4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Mac
Game day.
Despite missing my morning coffee, I was buzzing. There was a lot riding on this game for me. Winning it meant we tied things up and would make it to the last game of the finals. Losing meant the Yetis would win and my future with the Evergreens would be up in the air.
No one had talked to me about a contract extension yet. I was trying my best to be patient—not my strong suit.
And it had been criminally too long since I had been with Em or Bardot. We slept in the same bed, but with all the hiccups in our wedding planning, the insane schedule I was currently on, Bardot’s schedule that fell a little earlier than mine because of food prep, and plain old exhaustion, we were lucky to kiss goodbye every morning and goodnight every night before we passed out.
Last night should have been the perfect time to reconnect and lose ourselves in each other, and dammit, I had really been looking forward to it. But as I walked in the door, the phone rang. When Em’s face had fallen two seconds into the conversation, I knew it was about the wedding.
All I wanted to do was marry the loves of my life. I wanted to stand up in front of anyone who would witness me proclaim to the world that Emily Avery and Sebastian Bardot were mine. Now and forevermore, their souls were entwined with mine. They had me thinking sappy, poetic shit like that and I was reaching a boiling point of keeping that love contained. Eloping sounded more and more appealing with every passing day and every bit of bad news.
I had been right. Em’s face had fallen because the caterer had called to let us know her sister announced her wedding for…drum roll please…the same day as our wedding. We’d be getting our full deposit back, which was great since I didn’t know if I had a job in the fall, but the news made Bash scramble.
He tried to convince us he could cater the whole thing. I didn’t want that, though. His food was orgasmic, but I wanted him focused on the wedding. I wanted him refreshed and doted on, so I could devour him on our wedding night. With the way our sex life was going, I was holding onto the promise of that night with everything in me.
Spooning Pink all night was heaven, but the half-chub I had been sporting all day wasn’t doing anything to help me get my head in the game.
Strelow burst into the locker room, ripping my thoughts away from a fantasy where I tracked Em down and threw her into the shower with Bardot, where I watched them go at each other until I joined in.
“What’s up your ass?”
Strelow glanced up for a second and shook his head. “I’m stressed, Savage. There’s so much riding on this damn game.”
His stress focused me. He was older than me, and this could be one of his last chances at the cup. All the other noise faded to the back of my mind, and I clasped his shoulder.
“We’re winning tonight.”
The roar of the crowd vibrated through my bones, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
The scoreboard read 2-2, with three minutes left in the period.
This was it.
The final push.
The moment that determined whether we made it to game seven.
The Yetis had gotten cocky in this final period. If they got in our heads, they won. If not, they still had another shot in a couple of days. We had to win. I couldn’t stand to watch their mascot—a bumbling, towering pile of snow named Blizzard—skate around our arena.
This was our turf.
I skated to the center, heart pounding in my ears, eyes locked on the puck about to drop.
My team surrounded me. My wingmen, Joe and Sloan, were ready to take off. Strelow and Roman were behind us, ready to fend off the Yetis if they got too close. Lightning was at his place in front of the net.
We were ready.
I didn’t have to look at my teammates to know we all had the same thought.
Win.
The puck dropped, and I snapped into action, winning the faceoff and sending it back to Roman. He quickly passed it to Strelow, who scanned the ice and sent the puck to Joe.
Joe took off, weaving through the defense with his incredible agility. I stayed close, anticipating his moves.
Joe passed to me as a Yeti defender closed in. I dodged left, then right, slipping past him. Another defender was on me instantly, but I passed to Sloan, who took a powerful slapshot.
The puck soared toward the goal, but their goalie made a spectacular save.
The puck was loose, and both teams scrambled. I skated hard, reaching the puck first and chipping it back to Strelow at the blue line. He fired a quick shot, but it was blocked by a defender.
Roman recovered the puck and passed it back to me as we regrouped. I took it into the offensive zone, my mind racing with the possibilities. The energy of my teammates coursed through me, all of us driven by the same desire to win.
I passed to Joe, who was streaking down the left side. He dodged a check and sent the puck back to me. I saw Sloan open and passed to him. He wound up to take another shot, but the puck was blocked again. This time, it deflected to Roman, who quickly passed to Strelow.
Strelow skated forward and faked a shot, drawing a defender away from the goal, and passed back to me.
I had a clear shot at the goal, but their goalie was ready. I hesitated for a split second, then saw Joe breaking free on the left side.
I passed to him and he immediately shot. The puck flew towards the net, and time seemed to slow down. The goalie lunged, but the puck sailed past his glove, hitting the back of the net.
My chest tightened as the arena erupted in cheers.
We had taken the lead with just over a minute left.
My teammates surrounded Joe, celebrating.
But the game wasn’t over yet.
We had to hold this lead.
We lined up for the faceoff, adrenaline pumping. I won the draw again, sending the puck to Roman. He passed to Strelow, who played it safe, dumping it deep into the offensive zone.
The opposing team’s defenseman retrieved the puck, but Joe was on him. He passed it back to me, and I sent it to Sloan. He took another shot, but it was blocked, the puck bouncing to the boards.
The other team regained control and started their attack. They moved quickly, desperate to tie the game again. Their center carried the puck into our zone, but Strelow and Roman were ready. Strelow checked him hard into the boards, and Roman picked up the loose puck.
Roman passed to me as I started up the ice. I skated hard, the ice flying by as I felt the seconds tick away. I passed to Joe, who sent it back to Roman. The crowd was on their feet, the noise deafening.
With thirty seconds left, the Yetis made a final push. But their plan didn’t work. Chaos erupted as everyone scrambled for the puck.
I dove into the fray, fighting for control. The puck shot to Sloan, who cleared it out of the zone.
Ten seconds left on the clock.
The other team regained the puck and made one last desperate attempt. Their center carried it into our zone, but Roman intercepted a pass and cleared it down the ice.
The final buzzer sounded, and the arena exploded.
We had won.
I threw my stick into the air, excitement and relief flooding my body.
My teammates rushed to me, and we embraced in a tight huddle, thoughts of contracts and every other stress a distant memory.
I scanned the crowd, finding Em and Bardot, their eyes locked on me, smiles plastered on their faces, their hands linked.
My heart swelled.
This victory wasn’t just for the team, but for everyone who had supported us, believed in us.
We skated around the ice, celebrating with the fans, sharing this incredible moment as the Yeti fans filed out.
Lightning, Strelow, Roman, Joe, Sloan, and I had done it. We had fought hard, and we had won.
We were carried off the ice to the locker room where drinks flowed and victory music blared. I took a moment to sit back, the reality of our win sinking in. My body ached, but it was a good pain, a reminder of the battle we had fought and won.
Strelow came over, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. “We did it, man!”
I grinned from ear to ear and clapped his back. “We sure did.”
Lightning and Roman joined us, raising their bottles in a toast.
“To the champs!” Roman said, his eyes shining.
“To the champs,” we echoed, clinking our bottles together.
My eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Em stood, filming the scene for our internet fans to take part in the celebration. The soft smile on her face sent an ache of longing through me and I handed Strelow my glass.
He followed my gaze and smirked.
“Go get her, Savage.”