Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

Van

"Are you looking for your sisters or your wife?" Alec asks, practically shoving me through the tunnel after the second period.

Guess it hasn't escaped his notice how my head has been on a swivel, constantly checking the empty seats. Alec's voice is strained, but I can tell he's trying to be understanding. Trying to do something other than tear my head off.

Might be an improvement to my game.

"They're supposed to be here," I mutter. Meaning my sisters.

Not Amelia.

I told myself not to hope she'd come. Even if I carry a secret hope she does.

It's hard to keep even the smallest flicker of hope alive when you lay it all on the line like an idiot and get basically no response.

But with my sisters MIA, I'm starting to grow concerned. Did something happen to them? To Amelia? They wouldn't come all the way to Harvest Hollow only to not be here for the first playoff game.

Maybe leaving the four of them in the house alone was a bad idea.

"If something was wrong, Parker would tell you."

I know Alec's right. Parker knows everything, and she'd find a way to tell me if there were a serious issue.

"I'm sure they'll show up soon," Alec says through clenched teeth as we push into the locker room. "But until then—how about you be here. Because it's obvious you're not."

It's obvious to Coach too, who plays bad cop to Alec's good cop, leaving little flesh on my bones after his scathing review of my performance so far.

Not usually a yeller, tonight he makes an exception. I'm pretty sure I saw his tonsils, and I definitely learned a phrase or two I'd never heard. I think he invented them.

Oh, and I'm also sure a lot of his rage, directed mostly at me though we're all playing like a peewee team, stems from personal reasons.

So, I just sit with my head down and take it. Deserved on all counts.

Yeah, yeah—Van sucks.

Yeah, yeah—I shouldn't have married your daughter when I know you can't stand me.

Once he's done tearing me apart, Coach turns on the team. I can't help but feel like it's my fault. Sure, we're all playing like trash, but we've had bad periods before. Bad games. Coach always has a way of bringing us back out of our slump in the intermissions.

Today, though, he's just unloading.

When he finally stomps out of the locker room, red-faced and muttering under his breath, the room is silent for about three seconds. This is by far the worst we've played all season, collectively. Missed passes, missed shots, penalties. It's definitely possible to turn a series around, but it's hard to come back mentally from a game like this.

Thankfully, Felix doesn't seem to have off nights, and our goaltender is the only reason we're down three nothing and not losing by more. But he doesn't look happy about it.

Alec finally stands, looking slowly around the room, intentionally meeting every eye. He holds my gaze a beat longer. Then winks before he speaks to the whole team.

"What are we?" he asks. Quietly. But firmly and with a barely contained intensity. It's the kind of voice that makes you sit up and pay attention.

"Family," Logan says. He stands too.

"And how do we play?" Alec asks, just as quietly. With just as much restrained intensity.

"Together." Dominik is the one who answers him this time.

It's such a shock Dumbo actually chokes and Tucker has to smack him on the back.

Dominik meets my gaze, but I can't read his expression. He stands too.

"Together," Alec repeats, glancing from player to player again. "Family. That's more than how we play. It's who we are ."

One by one, the rest of the team gets to their feet. Standing in solidarity. Except me. I'm still worried about my sisters and wondering if all of this is my fault. Like playing poorly is a virus, and they all caught it from me.

Stupid, but it's hard not to shoulder some of the blame. If for nothing else, then for Coach's mood.

"We're Appies," Alec continues. "Off the ice. On the ice. Together. Family. We play for more than wins, more than trophies. We play for family . Not just the people in the stands supporting us. For each other. Every man in this room is your family. And what does that make this place?"

"Home." I stand, emotion swelling in my chest.

I'm still worried about my sisters. Disappointed Amelia's not here. Bothered by Coach's blatant disapproval. Embarrassed that I put my heart on the line for Amelia only to get no response in return. Frustrated by how I've been playing—not just tonight, but honestly, for months.

The tangle of negative emotions is still there, but something greater is shoving them all down. A sense of urgency. The connection between us all. The knowledge that this is bigger than all of us individually.

It's time to stop wallowing in it. Feeling sorry for myself. Feeling like a mistake, a disappointment. I'm part of a team. A family. We're the Appies. And we aren't going to go down like this in our own house.

"That's more like it." Alec nods and shows off what we all call his Disney prince smile. Blinding. White. Perfect.

I'm pretty sure they're veneers.

Anyway.

"So, I ask you—are we going to let another team come in and take this game from us?" Alec asks, arching a brow. "Or are we going to show them what a real family looks like?"

The roar in the room is deafening, and as we head out and back through the tunnel onto the ice, I force myself not to look up in the stands.

Whether my sisters are there, whether Amelia comes with them—it can matter to me later. But right now, my focus needs to be right here—with this family.

Alec's team reset pays off.

We're monsters the next period. From the puck drop, it's like we sent out a different team.

Or, maybe, we're finally just skating like the team we are . Not the ones we played like the first two thirds of the game.

Nathan and Alec are absolutely brutal on defense, and the Badgers can do little more than dump and chase, getting repeated icing calls and getting nowhere near Felix. He's practically taking a nap.

Eli, who I'm pretty sure hasn't stopped smiling this entire period, scores twice in the first four minutes. I slot the puck to Logan not a minute later, who ties it up with a third. Dominik pushes us into the lead on a beautiful breakaway during his next shift.

The kid came into this period like a whole different person—and I don't just mean his playing. It's the first time his skills have been on par with his normally cocky attitude. But the attitude is gone, and he's actually playing with us—a first. Hopefully a permanent shift.

