44. JT

CHAPTER 44

JT

What was it Coach said the other day? My job is just to play the game. As simple as it sounds, he’s probably right. I have to put my faith in my training and my teammates and in the man who got us here for the second year in a row.

I have to shut out all the noise and just play.

Nothing to it, right?

Tell that to the big fucker from St. Sebastian who’s decided to merge hockey and wrestling into one fucked up sport where the refs don’t call shit.

Yeah, I’m having a blast out here while this brute plays dirty so his teammates can slip one past me.

Well, they can try.

We’re up one-nothing and all we have to do is hang on for nine more minutes.

To be fair, nine minutes is more like half an hour in hockey.

I do my fifty-seventh starfish impression of the night and put myself every-fucking-where in the net all at once, forcing the puck back into play and sending my teammates and opponents to the other end of the ice. They’re not gone long, because one of St. Sebastian’s wingers steals the puck from Booker in a move that would be impressive if he were wearing burgundy and silver instead of black and gold.

I’m ready for him when he pops the puck off the end of his stick. It flies through the air and I can almost see him smile in triumph.

Until I knock that shit right down. There’s no time for his wide-eyed expression because Will is on a tear and he’s not stopping until he puts another point on the board. Booker feeds him the puck, but their goalie gets there in time to stop it. The big brute has possession and I’m getting ready for to defend my net, but Mickey has other ideas. He swipes the puck and passes it to Will who makes the play. They cheer for a minute before switching lines. As he hops over the boards, Mickey gives me an upnod.

Hell yeah. We got this.

I spend so much time down on the ice I feel like I should start making snow angels. But I’m blocking shots and making saves and keeping that zero up on the scoreboard.

“Briiiick!” Ollie’s voice rings out as he glides around the net.

For once, the nickname doesn’t bother me at all. I kinda like it, honestly. A brick wall is stable, protective, and damn near impenetrable.

Those are compliments in my book.

I stand guard as the clock ticks down. With a minute left, Will sends a sweet shot to Booker who knocks it right over the line. Those two are destined for the NHL and I can’t wait to watch them take it by storm. I hope to hell my view is from a net just like this one.

The roar of the crowd is deafening, and the energy is electric. We’ve got ten seconds left and even if the brute’s little minions score on me now, we’re still taking home the title.

But I’m not going out like that. Hell no. I knock two shots out and stop a third with my leg just as the buzzer sounds.

Confetti rains down. My teammates are screaming their heads off, and Coach looks proud as hell. We did it. We’re bringing home a national title.

I find Maggie in the stands and blow two kisses in her direction. Since the tournament is in DC this year, and it’s only an hour and a half away, Maggie’s doctor cleared her to come, and I’m glad she’s here to watch us get the win. I’ll be just as happy, though, when we’re back in our apartment. Don’t get me wrong, I love the thrill of a win, especially after last year’s loss. But I’m ready for some downtime. We’ve got about four weeks until the Nugget’s arrival, and I’m ready to coast until the main event.