61. Last Man Standing

Gavin

The plan is simple—win.

But the execution will require a little finesse. Because my friends are knuckleheads.

Figures it's come down to me, but life is funny that way. Sometimes when you wait the longest for something, you're the first to know you want it.

But wanting something doesn't guarantee you'll get it.

I already got my game day nap in, so after I finish a light workout, I find the idiots I'm best friends with in the athletic trainer's room. Kelsey's working Hollis's shoulder, and Diego is stretching Rhys's quads.

"Didn't get enough flow and flex this week?" I drawl.

Rhys flips me the bird but he doesn't bite back. Once they're done, I motion for them to follow me down a quieter hallway.

"What's up?" Hollis asks.

We all got her the tickets together. We sent them to her together. We invited her together. But that's as far as we've gotten. And it's not far enough. "Listen, we need to win tonight, guys."

"News flash: we need to win every night," Hollis retorts with a smirk.

I clap his shoulder. "But tonight we need to play like a team." We've been playing better the last few away games, but we've only won one out of three on the road, and by a hair at that. "We need to work together. I know it's not just the three of us out there, but when it comes to the three of us, we need to keep our heads in the game and our focus on."

Rhys gives me a dubious look. "Are you saying?—?"

"That the woman we're obsessed with is distracting?" I finish for him since I know, I fucking know, that's where he was going.

"Yeah." He squares his shoulders, holding his ground.

I smother a smile as I shake my head. "No. I'm saying we're distracting. We distracted each other. We're up in our heads because we left Lucky Falls for this road trip acting like…well, like we're not totally into her."

There. Someone had to say it.

A smile tips Hollis's lips. "Look at you—last to fall, first to issue a call to arms."

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't the last—" I wave a hand through the air, nixing that denial. "Whatever. It's not important. She knocked some sense into us over the last week in our chats, but we need to knock some sense into ourselves too. It wasn't Briar that distracted us from hockey. It was us not…"

Emotions lodge in my throat, shutting me up for a few seconds. Feels like I'm reaching my fist into my chest, squeezing my heart. But I've gotten better at letting myself feel, thanks to her. And at letting myself say what my heart wants. Before I can tell her though, I need to tell my friends. "It was us not having each other's backs on the ice. Before that week, we looked out for each other when we weren't playing. We did that while we were with her, but then when we left her, we stopped. It was like we all shut down as friends to get over her. To convince ourselves we could be just friends with her. But shutting each other out won't work either. Eating tacos or not eating tacos won't do the trick. It's up to us to play hard." I take a deep, fueling breath, then shrug in admission of this new truth. "And that's all we can do out there on the ice."

Denying my feelings won't make me play better.

Ignoring the ache in my heart won't make me a better teammate.

Eating the same meal every night won't make us win.

Putting my heart and soul into the game—that's what will make the difference. The only difference.

Rhys takes a moment, then nods somberly. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," I say.

"We'll play like a team for us. And because she reminded us that we are," Hollis adds, a nod to our chats with Briar.

I'm glad we've cleared the air somewhat, but that's not all I wanted to say. We need to talk about her. Here. What's next, because I've missed her. I've missed her so damn much I feel hollow without her. Here goes the hard part. "She'll be here tonight. It's a big fucking deal."

"Yeah, because," Hollis says on a rough swallow, "I think…I'm a little in love with her."

Rhys snorts. "Try a lot."

Hollis laughs. "Fucking showoff."

"I was saying you were a lot in love with her," Rhys corrects.

Clearing my throat I cut in, gesturing from Rhys to Hollis and back. "Pot. Kettle."

"Fine. A lot," Hollis adds, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say.

Rhys blows out a breath, then shrugs in admission. "Yeah, me too. I'm in love with her too. A lot."

I don't hide a smile this time. I can't hide it because I never expected this. I absolutely never thought this would happen. But if I've learned anything in my twenty-seven years on Earth, it's that life is what you make it, and you'd better make it everything you want. I offer a fist for knocking. "That makes three of us."

A little later we hit the ice, one by one. I race out first, my gaze swinging immediately to the seats on center ice.

There she is, wearing the cutest white knit cap I've ever seen, her long, blonde hair curling at the ends, and a plain black zip-up hoodie, along with a pink scarf. Too bad we couldn't send her a Golden State Foxes jersey, but her boss would flip if she wore one.

Briar's sitting next to her friends, Trina and Aubrey. We got tickets for them while Ivy works the game as the team's mascot, dressed up in her fox costume.

The three of us skate by Briar during warm-up drills, and she cheers for all of us together and each of us separately.

It's early in the first period and the crowd roars, their energy fueling me. Tension—and that hope for a win—crackles in the air, a palpable current that electrifies me.

Arizona's team is formidable. They're stacked up and down, but I've got something no one else in this rink of twenty thousand has—well except for two other guys.

I want it more.

I want it tonight.

I want it for her.

The puck zips across the ice, a blur of black amidst the swirling chaos of players. I zoom in on it, a rush of adrenaline charging through me as their forwards hoard it, passing it back and forth down the ice, chasing toward Dev in the net, but not on my watch. I'm there too, battling for the puck then…boom, I strip it from the Arizona player, spin away and sprint down the ice, flicking it quickly to Rhys.

In no time, he's flying toward their goal when a pack of D-men swarm him, so he slips the puck easily to Hollis, who sends it screaming into the net.

Just like that, the lamp lights and the crowd goes wild.

I turn to center ice. Briar's cheering us on, her voice echoing through the rink. It's not really echoing. Of course it's not. But I feel like I can hear only her.

When the game ends with a W, we all skate toward her without even planning it, like she's our North Star. She's what guides us. The three of us form a semi-circle in front of the glass where she is. She comes right up to us, glances around, checks to see who's watching, then satisfied it's safe, she unzips her hoodie, giving us—just us—a sneak peek.

Underneath, she was wearing a Foxes jersey after all.

There goes my last shred of resistance. I'm so far gone for this girl.

That's why we needed to win. We have her friendship, and now it's time to earn her heart.