Chapter 50
fifty
SEBASTIAN
I’m holding on to my control by a thread.
“She’s fine, man.” Maddox gives the back of my neck a squeeze as we wait for the announcer to call our names.
The crowd is thunderous in the arena, but it has nothing on the roar of my blood flooding through my veins. I want to kill him. “I know.”
“Then why do you still look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin?” Griffin’s expression is concerned.
A cynical part of me says he’s concerned because he’s worried I’ll fuck up and lose the game for us, even though I know that’s not true. “I should have been there to protect her.”
“You would have gotten in deep shit,” Logan says. “Indie never would have forgiven herself.”
He’s right. I know he is, but that doesn’t change the fact that she had to face him alone. Just like she’s faced the paparazzi and overstepping fans of her parents alone for the last ten years when we were apart.
I should have been there this whole time. If I’d never let that girl catch me off guard and kiss me that summer after senior year, maybe I could have saved her from all of it. Maybe I could have saved both of us a decade of pain.
“She’s with the ladies. They’ve got her. And Lexi said she’s worried about you. She doesn’t want to be the reason you’re off your game tonight, man. I get that it’s hard, but you need to take some deep breaths and steady yourself. For her, and for yourself.”
He’s right, but fuck. That bastard had his hands on her.
The announcer’s voice booms over the PA system.
The guys each give me one final look of support before they leap out onto the ice to thunderous applause and ear-splitting cheers.
I watch each of them go, feeling the weight of everything press down on me with more and more force until I’m alone in the tunnel.
When the announcer calls my name, my limbs weigh a thousand pounds, and not even the cheers of the fans can touch me.
Muscle memory takes over, and I lift my stick, giving the fans what they want, while my eyes go to the family box. With the lights low in the seats and pointed at us, I can’t make her out, can’t find her.
My skin crawls.
I’m only half here while we go through warm-ups and stretches. My mind is on Indie as I rough up the crease and stop the pucks my teammates send flying my way. I’m only half here when we file off the ice so the crew can prepare it. Only half here when we take to the ice again.
“You need to focus,” Madds says seriously, his hand holding the cage of my helmet and forcing me to meet his gaze. “We need you at your best tonight. And so does she.”
Everyone needs me to do something. To be my best. Another fifty pounds settles on my shoulders.
“I won’t let you down,” I vow.
Can’t let them all down.
My breaths come in short little bursts as Maddox and the Sharks’ captain meet at the red line for the faceoff. I hold it as the ref drops the puck. Breathe in when Maddox sends it toward Florida’s goal.
With every pass, my heart rate steadies. I never lose track of the puck, and it becomes meditative. Muscle memory and instinct take over, even though part of me is still with my girlfriend, still looking for her, still desperate to confirm she’s okay.
Logan takes a shot on Florida’s goal, but their tender slaps it away. Our offensive line battles with their defensive players as Logan, Madds, and Griffin try to maintain possession and attempt another goal, but the Sharks slam Logan into the plexiglass, then they’re skating down the ice toward me.
It doesn’t take long for our guys to gain on them while Ryder and Javi push back on Florida’s wingers. The puck bounces between sticks, the vulcanized rubber cracking against the graphite and carbon of stick blades. Back and forth, ground gained and lost, our guys battle it out with the Sharks.
Neither team is willing to concede ground or give up the first point, because this is it. Do or die. Win or lose. Glory or disgrace.
I square my shoulders against the extra weight that settles there.
The puck flies toward me at high speed, and instinct takes over. I drop to my knees, using my pads to shield the ice. It ricochets off, and the battle recommences.
It’s nonstop. Relentless. Every push toward the goal is met with resistance on both sides. The shots on goal numbers tick up more slowly than they usually do in the regular season, but they do rise.
Sweat drips down my face as I stop another attempt, the salt stinging my eyes.
“Keep your head in the game, Navarro,” Logan shouts as I almost let a puck by me.
My gaze jumps to the family box. I need to see her.
“Bash!”
Two seconds. I took my eye off the ice for two seconds.
The puck comes screaming toward my head.
I get my glove up, but I’m half a second too late.
It sails past me with a whoosh and hits the net.
