39. JT

CHAPTER 39

JT

We’ve faced Woodcock twice before, but today’s game is even more brutal than the last. That’s probably because this isn’t regular season play. It’s regionals and we both want the same thing: a chance to play in the Frozen Four.

My guys are on their game today, but Dutton Wagner is relentless. He’s nearly as big as Will and just as fast. He’s been slinging the puck at me for what feels like hours, but Ollie and Santos have been running interference like the champs they are.

There’s a line change, so I take a second to guzzle some water before scanning the crowd.

Maggie’s here.

My girlfriend’s not a hockey fan. But she’s my fan. And she’s here in the stands wearing my jersey and stretching it out and I’m fucking proud as hell every time I can spare a glance in her direction.

Fresh Bainbridge players skate onto the ice and the look of determination on Mickey’s face gives me the burst of energy I need. He hates Wagner with a passion, and not only because he’s as good a center as Will is. Wagner’s got an arrogance on the ice, a confidence that just shoves other skaters out of the way. He makes his job look effortless when it’s anything but. And for a guy like Mickey, a guy who has to work like hell to focus, a guy who always feels like he’s catching up to the rest of us, that kind of swagger is irritating as shit.

I watch the ice as players careen toward Woodcock’s goal. Will takes a shot but DeStefano blocks it, the same way he blocks the rebound that Deano shoots toward the corner of the net.

Wagner nabs the puck and starts skating toward me. It takes a second for the other players to catch up and even from this distance, I can see the hungry gleam in his eye. And all I can think is, Bring it, motherfucker .

He’s a hell of a player, and if life had turned out differently and I were in a godawful purple and green jersey right now, I’d be damn glad he was on my side.

But it didn’t. And he isn’t.

Adrenaline pumps through me as I watch the puck glide over the ice and scoop it with my glove. I stopped a goal, but they’re relentless. Wagner’s a puck hog and when his teammate lunges for the little rubber disc they all chase around, he edges the guy out and sends the biscuit soaring.

It’s a damn good shot.

Lucky thing that I’m a damn good goalie.

I knock it back into play and watch with pride as Will steals it and hauls ass to the other end. Piper, their cocky-as-shit freshman forward, cuts Will’s run short and tips the puck back in my direction. There’s a scramble and I’m following every move. I see the second Piper’s stick hooks Mickey’s skate, causing him to stumble. I skate back into the crease and let Piper come to me. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, and I can’t wait to wipe it off. Rosco’s up on him now, vying for the puck, but Piper’s quick as he skates to the back of the net. While they duke it out, I stay in position, my center of gravity low, and my limbs ready for whatever they throw at me—literally .

Piper swings around to my left but launches it wide. I can’t spare a glance to read the disappointment on his face, though, because I know without a doubt that Wagner’s on the rebound. My eyes dart to his wrist and I splay my legs in front of the goal, stretching my right leg out to make the save. The puck goes right back into play, and I pull my body up to block Wagner’s rebound shot, sending that rubber disc back into play.

Mickey leaps into action and shoots the puck to Rosco. Booker gets into the mix, and I love watching my teammates do what they do best. When we drown out all the noise, we’re unstoppable.

Fuck. We were unstoppable until Blue Halliday came and fucked things up. The guy’s as big as Santos but as stealthy as a freaking secret agent. He wove in between Rosco and Booker and stoke the puck like it was waiting for him.

The clock is counting down and we’re up by one goal. If they score on me, there’s no doubt this game goes into overtime and I’m not letting that happen.

Blue delivers the puck to Wagner who fakes left then tips it right. That fucker. I have a fraction of a second to fill the net, so I throw my body into the splits and let the tip of my skate knock the puck away.

Will’s right there to grab it and head for the other end of the ice. He’s so damn smooth that he’s passing the blue line before Piper realizes he’s lost his man. Eyes on the goal, Will tips the puck in Mickey’s direction, and that’s all it takes. All eyes are on Mickey. Wagner’s practically on top of him and DeStefano’s in goal, ready for whatever Mickey’s sending his way.

But Mickey doesn’t have the puck anymore. Will does. He shoots in a nearly empty net and the lamp lights to signal our win.

I’m cheering like a maniac as I leave my post and skate to center ice to join my teammates. Two strides in, I feel a burning sensation radiating through my hip. Fuck. My last save was messy and I’m paying for it now. I need to ice it and rest and stretch the hell out of it. But first, I need to celebrate.

The locker room is in total chaos and if they let us stay here much longer, it’s going to start to resemble the hockey house, RIP.