We play hard but clean. The Badgers are gassed, getting sloppy and dirty as we near the end of the period and end of the game.

When one of their D-men takes a swing at Wyatt, I think we're about to see things get ugly. Wyatt isn't the kind of guy you mess with. The blow glances off his cheek, and Wyatt barely flinches. He also doesn't remove his gloves, which results in another power play for us and a score from Camden to leave us up by two.

The crowd is absolutely losing its mind, but I still refuse to look. I don't look during my shifts. Not while I'm on the bench.

I'm afraid if I see empty seats again, I'll lose momentum.

But after a line change, Logan nudges me on the bench. His glove is off and he's wiping the inside of his visor, which is fogging up. "Look," he says, tilting his chin toward the stands.

I don't want to. I've been so good. So focused. Even if curiosity is a hot burn in my chest.

Shaking my head, I take a drink, keeping my eyes on the ice. "That's okay. I'm good."

"No," Logan insists, nudging me a little harder. " Look ."

I do, my eyes immediately going to the seats that remained empty through the first two periods.

They're no longer empty.

I'm grinning like a fool as my gaze bounces from one sister to the next to the next. It's hard to tell the three of them apart when their faces are fully covered in paint and?—

Wait.

Not three. There are four faces painted in turquoise and white. Four practically feral women decked out in Appies gear just behind the glass.

Amelia .

She came with my sisters—and she's screaming for me, pounding her fists on the glass, looking every bit as feral as they do.

And she's wearing an Appies jersey. Backwards, for some reason.

When our eyes connect, her grin spreads. Most of her face is blue, with white painted around her eyes like a bandit's mask and my number in white on one cheek. A heart is on the other.

Then she points the the jersey, gesturing wildly until I realize—she's wearing it backwards so my name is plain to see, right across her chest.

My throat gets tight, and I lift my glove. She waves back like a maniac, and one of my sisters shoves her—Grey, I think?—and then all four of them are screaming again as Nathan slams someone to the boards right in front of them.

"Nothing like a little motivation, yeah?" Eli says, slapping me on the back. "Let's go."

It's more than motivation. It's … everything .

Every significant person in my life is in this building, and the thought makes warmth spread through me. More than a need to win the game, I'm fueled by the need to finish the game, get out of the locker room, and to find Mills.

The fact that she's here, wearing my name, my number, screaming for me just like I said last night—it makes the tiny flicker of hope roar into something larger.

I practically throw myself over the wall as our line heads back out. The Badgers have found a second wind, which is dangerous. Even with only five minutes left.

A two-point lead isn't enough. I'm sure Felix would love to hold them scoreless in this final period after our defense let him down.

And now that I know who's watching, I want a goal of my own. I want my moment. For my sisters. For Mills.

I've played well—maybe the best period I've had this season, aside from actually sending a puck into the net myself. Time to change that.

Eli sends it my way as we cross the blue line. I have a shot, but it's not a sure thing and I've got guys on me. But no one seems to notice Logan hanging quietly just outside the crease.

I have less than a second to debate taking the risky shot or going for the sure thing.

Slicing right, I line it up, but then at the last second send it behind the defensemen and straight to Logan. He tips it in.

The horn blares and the noise in the Summit is deafening. Logan skates straight to me, ramming into me with a hug that would have taken me off my skates had Eli not sandwiched me in from behind.

"Aw, Vanity gave up his glory for the good of the team," Eli says. "Mama's little boy is growing up."

"Shut up," I say through my smile.

"Nice one," Logan says. "The assist. Not whatever Eli said."

" Very nice," Alec says, joining the group hug. "But the game's not over yet. Think we can do it again?"

We don't.

But it doesn't matter because neither do they. Which means we win by three with six unanswered points in the third period.

The Summit goes wild. The horn goes on forever. Fans practically shake the stadium, pounding on the glass and stomping their feet. Our bench empties onto the ice in a big messy celebration.

But my gaze goes over the mass of bodies and finds Amelia.

She and my sisters are jumping up and down, hugging and screaming, but she stops when she sees me and steps forward, forehead and palms pressed to the glass.

Without a word to the guys, I sprint across the ice, never breaking her gaze.

There's no way we can hear each other over the sheer volume in the Summit, but I line my hands up with hers and drop my forehead to the inch of plexiglass separating us.

This is easier than words.

Though right now, I crave her words. I want the reassurance. I need to know if this means what I think it means—her here, face painted, my name across her chest.

But I can't wait for that.

I love you, I mouth. I love you, Mills.

She nods emphatically, her eyes brimming.

I love you too, Robbie, she mouths back.

Something about seeing her lips form my name, my real name, shifts something inside me. I want to break through this plexiglass with my fists. I want to rip it away and?—

"Van!"

My Hulk fantasy is interrupted by Alec summoning me back to do all the post-game stuff. I drop my hands and start skating slowly backwards. I'm vaguely aware of my sisters next to Amelia, but I can't take my eyes off her.

I'm so sorry , she's saying.

Pointing toward the tunnel, I mouth, Later? Hoping she'll find me, that Parker will help her get to me.

I need to see her without this between us. I need her in my arms. I need to hear the words, to feel her mouth on mine.

"Van!"

This time it's Coach bellowing my name, his narrowed gaze bouncing between me and his daughter. I'm surprised he even recognizes her with the face paint. But he clearly does. And despite the win, he's not happy.

Amelia's eyes narrow, and I nod, hoping she understands. I got this.

Hoping that I do, in fact, got this. I mean, Coach can't punch me again … right?