The red light flashes in the arena, and the crowd boos loudly as the Sharks pile on the winger who scored the goal, celebrating being up one to nothing with two minutes left in the first.
“Hey.” Maddox comes to a stop inches from me, grabbing both sides of my helmet. “Are you okay?”
No.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“I need you to focus, brother. We have your back, but I need you to get your head in the game. She’s safe. She’s with the girls. Give her a reason to jump into your arms when she sees you. Give her something to take her mind off what happened, okay? She deserves that.”
She does.
“Okay. Yeah.” I nod, steel infusing my spine. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No man. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nobody’s perfect. Can’t be. Not even you. All I’m asking is that you do your best.”
“I can do that.” I will. I have to. For her. For them. For myself.
“Good. Let’s fucking go.” Maddox pats the top of my helmet as the Sharks break apart. He skates to the red line for another face-off, and I take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then let it out slowly.
One goal is all Florida is going to get.
I hope they enjoyed it.
“We’re down by one, but we have forty minutes left to turn this game around,” Coach Fry says from the middle of the locker room. Feet spread shoulder-width apart, his expression is calm, and I will myself to mirror him. “We knew this was going to be a battle. We were prepared for this.”
My teammates voice their agreement. I stay silent.
“I want you to brush off the last period. It’s the past. We can’t change it, but we don’t have to repeat it.
Keep the puck out of the defensive zone.
Support Navarro. They’re going to push hard, but we won’t let them succeed.
They’re in our barn. These are our fans.
This is our ice. You’ve worked your asses off to get to this point, so don’t slow down now.
I want you to get out on that ice and show the world who the Rogues are.
Show them what I already know. That you’re the best out there.
You’re champions. Show the world that you never give up on each other.
” Coach meets my gaze. “That we can win this together.”
Together. Not just me. Not just the offensive line. Together.
I give Coach Fry a solemn nod, which he returns.
“Now get out there and show the world what you’re made of.”
The locker room erupts in cheers and chants as Fry walks out, and the rest of us rise to follow him.
“You good, now?” Griffin asks as we make our way to the tunnel.
“Yeah.” I will be. Have to be. I keep reminding myself that Indie is safe and surrounded by our friends. Security kicked her ex out of the arena, and there’s no way he’s getting back in. She’s okay.
“Good. Shake off the last period, man. Time for beast mode.”
“I won’t let you guys down,” I promise.
“You’ve never let us down, bro. Not even when we lose.”
Griffin’s heartfelt words sink into my skin and fill me up. Like helium, they expand and make me buoyant. They counteract some of the weight I’ve been struggling under. Not all of it, but enough that there’s a renewed pep in my step as I hit the ice.
I’m focused as I rough up my crease and the guys square up against Florida at center ice.
When the puck drops, my heart is steady and my eyes track everything easily.
The Sharks get the puck, making an immediate drive toward my territory.
Ryder and Javier are there, ready to meet them, as they fight to keep the puck away from the net.
But Florida is hungry and relentless, and their left wing breaks through our blockade.
Time slows, my heart rate slows, and I take deliberate breaths.
I won’t let anything through.
The winger pulls his stick back and sends the puck flying, but I’m ready. The crowd roars when I catch it, and the teams get ready to face off at the circle closest to me at my right. I scan the crowd as I wait for the ref to drop the puck, and my breath catches in my throat.
Because there, in the third row from the boards, is a grinning Indie, with Lola and Megan flanking her.
“How?” I ask, even though she can’t hear me.
“Tell you later,” she mouths, those beautiful hazel eyes of her glittering with pleasure at my reaction.
She’s safe. Happy. And right there.
My lungs expand fully for the first time since I heard her ex showed up, and peace fills me, along with an unshakeable determination to win this game with the love of my life sitting less than a hundred feet away.
This is everything I’ve ever hoped for. Well, almost. But the rest of it will come. I know that now.
The puck drops, and I return my attention to the ice.
Every time I stop a shot, I swear I can pick Indie’s cheers out above the rest of the crowd.
It spurs me on, along with the growing excitement of my teammates.
And when Logan scores a goal ten minutes into the second, tying the game, I turn to watch Indie jump up and down with excitement, her arms around Lola and Megan, the three of them cheering and laughing.
I want to see them celebrate like that again.