Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
HARLAN
JUNE
Anybody’s cup.
Oberbeck was playing better than I’d ever seen him, and I could tell he was locked all the way in. I was doing my best to do the same, to stay in, to know the game was important but it was also just another game.
That’s when everything started going to shit.
Korowski got slashed, and it must have been a moral defeat, because our power play team was the sloppiest I’d seen them in a long time.
In fact, they turned the puck over, and Miknevicius headed my way to try for a shortie.
I got into position. I’d taken him in a shootout. Surely I could handle him on a breakaway. I prepared, going the way he’d gone in our shootout.
But at the last second, he switched sides and popped the puck over my shoulder to the top of the net.
2 to 1, and we failed to score in the remaining minute of the power play.
After that, the guys just seemed tired. L.A. created a screen in front of my crease and got another one past me through traffic.
3 to 1, and only twenty minutes remaining to turn it around.
Sorrento stood at the gate, ushering everyone off the ice. He shouted a “let’s go!” at every one of us, following behind me and shaking my shoulders on my way back down the tunnel.
“Doing great, Royce. Shake it off.”
Things were tense in the locker room. I might have been imagining it, but I felt like no one wanted to look at me. Cordero squeezed my shoulder while I took a break from my pads. “You’re doing it. You got this.”
“I feel like it should be you,” I said, almost embarrassed to look up at him.
He shook his head. “Nope. It’s your turn. I know you’ve got this one.”
“What if I don’t get it? Everyone’s going to hate me.”
“They won’t. Because you’ve got it.”
Cap stood and paced in the middle of the locker room, gearing himself up to talk.
“We did not come all this way to back down. We did not bust our asses all season so we could take our foot off the gas now. They wanted to wear us down, but it’s game 7.
We wore them down too. There are no guarantees in hockey, and right now, they’re probably feeling like they’ve got us cornered.
And if you keep going like we’re going, they do have us cornered.
“But I know, that each and every one of you has more in you. I know every person in this room loves this game. I know every single person in this room would do fucking anything for anyone else in this room. This is the strongest team I’ve ever played on and do you know why that is?
We put our shit aside and brought the joy back to our game.
We started having fun again. We are going to win this game, and do you know why? ”
“Why?” Sorrento shouted.
“Because this is our game to win, this is our game to play, and we’re going to do it with a smile on our faces. Hell yeah?”
“Hell yeah!” we responded.
“Fuck yeah?”
“Fuck yeah!”
“Fuckin’ right?”
“Fuckin’ right!”
“Now gear up and let’s go win this thing.”
Cap’s speech had its intended effect. Leroy won the faceoff to open the third period, dropped back, and moved it into L.A.’s zone. Sorrento followed every move, in line with Leroy. When Leroy blasted it across the ice to Sorrento, he was ready with an absolute beauty of a one-timer.
3 to 2. We were clawing back.
But I must have relaxed too much. L.A. won the next faceoff and essentially copied what Leroy and Sorrento had done. Except this one went into the five-hole between my legs.
Fuck.
I’d let them score four fucking goals. I was falling apart. Should I ask to sub with Cordero? The man had three Cup titles under his belt. He, clearly, had what it takes to handle the pressure. I was afraid I didn’t.
I stood and squirted water over my hair and my face. I scrubbed my hand over my eyes and when my vision cleared, I saw Emma behind the glass. She patted the glass, then tapped her temple.
Clear your head.
What needs to happen next?
I needed to get my ass back between the posts and win this fucking game, to give my city a cup, to take what we had rightfully earned with every drop of sweat, every bruise, every moment that I felt too tired to go on.
I needed to win so I had options, so I had more offers, had a viable chance to make the life I wanted in Ohio.
I winked at Emma before tossing my hair and putting my helmet back on.
I deserved to be here. It was time to play like I did.
Then, I was witness to a miracle.
We caught up.
First, Lindberg and Garner teamed up for one. Then, with an absolutely sickening dangle, Owen got one in tight to Oberbeck’s crease.
We were tied 4-4 with three minutes to go.
Play was tight, a delicate balance of forecheck and not drawing penalties that could result in a power play. Both teams cracked shot after shot, trying to wear Oberbeck and me down.
With about forty-five seconds to go, the miracle happened.
Dylan Sorrento, beautiful man he was, stood in front of the net and deflected a poorly-angled shot by Leroy. Sorrento toppled backward and Leroy crouched down to hug him on the ground.
A new shot of adrenaline surged through me. We had less than a minute to get through and we’d have it.
The ensuing forty-two seconds of hockey were some of the toughest I’ve ever played, because Los Angeles wasn’t going down without a fight.
I was so wrapped up in it that I was surprised when the final buzzer sounded.
Gloves, helmets, and sticks flew. The volume in our arena was ear-splitting. And my thoughts had never been more clear.
I probably wouldn’t be here for my entire career.
This would be as good a time as any to walk away, to make a fresh start.
Our roster would be split every which way, with trades flying all over the league to spread the talent of the champion team.
But right here, right now, I couldn’t consciously choose to walk away from this.
I wanted to stay, and I wanted Emma to stay with me.
Exhausted. Exhilarated. Terrified and hopeful for what the future might hold. I was all of them.
But for the moment, it was time to celebrate.
I put on my championship hat and hugged every single person on our team and coaching staff.
I went through the handshake line, and by some miracle, I didn’t bite Miknevicius’s head off. We even exchanged a shoulder pat. Oberbeck and I stopped and talked at the end of the line.
“Hell of a season,” I told him.
“You too, man.”
“Same time, same place next year?” I asked.
He laughed. “Nah, we’ll beat you in four next year.” He pointed at me. “Unless I’ll see you sooner in my backyard?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Tempting, but not just yet.”
He patted my shoulder. “I get it, man.”
I took my turn hoisting the Cup. We posed for the team picture.
And then it was time to see the people we loved most.
My parents, my sister, Emma, and Liam all appeared in the tunnel.
Emma squeezed between a few people who were being more cautious on the ice.
Emma ran on tiptoe and jumped at me. I was only able to hold her up for a second with all my gear on, but for that second, she kissed all over my face.
When I put her on the ground, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny paper crane. “I hope your wish came true.”
I suspended my lips over hers, tipping her chin up with my thumb. “I got my wish before the puck dropped.”
Emma’s smile widened, and her eyes filled with tears before flicking to my lips. We melted into a long, hot kiss that drew a whoop from my mom and a “Mom!” from Liam.
Joy surrounded us. Our fans stuck around to cheer us on and soak up the moment. Cap dropped to one knee in front of Violet, because of course he did. Liam announced he was going to be Owen’s roommate.
This was what it was like, when everything you ever wished for and the things you never dreamed you’d want all happen.