64. DMITRI

64

DMITRI

There is nothing like playing Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. The stadium rains down cheers, boos, screams, wishes, and hopes onto the rink.

Beside me, Hughes stretches. "How's the knee?"

I test it out, doing a maneuver on the ice. "Solid."

It helps that a team of doctors have been de-stressing the old injury. Advancements have been made since I got it medically treated seven years ago. I should have come forward a long time ago. My silence and fear, letting my dad's voice cycle in my head, kept me from telling anyone about the pain. It could have been managed a lot better.

I'll need to take more time off after this season, but there's hope. There's a career in hockey in my future if I want it.

I do.

I breathe in the frigid air, feeding off the energy crackling in the crowd. I love this enough to do it for as long as I'm able to. It's what I'm great at.

Across the rink, Smith and the Blades drip with aggression. They are desperate for the win like we are. Everyone is mentally preparing, doing their last bit of warm-up before the hardest fight of the season starts.

I skate to her.

When our eyes meet, my heart thumps against my ribs. I'll never get sick of this. I'll treasure it forever, how she's here choosing to watch me, supporting me. It's a fucking gift.

When her palm goes on the glass, a tsunami of emotion crashes into me. On the biggest night of my life, all I want to do is say I love you.

My glove comes up to tap the other side.

I breathe deeply, watching her mouth words. You got this.

"I love you."

She gasps.

"Holy shit," says Sonya, who sits next to her.

Holy shit is right. It just came out of me. I hadn't meant to let it out like this.

NO.

No no no no no no no.

I have to climb over the glass and explain, but there's no time to do that. Fuck! Referees are blowing their whistles. I can't keep standing here. The team is counting on me to play. Emmad calls my name.

I skate away. My knee might be healing, but I've ripped open a new injury. My heart is bleeding.

Have I said it too early? Is she going to feel cornered by my feelings? Will she think I didn't mean it because of the way it came out?

Questions strangle me by my throat, but I can't do anything right now.

The puck is about to drop.