Chapter 20
My lungs burn and my legs ache as I dig my skates into the ice as hard as I can, attempting to catch up to Canada’s winger who’s flying down the ice.
We’re already halfway through overtime, seventy-minutes of the hardest fought game of hockey I’ve ever played in.
I reach her just in time, using my stick to lift hers up off the ice, just as the puck is passed to her from across the ice.
Using my shoulder, I shove her body away from mine and grab the puck. I’m near the end of my shift and need to get off the ice before I’m caught out here with no energy left.
Picking my head up, I see my center skating toward the red line and bounce the puck off the boards to her so she can catch it in stride.
I wait until she hits the blue line and then head to the bench for a line change.
My chest heaves up and down as I take my seat on the bench. Shooting water into my mouth, I hear my coach’s voice.
“Don’t get comfortable, Smith. Your line is next up again.”
I nod, because it’s all I can do. I’m still attempting to calm my breathing, the taste of iron coating my mouth after exerting so much energy that last shift.
Liv’s shoulder bumps mine.
“Let’s fucking do this, Char. Give it all you got out there next shift. Let’s end this and take home that gold medal!”
Reaching my glove out, I knock mine against hers. “Let’s fucking end it.”
Twenty seconds later, the whistle blows when Canada ices the puck. They’re dead tired, two of their players leaning over, resting their sticks above their knees as they attempt to catch their breath.
If there was ever a chance to win this game, it’s now.
We line up for a faceoff on the goalie’s right side. I take my spot on the hashmarks and place my stick next to the Canadian winger’s, anxiously waiting for the ref to drop the puck.
Just before she does, I look over at my tired opponent. “Hope you can keep up.”
Her helmet turns toward mine just as the puck leaves the ref’s hands. I throw a shoulder into the Canadian winger and push off of her, finding my place in front of the net.
There’s a battle in the corner between Liv and one of their defense. Our center is there for support, so I stay where I am, keeping my feet moving in case of a loose puck.
Liv secures the puck on her stick and uses her backhand to pass the puck to our center, who immediately drives the net.
The lone Canadian defense doesn’t know what to do. I watch as she moves her attention between me and my center. After years of playing at the highest level, I know she’ll stick with me to take away the pass and leave the shot to her goalie.
My center takes a hard, low shot and I fight like hell for my position in front of the net.
The puck bounces off the goalie’s pad, landing right next to her in the crease.
With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push off of Canada’s defense. She’s putting up one hell of a fight, trying everything she can to keep me away from the puck.
I feel her stick push against my back and dive toward the puck that’s still sitting in the blue paint.
Everything moves in slow motion as I’m mid-air. The goalie looks over her shoulder at the puck, then proceeds to move her stick behind her, but it’s too late.
My stick connects with the puck before she can get there and I watch as the puck slides across the goal line.
Holy. Fuck.
It went in.
There’s no time to react. I’m immediately dogpiled by my teammates, their screams piercing my ear drums.
This is the greatest fucking day of my life.
Twenty-some bodies land on top of me but I don’t feel any pain. All I feel is exhilaration. Joy. Bliss.
There is not a good enough word to describe what this feels like.
One by one my teammates detach their bodies from the pile. Everyone but me and the other players on the ice are still wearing our helmets and gloves. Tossing them to the ice, I find Liv.
She throws her arms around me, tears streaming down her face.
“We did it, Char. We actually fucking did it.”
We’re both an absolute mess of tears and happiness, holding each other tight. When we finally break apart, I take turns hugging my teammates and coaches.
My eyes search the stands for my brother and Luke, but it’s absolute chaos, both on and off the ice.
I follow my team to center ice where we shake hands with Team Canada. The rivalry between our two teams is unmatched by anyone else in this sport. As much animosity as we might have toward each other during the game, there is so much respect between us too.
It’s impossible not to respect a team with so much talent and gold medals under their belt. Doesn’t mean I have to like them though.
I shake hands with one of my PWHL teammates who’s on Team Canada and give her a quick hug before making my way through the rest of the line.
The medal ceremony is about to begin, but my attention is on the fans. I thought Connor and Luke were sitting where Luke normally does, just off to the side of the bench, but I don’t see either of them there.
I’m about to give up when my eyes catch on movement behind our bench.
Luke and Connor are fighting their way through the hordes of people banging against the glass. They pause when they make it to the railing of the players’ tunnel.
The voice of the announcer fades away when Luke’s eyes meet mine. I may be thirty feet away on the ice, but I don’t miss the look on his face or the tears in his eyes.
The air is sucked from my lungs when I look over and see an identical look of pride on Connor’s face. Only there aren’t tears in his eyes. No, there are tears streaming down my big brother’s face.
I choke back a sob and then wave like an idiot at the two most important men in my life.