Page 107 of Pucking Amazing

That well of emotion rises again in my chest, a swelling of gratitude and affection and the sting of tears. I blink them back, not wanting to get too sappy before a big game. “Thanks, Lee. I really needed to hear that.”

The concern doesn’t leave her eyes, but she nods, giving me one last quick squeeze. “Anytime. Now go get ‘em. I’ll be cheering my head off from the stands!”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” I flash her a smile, genuine if a bit tremulous, then duck back into the locker room to finish getting in the zone.

Her words turn over and over in my mind as I strap on my pads—strong, believe, got this. I cling to them like a lifeline, hoping against hope that she’s right.

The puck whizzes past my head, deflecting off the post behind me with a loud clang. That was a close one. I quickly recover, holding my stick out to deflect the rebound attempt.

Not on my watch, buddy.

I settle back into position, sweat dripping down my face. These guys are relentless tonight, peppering me with shots. But I’m in the zone, laser-focused.

At least I’m trying to be. But as the forwards line up for the faceoff, my mind can’t help but drift to Sydney. The way her voice sounded on that voicemail when she broke things off. The fear and hurt on her face when she found out that Mikey had relapsed, when we were at the basketball game. The desperation with which she took off, ready to make things right with the team.

Snap out of it, Tyler. Head in the game.

The ref drops the puck, and the action starts up again, fast and furious. Their top line comes charging into the zone on an odd-man rush. I track the puck carrier, square to the shot. He dishes a quick pass and I push off hard, extending my pad just in time to deny the one-timer.

They’re knocking on the door but I’m turning them away. C’mon boys, help a goalie out. Let’s get some offensive zone time. As my d-men finally clear the puck out of danger, I can’t resist hazarding a glance up into the stands.

I scan the crowd...nope, no sign of Sydney with the rest of the staff, but the arena is packed tonight, so it’s impossible to know for sure.

I wonder if she’s still coming to games, or if she’s staying away.

A clear thought comes to me that feels so obvious and right that I can’t believe I didn’t reach this sooner: DJ and I need to go get our girl.

As soon as this game is over, I’m going to talk to him about it.

With that in my mind, I’m able to focus back entirely at the game playing out in front of me. The hours pass in a blur.

And at the end, DJ hits an incredible slapshot. The puck rockets off his stick and flies past the other team’s goalie’s outstretched glove to bury itself in the back of the net. The arena erupts in screams and cheers as the final buzzer sounds.

Blizzards win!

After the game, I’m getting worked over by a massage therapist when DJ tracks me down.

“Yo, what’s up?” I ask him quietly once we’re huddled in the corner. “Any word on Syd?”

He shakes his head, frustration written all over his face. “Nah man, nothing. She’s not answering texts or calls. I don’t know what to do.”

I chew my lip and then say, “I’ve been thinking about this, man. What we need is a grand gesture, like in the movies. Y’know, run through an airport, stand outside her window with a boombox, some epic romantic shit.”

A chuckle bursts out of DJ, the first real I’ve heard from him in days.

I know it’s over-the-top, but I think I’m on to something.

“You’re right, we need to do something big to win her back,” DJ muses. “I’m thinking… skywriting? Flash mob? Ooh, what about a puppy dressed as Cupid?”

I snort. “With our luck, it’d probably piss on her shoes.”

We’re both cracking up now, the tension from the game and this whole effed-up situation finally easing a bit. This is what I need right now—DJ, a dash of self-deprecating humor, and the spark of a plan.

“C’mon,” I say, holding my fist out. “Let’s get out of here and figure out our grand gesture. Operation Woo Sydney starts now.”

DJ bumps my fist with his, grinning. “Let’s do this.”

As we head out, tossing increasingly wild ideas back and forth, hope flickers in me for the first time in a while. DJ, Syd and I—we’ve got something special, something worth fighting for. And if a ridiculous, sappy, made-for-the-movies grand gesture is what it takes?

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