Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Nolan

I t's the third period and I've stopped everything they've thrown at me. I'm a brick fucking wall.

Nikolai grabs the puck off Harris, pushes him onto his ass, and comes at me.

I'm in the flow state. I'm dialed in. I'm in the fucking zone.

Their whole team can come on the ice and they won't slip one past me.

I'm unstoppable with Grace in my corner. Knowing she's watching me is all I need.

Sebastian and Austin both try to catch up to Nikolai, but he's got a beat on them and he's a fast fucker.

It's one on one. Me against him.

The crowd jumps to their feet. You can hear a pin drop. Just the scratching sound of blades on fresh ice as he comes.

Sebastian was right. He's over-handling the puck, which means he's going for the top corner. I crouch down, ready.

He dekes left and then lets it rip top right .

I snag it easily.

The crowd sits back down with a collective grumble as I hold the puck in my glove. The ref blows his whistle. The play is over.

My eyes dart over to my girl. She's the only one standing, cheering her beautiful head off.

I can't help but smile.

It feels nice to be in love.

I'm required to give the press ten minutes of my time after the game. I want it over with fast, so I sit down at the table in the room set up for press conferences as quickly as I can. I haven't even showered yet. I still have my damn skates on and all of my pads from the waist down.

I'm in my sweaty white t-shirt with my wavy hair slicked back as the sports reporters fight to ask me the first question. It seems like every reporter in sports media is here for the beginning of the playoffs. The large room is packed.

"That was an amazing performance," the guy in the front row with the green sweater says. "A career game for you. Forty-two saves against a stellar team, including Nikolai Kuznetsov who you shut out. Zero goals let in. What was on your mind going into the playoffs?"

I take a deep breath as Grace's beautiful smile pops into my head. She was on my mind. But I'm not about to share that with these vultures. She's all mine for now.

"I wanted to perform well for my team and my city," I say, spitting out a generic answer.

"How does a performance like this impact your confidence moving forward?" another reporter asks.

I give more generic answers, barely even listening to myself until the back door opens and she walks in.

My heart stops when I see her in my jersey with a press pass around her neck. She's even more spectacular than I remembered.

"Nolan…" the reporter says, urging me to finish.

My mind is blank as I stare at her in awe. "What was the question again?"

He repeats it, but Grace and I are smiling at one another and I miss it again.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a paper. I watch as she scribbles something on it and then holds it up.

Room Number?

"I'll give you a prediction of how many goals I'll save over the playoffs," I tell the room, ignoring his question completely. "Thirty-three zero six."

Grace grins as she writes my hotel room number down. Everyone else is confused.

"Three thousand, three hundred and six goals?" a reporter asks. "That doesn't make sense. Is that over your career? Please clarify."

"My time is up," I say as I burst out of my seat. They all shoot questions at my back as I hurry into the locker room to get these damn skates off.

I need to get back to my hotel room asap.