We secured the win and our spot in the Frozen Four less than half an hour ago, but you’d think it was two minutes ago the way these guys are screaming. Will’s been cornered by a reporter, Ollie’s parading around in a jockstrap, and somebody opened a door they shouldn’t have, and let some raucous fans in. I’m not complaining, though, because Maggie’s part of the rowdy crew. Well, I guess she’s not rowdy, but she’s gorgeous. And she’s everything I need right now. Her eyes find mine and I weave through the crowded room just to get to her. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold on tight.

“You were amazing!” she says, bouncing just like Mickey does. “Oh, my god, JT. I am officially a hockey fan. That was unreal. Do you have, like, six pairs of eyes or something.”

“Yeah,” I deadpan. “It’s a recessive gene, though, so Nugget might just have the one pair.”

She smacks my chest playfully as I lean in for a kiss. A throat clears behind me and for a second, I’m sure it’s Coach.

My whole body stiffens but then I turn to see the same reporter who was chatting with Will has set her sights on me. I’ve never been great in interviews, but it’s a necessary skill. And between Maggie, the baby, and our win, I’m feeling pretty damn good right now. I shoot her a smile and that’s all the invitation she needs to shove a microphone in my face. Maggie’s trying to duck out the frame, but I keep her close as the reporter fires a question at me .

“That was quite a save in the last minute of the game,” she says, looking at her cameraman then back at me. “You’ve had a stellar sophomore season with the Wolves. Tell me, JT, what’s the key to your success in the net?”

I don’t even hesitate. I wrap my arms around Maggie so that her back is to my front. My hands cup her belly as I smile broadly. “I’ve got the best support system a guy could ask for. My team’s got my back one hundred percent, and they know I have theirs. And I have my family,” I say with pride, rubbing my hand lovingly over Maggie’s unmistakable bump. “Couldn’t do it without my family.”

The reporter beams like she just got the money shot. “I guess congratulations are in order, and not just on your win here in Allentown tonight. Best of luck at the Frozen Four!”

A second later, she’s chasing down Mickey, her cameraman hot on her heels.

“Welp,” Maggie says, looking at me with wide eyes, “I guess there’s no hiding it now.”

I laugh. “Hiding what, Cinderella? You’re thirty-three weeks and change. Hate to break it to you, my beautiful princess, but you ain’t hiding shit these days. And I’m damn glad. I’m done hiding.”

Her cheeks redden. “I know, it’s just…”

“Just what?” I ask. I thought we were over all the sneaking around.

Maggie shrugs. “Do you really want reporters and analysts to talk about the fact that your girlfriend is pregnant? Don’t you want them to talk about your game? Your future?”

I hold Maggie’s face in my hands. “You and the Nugget are my future. End of story. Besides, I’ve got nothing to hide and everything to be fucking ecstatic about. And I don’t care who knows that I love you and that we’re having a baby. I’m damn proud of our family, Maggie. I don’t think a sweaty interview at regionals is going to make the highlight reels for years to come, but if Nugget ever catches any footage of us, I don’t want them to think for a second that I had anything to hide or be embarrassed about. Unexpected isn’t unwanted, Maggie.”

“No, I know that. It’s not that I’m not?—”

“Shh, Cinderella. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about my own blighted family tree. There’s no pride there, Maggie. Just disappointment and bitterness. But that’s not me. That’s not us.”

“It’s not,” she insists, kissing me soundly.

Ollie lets out a piercing whistle about a foot from my ear.

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome,” Ollie says, taking an exaggerated bow.

“For what?” I ask. “The fact you just split my damn eardrum?”

Ollie flips me the bird. “For being the greatest matchmaker, dumbass.”

Maggie laughs. “Woah, hold up. I met you in January and you’re taking credit for getting the two of us together?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ollie scoffs. “It was my idea to go to Kappa. Without my genius, this little bundle of joy might not even be here right now.”

Pete lets out a howl across the locker room and Ollie jumps over two benches just to join in.

“You know what’s crazy?” I ask Maggie.

“Your teammates?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “And the fact that Ollie totally believes we have him to thank for the Nugget.”

“That is so messed up,” she says, shaking her head in wonder.

“You want messed up? Just wait until I show you the list of names the guys came up with.”

I hear Coach Anderson holler that one of our buses is out front, so I take Maggie by the hand. I am more than ready to get back to the hotel. It’s crowded in here, so I pivot to the left to avoid a cooler and Maggie’s eyes widen when I let out a hiss of pain.

“Are you okay?” she asks, worry woven into her words.

“Never better. I tweaked my hip a little on that last save, but I’m good. Nothing some ice a soak can’t fix. Or…maybe some physical therapy role play?” I suggest, waggling my eyebrows.

“You are such a dork,” she laughs, rolling her eyes.

I keep her hand in mine as we make our way through the corridor. “That wasn’t a no…”