Page 98 of Power Play

“You don’t want a wedding?” I ask, retreating from my inner turmoil. “You love being the center of attention.”

“I love her. And I want to marry her. Tonight. I don’t give a fuck about a wedding, and neither does she.”

My eyes well with tears and I brush them away. “I’m so happy for you two. Thank you for loving my best friend the way she deserves.”

“Ten seconds,” Bernie says, and I fan my face.

“Pull it together, P,” Maverick teases, ruffling my hair. “We have to show a little bit of professionalism.”

I laugh when we go live, holding up my microphone. “Thank you so much, Bradley. I’m here with Maverick Miller after a thrilling win in regulation against the Las Vegas Lightning that showed Liam Sullivan setting the NHL’s record for most saves in game. Mav, what kind of growth is the team going through right now, and how is that growth helping the team long-term?”

“We’re hungry. Obviously we all wanted to win The Cup last year and came up short. That loss might have been the best thing to happen to us, though. We’ve had to grow up. We’ve had to stop taking defeats so personally and figure out how we can get better because of them. This isn’t the same team as last season, and if we can keep that kind of momentum going, I think we’ll be sitting real pretty come June.”

“We can’t talk about tonight without mentioning Liam’s performance. You two have played together for years now. What was it like watching him snag that seventy-first save?”

“God.” Maverick runs his hand through his damp hair and grins. “Sully’s a beast. He’s who I want defending my goal when the game is on the line. He just puts his heart in it, man. Doesn’t gloat. Doesn’t make it about him. He’s a good fu—freaking guy, and to be able to witness him make history is pretty incredible.”

“Last thing, Maverick. You’re heading into the new year with the best record in the East and the second-best record in the league. What kind of confidence does that give you with a four-game road trip coming up at the start of January?”

“Job’s not finished,” he says. “Records don’t mean anything in right now. We’re feeling good about the chemistry we have with each other, but until we’re lifting the Cup over our heads, we’ve got work to do.”

“Thanks, Mav. Enjoy your night,” I say, and Bernie cuts the camera. “You know I hate asking questions like that, but it’s what the fans want to hear.”

“That’s okay, Little P. Your questions are some of my favorites.” He pulls his jersey over his head and hands it to me. “You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good.” He grins and heads for the locker room. “Gotta get cleaned up before I see my girl. Catch you on the bus!”

I wave and start grabbing all the gear the guys dropped. Gloves and jerseys get added to my pile, as well as Grant’s helmet. It weighs me down, and I know I’m about to make some kids very happy.

“This is my favorite part of the night,” Lexi says, taking some of the load from me. “One of these days we need to make the guys come back out and sign everything when they finish their debrief with Coach. I could do without the stench, though.”

“Maverick and Hudson sign stuff from time to time. They sneak out and when they get on the bus, they claim they were using the bathroom.” I spot a boy waiting against the railings. He’s leaning into the tunnel, his hand outstretched and a hopeful look on his face. I walk up to him and put a pair of gloves in his palm. “There you go, buddy.”

“Thank you.” His eyes widen. “I love the Stars. I want to be a goalie like Sully when I grow up.”

“I bet you’d be very good at it. Do you live in Las Vegas?”

“No. Maryland. My mom is here for work and brought me with her. I saw the Stars were playing and I begged to come. We always go to games in DC.”

“We do a kids’ camp in the summer, and Liam will be there. You should sign up.” I struggle to reach in my pocket and pull out one of my business cards. “Give this to your mom and tell her to email me if she has any questions, okay?”

“Okay.” The boy nods and I think he might be about to cry. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome so much.”

I move closer to the ice and spot a little girl wearing a pink Stars jersey. I recognize it as Emmy’s from when she was on the team, a special edition the people in merchandise did for Valentine’s Day, and I beeline to her.

“Hi,” I say, squatting down so I’m eye level with her. “What’s your name?”

The woman next to her lifts the girl in her arms and strokes her hair. “You’ll have to speak slowly so she can read your lips. She’s Deaf.”

“Oh.” I stand and drop the gear so my hands are free. “Hi,” I sign. “What’s your name?”

The girl looks at her mom who smiles and nods. She slowly uses her hands and spells, “Lucy.”

“Hi, Lucy.” I wave. “My name is Piper. Do you like hockey?”

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