68. CORA
CORA
The arena is already shaking and its only warm ups. It’s the kind of energy you feel in your bones. Almost seventeen thousand people buzzing with anticipation, the music loud, and the student section already on their feet.
Top two teams in college hockey—a regular season matchup that feels anything but regular.
Great Lakes U Otters vs The Ohio Cougars. Lane’s new team versus the one he left behind.
The rivalry alone would’ve packed this place. But tonight there’s something else in the air, too. Word spread fast that Lane was going to play. The game is even being streamed on ESPN 2.
When the Otters skate out for warmups, the crowd roars, but when Lane steps onto the ice—it’s different.
His teammates swarm him immediately, tapping his helmet, shoving his shoulder, hyping him up like they’ve been waiting for this moment. Like they believe in him.
Lane just laughs, shoving one of them back before gliding toward the boards.
As if maybe, finally, he feels it too. I glance down the row toward my dad.
For a second I’m back in our kitchen last night, my arms holding him, thanking him. For listening and considering he may have had the situation wrong. And he even apologized. But also made it incredibly clear that he still isn’t thrilled about whatever is going on between the two of us.
My dad is watching the team, taking it in. Then Lane skates past the bench and my dad can’t help but clap right alongside every Otter fan.
The lights dim and the teams line up—the tension is thick and almost everyone remains standing. When the puck drops, the game explodes into motion.
It’s everything you’d expect when the two best teams in the country finally meet. But Lane is everywhere. He seems faster, hungry, like he’s ready to make a point.
Midway through the first period, he steals the puck in the neutral zone and takes off.
It feels like the entire arena is holding its breath when the defender tries to step up, but Lane slips past him like it’s nothing.
Another defender tries to close the gap but they’ve got no shot.
Lane cuts across the space and snaps the puck high.
The net ripples and the arena erupts. The sound is deafening. Lane throws his arms up, pure joy breaking across his face as his teammates pile into him against the glass.
I’m on my feet before I even realize it. Laughing. Clapping. Shouting with everyone else.
There’s something about watching someone you love finally get exactly what they deserve.
The Cougars push back hard in the second. They tie it once. Then again.
But the Otters never lose momentum. Not with Lane setting the pace, making the team keep up.
By the time the final buzzer sounds, the scoreboard reads:
Otters 4. Cougars 3.
Players slam sticks on the ice. Gloves go flying. The student section chants and the Otters fans follow along.
Sure, it’s a regular season game. But this one means more than even they know.
Out on the ice, Lane lifts his head toward the stands. For a second—just a second—his eyes find mine. He points to me and then pats his chest. Right where his heart is.
And the smile that spreads across his face is brighter than anything in this whole building.
I think back to yesterday, to the way he looked standing in that hallway, bracing himself for the worst. Now, here he is. Skating under Great Lakes U arena lights, having scored two goals with the crowd chanting his name.
Exactly where he belongs.