Page 1 of Mistletoe Face Off

Chapter One

Harrison

The roar of the home crowd is so loud it’s practically deafening, but it’s drowned out by the pounding of my own heart and the deep breaths of air I’m gulping in. Almost twenty thousand fans are on their feet, demanding victory from us, and the clock is ticking down.

This is it. Showtime.

The capital “C” on Captain Dan Roberts’s jersey gleams under the arena lights as he takes the face-off in this, the final period of our latest game, a grudge match against our nemesis, the Denver Thunderwolves. I can see the focus in Dan’s eyes, like a lion eyeing its prey. Focused. Driven. Determined.

Dan is at the top of his game, leading our team, the Chicago Blizzard, in a blistering season that seems like it could send us right to the Cup. He’s retiring at the end of it, and Coach Newton says I'm on the short list for his replacement.

I'm determined to make that happen. Tonight is just another game for me to prove I’m worthy of that “C.”

Being captain of the Blizzard would be the icing on the cake for a guy like me, coming from a less than perfect past, and overcoming it all to make it to the NHL.

That's the dream, people. And I’m not going to let anything get in my way.

The puck drops, and Dan is on it like a flash, sending it straight back to me. I quickly pivot, scanning the ice. Our forwards are already in motion, cutting through the Thunderwolves’ defense like butter. I tap the puck up to Fletcher Steele on the wing, and he’s off, skating hard and fast, nudging the puck with his famous steely control—pun intended. The guy’s not known as “The Steel” for nothing.

The Thunderwolves’ defense tries to close in, but Fletcher’s got this. He might be what the press loves to label “Wild Fletch” thanks to his bad boy reputation on the team, but he sure is a safe pair of hands on the ice—and that’s all that matters in a tight game like tonight’s.

Fletcher pulls a slick deke, one of his signature moves, sliding the puck over to winger Chase Robinson, and before the Thunderwolves’ goalie even knows what’s hit him, Chase slots the biscuit right past him as the goalie leaps in the wrong direction, legs and stick splaying.

It’s a goal, putting us in a 4-3 lead.

With victory in their sights, the crowd goes crazy as I skate over to the guys, a huge grin on my face. With only a minute and seven seconds left on the clock, that goal could have this game sewn up in our favor.

The captain’s the first to give Chase a rough pat on the helmet, shouting, “Nice shot!” over the noise of the crowd.

“Thanks, Cap’ain Dan,” he replies, using theForrest Gump-inspired nickname we often throw Roberts’s way.

I’m not sure he loves it.

But you know what? Everyone on the team respects the guy—even Lorcan Stanbridge, a guy who rubs me up the wrong way at every turn, for more reasons than he wants the captaincy, too. Dan’s led us through some tough games. Him retiring at the end of the season may present an opportunity for me, but in his short tenure as captain, he’s helped make the Blizzard one of the strongest forces on the league, and the team won’t be the same without him.

We join Dan, our gloved hands making a series ofthunksas we slap Chase on the back to congratulate him on his goal. He grins at us, lapping up the attention and waving at the crowd, just as he always does. I tell you, that guy is an attention junkie, but I don’t condemn him for it. We’ve each got our strengths, and our reasons why we play the game.

We may be total brutes on the ice—this is ice hockey, not lawn bowls, after all—but we're a pretty tight-knit team.

Well, mostly.

The energy’s high now, and I can feel the shift in attitude as we return to our starting positions. We’re in control now. The Thunderwolves are rattled, even though I know they’ll come back strong. Teams often do after a goal against them. Right now, it’s our time to drive it home, for us, and for all our fans who have come out to the barn in force tonight, wearing ourjerseys, jumping out of their seats with each twist and turn of the plays.

I glance over at the bench, catching Coach Newton’s eye. He gives me a nod, and I know what’s coming next. It’s time to lock this game down and show him my leadership potential once more. It’s my time to prove to him and to everyone that I'm more than just the guy with the wicked slapshot and strong defense.

We line up for the face off, and as the biscuit drops, I spot the Thunderwolves’ star winger, Phil Channing, winding up for a rush. He may be fast, but I’ve already read his next move, and I’m ready for him. Skating backward, I keep up with him, allowing just enough space between us. As he tries to cut inside, I slide in, my shoulder connecting with his, throwing him off course. There’s no penalty, but any player will tell you it's a fine line when you're out on the ice. And besides, hockey is physical, and all the players know it. Channing throws some expletives my way, but I ignore him.

The puck flies loose and Dan is there to scoop it up, driving it forward. I hear the crowd cheer, and I glance at Coach once more. He catches my eye, giving me that subtle nod again. I’ve done my job, and Dan knows it, too. Leadership’s not just about the flashy plays. It’s about making the right plays, and I just made one that counts.

It feels like the captaincy is within my grasp.

The final buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game, and we celebrate our victory on the ice with back slaps and air punches while the crowd in the bleachers scream and cheer for us, reveling in our victory.

Gusty the Snow Monster, our mascot, a big, fluffy, yeti-like creature with icy blue fur in a Blizzard jersey, keeps the crowd excitement going as we do a victory lap around the ice, waving at the fans and pumping the air, exhilarated.

I love it when a game goes our way, particularly against the Thunderwolves.

After we've acknowledged the fans, done the post-game video our social media manager insists we do, we hit the changing room, amped up by our win.

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