Page 47 of The Perfect Snipe

I just keep skating, not saying a word, too focused on the kids that it has to be obvious I’mtryingto blow him off, but Wyatt’s the one who’ll always push back. Or blatantly disregard passive hints.

“Anyway, what do you think about our wildcard chances?”

And now he’s being downgraded to just a friend. No way a best friend would ask something that sends a jolt of anxiety through me. The wildcard spot. The playoffs. The Cup.

Wendy's last wish.

“Gonna be tight.” I swallow a few times, my mouth having done dry.

I watch Mason execute a perfect pass. My son, growing up so fast. Jake, overcoming his fears. The team, fighting for a playoff spot.

And suddenly, I'm tired. Tired of carrying this weight alone. Tired of keeping everyone at arm's length, pretending like I can handle it all when, in truth, I'm barely holding on.

“My wife’s dying wish was for me to win the Cup.”

Wyatt's head snaps toward me, his eyes wide. “What?”

I take a deep breath, hold it for a second, then let it out.

“Before she died she made me promise I'd win the Cup.” My voice trembles slightly as I finally admit it, the vow that’s been haunting me, driving me, and slowly tearing me apart. It’s the first time I’ve shared it with anyone.

And in the silence that follows, I can feel the enormity of it all crashing down on me, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be.

“Shit . . . that's . . . that's a hell of a thing to carry around.”

I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah. And I've never even made it past the first round. Now retirement's not that far off, and I just . . . I can't let her down.”

Wyatt's quiet for a long moment, then he puts a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “You're not letting anyone down. And you're not in this alone. We're a team, remember?”

My chest tightens, a lump forming in my throat—for a different reason this time. I bump my friend’s shoulder with mine. “Swear, Virgin, if you make me shed a tear, I will have Lund beat the shit out of you.”

“And I’ll tell Nora you had my pretty face ruined for our wedding all because I was the bestest of friends and you got emotional and cried.” He turns to face me, skating backwards. “You think any of our teammates want to deal with an enraged bride?”

I palm his face and push him to the side, laughing as we skate toward Coach Bob, who blows the whistle and calls the kids over. After reviewing what they learned and reminding them about their upcoming games this weekend, the kids are dismissed.

As I help gather the pucks and cones on the ice, I spot Cat walking in. She waves, and I manage a curt smile and wave back. Once everything is packed away, Wyatt goes to check on Jake in the locker room, and I skate to Cat.

Wyatt had a point about no one knowing me, and that there’s a lot of pressure on all of us, not just me. A good leader would find a way to ease the burden, not just stand by the way I’ve been doing.

“Hey, Cat?” I say, interrupting Mason's play-by-play of his best shot. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

She looks up, curiosity glittering in her eyes. “Sure. What's up?”

I take a few deep breaths, in and out. Is this what she felt like coming to me about Rosa? “I want to put together a team-building event for the Minotaurs. Something to help us relax, bond a bit. Could use your help if you have time?”

Cat tilts her head, a slight smirk on her lips as she leans forward. “Wasn’t so easy to ask, was it?”

I straighten, grasping my stick tighter. “Cat—”

She lightly slaps my shoulder, laughing and shaking her head. “Ease up, big guy. Of course, I’ll help.”

“Dare I ask what’s so funny?”

“The idea of you being in charge of something like that. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you all ended up at McDonalds for a team dinner.”

I huff and cross my arms in front of my chest. “You mistake me for Wyatt. And you know he’d pick the one with the playground that they’d all be playing in.”

“Forgot you’re all nothing but a bunch of oversized children.”

---