCAA handbook three times. There is no rule about a woman playing on a men's hockey team.”
Hunter looked smug. This man thought of everything. He made Coach Grimes change the roster for me and made this game play one hundred percent legal. BU wouldn’t forfeit the game. Coach looked flabbergasted. The referee leaned over the bench to look at the roster with my name on it.
They couldn’t even make a call that I was in an illegal uniform. Jackson’s uniform matched the roster. Thank god they only used last names on jerseys. The referee looked at Coach, “It’s your call. You can toss her out of the game or we can finish this period.”
I needed to say something. The look on Coach’s face was one of rage and disappointment. We had shown him up and underm ined his authority, the one thing he had been struggling to establish this entire season.
“My Dad would have never given me the chance to skate with the guys,” I said, making eye contact with Coach.
His eyes crinkled, confusion swirling in his irises. “He was my biggest champion about equality in sports, but the second I suggested practicing with this team, he was quick to create excuses. You didn’t even question it. By all accounts, I was one of the boys tonight. I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to play the game that I loved and that my dad loved more than me again. Thank you Coach, it’s been an honor.”
I swung my leg over the board to let myself out of the game. He didn’t deserve to be the bad guy, so I’d make the call for him.
Hunter tried to protest, but it was Coach’s hand on my arm that stopped me. I looked up into his brown eyes and for a brief moment; I saw my dad’s face instead of his.
“Play the rest of the game kid, you deserve it.” He looked over to the referee, “Tell Paetow to shove it up his ass and take it up with the NCAA, we have a game to finish.”
Coach Grimes crossed his arms over his chest and chomped down on his gum. He looked at me and flicked his chin towards the ice, “Go, finish this.”
Hunter smiled at me, smacking my helmet before he skated back towards Paetow’s goal. The referee said something to the Coach on the other bench and made his way to restart the game. There would be a face-off near Paetow’s goal with one minute left on the clock. All we had to do was fight for another sixty seconds and this game was ours.
Axel went to take the face off and I skated to my position near the goal. In a perfect world, we would win the face off and I could score again. One minute in hockey was a long time. The game moved fast and slow all at once. It wasn’t uncommon for the last minute of a game to have more action in it than the entire three period game. It’s like when Chicago scored two goals in ten seconds during their Stanley cup run. Anything was possible at the last minute of a game.
I held my breath for the whistle and suddenly we were off again. We lost the face off and Paetow dumped the puck away from their goal. I prayed the referees didn’t call icing so we could continue to play. The clock moved quicker and quicker as we skated up and down the ice. Hunter smiled the entire time. I loved how his dimples deepened while he played the game we loved.
All too quickly, the whistle blew. We had won. The boys hurtled towards me, sticks and gloves thrown in the air as if we had just won Lord Stanley ourselves. They jumped at me and cheered. Hunter and Axel sandwiched me between them, causing me to laugh. Spectators in the stands freaked out over our win. Jackson gave me two thumbs up as Coach Karr made her way to the exit. Kennedy threw her arms around him, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn they kissed.
I used to think that I needed Team USA to move past the trauma of my dad’s death. But I didn’t. I needed this feeling right here, the camaraderie of hockey and the molten eyes of Hunter St. James. Hunter caressed my cheek with his hand. It didn't matter that the team enveloped us, cheering and celebrating. As long as I had Hunter, we could do anything.
He leaned down towards me, his smile growing, “Congrats Sunshine, you did it,” He whispered.
“No, we did it.” I kissed him like I would for the rest of my life—like he was the oxygen I needed to survive this world.