Chapter 16

Aaron

South Carolina is warmer than back home in Kissing Springs, but it’s still ice and hockey as I step into the Columbia Chargers' arena. The distant ping of a puck hitting the glass, the muffled roar of the crowd—it's the same in every rink, yet it never gets old.

As a proud part of the Yellowjackets, we are the invaders, here to steal a win. My skates are laced tight, my stick feels just right in my grip, and that restlessness pulses through my veins. It's game time.

In the visitor's locker room, I find my corner. It’s the one spot I claim no matter where we are. The ritual is always the same; it's comforting, grounding. My dad's old watch sits heavy on my wrist, the leather strap worn from years of this very routine. Some might call it superstition; I call it honoring tradition. I glance at it now, its hands ticking steadily toward the hour, and allow myself a moment of reflection.

I close my eyes and visualize the plays, hear the crunch of bodies against the boards, feel the slickness of the ice beneath my blades.

"Wilson, we're up!" Coach's voice slices through my trance. I jerk my head up, opening my eyes. The fluorescent lights of the locker room are harsh, but they're nothing compared to the spotlight out there on the ice.

"Let's go," I reply. While I push to my feet, I roll my shoulders back. I slap the watch face twice, a silent pledge to the man who taught me everything about this game but couldn't be here tonight. Then I tuck it away securely in my locker.

My gloves slide over my hands and are snug against my fingers as I flex them, then make a fist. My helmet goes on next, and the click of the buckle is a signal to my mind: it's go time.

Ready.

The air shifts colder the further down the hall I get towards the ice. I stride down the hallway with my teammates alongside me until we meet Coach just before the ice.

"Yellowjackets on three," Coach says, "One, two, three.”

“Yellowjackets!" we all yell in unison.

The door swings open with a blast of noise and a sea of opposing colors. This is enemy territory. Yet, it’s just background noise, a blur that fades as soon as my blades cut into the fresh ice.

It doesn’t matter that this isn't Kissing Springs. It doesn’t matter whose house we’re in. Because once I’m gliding over that slick surface, it’s just hockey, and I'm exactly where I belong.

"Alright, let's warm up!" Coach shouts as our team starts to stretch. We glide in synchronized motions, each of us feeling the familiar pull of our muscles as we prepare for the battle ahead.

"Hey Ace." Cru glides up next to me. "Think you can keep up with me tonight, old man?"

"Keep up?" I reply, smirking. "You know I'm always one step ahead, young buck."

"Talk is cheap, Wilson!" Cru retorts, laughing as he takes off, skating circles around me.

We wrap up our warmups and line up for the national anthem, standing shoulder to shoulder.

The puck drops and the game begins in a burst of movement. Both teams vie for control with sticks clashing against each other. My head is clear, focused only on the game, on the feel of the puck against my stick, and the positioning of my teammates.

"Ace! Coming your way!" shouts Trip from the other end of the rink. I glance up just in time to see the black disc hurtling toward me. My body reacts instinctively, and my stick connects with the puck, sending it sailing up the ice.

My legs pump as I race after it. I dart past one of the Chargers' defensemen, stealing a quick glance to locate my teammates. There's Cru, positioned and ready, eyes locked on me.

I weave through the defense, the puck dancing between my skates. My mind races, calculating angles, seeing the play unfold before it even happens. There it is. It’s narrow, almost invisible. But it's there.

With a flick of my wrist, I send the puck gliding through the defense, right to Cru. He wastes no time, slamming it into the net with a thud.

"GOAL!" The announcer's voice booms through the arena as our team erupts into cheers. Cru skates over, grinning ear to ear.

"Nice assist, Ace!" he shouts, slapping me on the back. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Now, what were you saying about keeping up?" I retort, making us both laugh.

We are only on the ice for what feels like only another few minutes until the buzzer sounds on the play clock to end the game and claims us as the victors.

The pungent smell of sweat fills the air as we file into the locker room, victorious and exhausted. I peel off my gear, my muscles aching pleasantly from our hard-fought win. Trip and Cru join me at my corner of the room, their faces flushed with adrenaline and excitement.

"Man, that was a hell of a game," Trip says. "You two were on fire out there."

"He set me up for that goal like a pro," Cru adds.

I shrug, but inside, I'm super excited.

"Think we can ride this momentum all the way to the championships?" Trip asks.

"Absolutely," Cru says. "But first, we've gotta take care of business on the road and at home. One game at a time, right?"

"Right," I agree.

Later that night, I collapse onto the hotel bed. My fingers reach for my phone, thinking of the sound of Starla's voice, and I press the green icon to dial her number.

"Hey, you," she answers. "How'd the game go?"

"Couldn't have gone better," I tell her. "We won, and I set up Cru for the winning goal."

"Ah, my hockey hero," she teases, but I still know she’s proud. "I knew you'd crush it. You always do."

"Thanks, Star," I say. "How was your day? Anything exciting happen at the Tigers Den?"

"Exciting might be an overstatement," she chuckles, "but it was a good day. Well, aside from this hangover."

"Ah, yes – girls' night," I remember, letting out a small laugh. "Sounds like it was a success if you're feeling it today."

"Success is one word for it," she says. "Let's just say there were a few too many shots involved. But we had fun."

"Good, I'm glad you had a great time," I say sincerely.

"Thanks, Aaron," she replies. "Now, tell me everything about the game. I want to hear all the details."

"Alright," I say, settling into my hotel bed and closing my eyes, picturing the game in my mind. "So, it was a tight match against the Columbia Chargers. They were putting up a strong defense, but we didn't let that get to us."

"Nice," Starla says encouragingly.

"Trip made some killer saves, and then, in the last period, I saw an opening and passed the puck to Cru. He took the shot, and it went straight past their goalie, right into the net. The whole team went crazy."

"Wow, that sounds incredible! I wish I could've been there to see it," she says.

"Me too. There will be other games, and I know you'll be there for those," I reassure her.

"Definitely," she promises.

The conversation shifts, and we talk about my dad. "You know, it's been a little less stressful these past few days. Dad hasn't mentioned once that I should give up being a paramedic and just focus on hockey."

"Really?" Starla asks, sounding surprised. "That's great, Aaron."

"It is," I admit. "I mean, I love hockey – it's always been a huge part of my life. But being a paramedic is important to me too. It's nice to feel like I'm not constantly disappointing him."

"Hey, you're doing what's right for you, Aaron. Don't let anyone else's expectations define your path."

"I really appreciate that. Thanks,” I reply. “Enough about me. Tell me something else about your day.”

"Oh, actually, something pretty funny happened today," she says, a hint of mischief in her voice. "You know those new remote-controlled vibrators we just got in stock? Well, one of the customers accidentally turned it on while it was still in its packaging."

I chuckle at the image. "Oh no, what happened?"

"Everyone in the store just froze for a second, trying to figure out where the buzzing sound was coming from." Starla laughs. "And then, this shy-looking woman realized she was holding the remote and turned beet red. It was like watching a deer caught in headlights."

"Wow, poor lady," I say, grinning. "Did she end up buying it after all that?"

"Actually, yes!" Starla replies. "She said she figured it was fate that she should take it home since she had already 'broken the ice' with it. I guess some people find humor in the most unexpected places."

"Sounds like your store is really making a positive impact on people's lives," I respond.

"Thank you, Aaron. That means a lot to me. You know, being able to provide a place where people feel comfortable exploring their desires is so important. I'm just glad I can make a difference in my own small way."

This woman is so inspiring.