Page 110 of Holiday Hostilities

Before the game, I managed to avoid the press. I didn’t want them bringing up Olivia and that photo that seems to be everywhere. I figured I’d get out here on the ice, play a hell of a game, and give them something else to talk about.

Make my team, my coach, and her proud.

We might have less than a minute left, but I’m not giving up yet.

The guys on the second line skate towards the boards and I stand, ready to jump back on the ice for my last shift.

Colton, Seb, and I skate into position. Then, time simultaneously speeds up, and slows right down.

Dallas steals the puck from one of Houston’s D-men and snaps it forward to Seb, who skates furiously ahead. He’s fast, fast enough to outskate the Houston guy flanking him, and I hold my breath for a moment—can feel the entire arena hold its breath—as he swings back his stick and takes the shot.

It soars through the air at lightning speed, a beautiful shot, but it misses its target by mere inches, soaring past the net.

The crowd lets out a collective groan, but I barely hear it. Instead, I’m tearing down the ice, stick outstretched, to claim the puck. I get there first, hook it with my stick, and maneuver around another Houston player, my skates biting the ice as I turn.

I’m behind the net, the Dragons’ goalie only a couple of feet away, and adrenaline pumps through my body as I shift my weight, sizing my options.

I can pass it to Jake, who’s wide open. Or, I can pass to Perez, who’s right by the net on the goalie’s weak side, and he’ll have a chance to sneak it in if we catch the goalie off guard.

It takes me a split second to determine that Perez currently has a better chance of scoring, so I neatly send it Colton’s way. He makes contact, and does exactly what I hoped he would do: attempts to edge it in behind the goalie’s right skate.

He’s unsuccessful, and the goalie intercepts the puck and sends it flying down the ice, where it hits a Houston forward’s stick. He skates fast and hard, propelling his body forward effortlessly, dekes out both Dallas and Jake, and then, the moment he has a clear shot on net, lines up and lets it fly.

The puck streaks towards the net, and time stands still as Lars launches himself into a dive.

I can only watch as the puck grazes the edge of his glove… and lands smack in the back of the net, just as the clock runs out.

The Houston guys throw their gloves up in victory, and the entire RGM lets out a groan that I feel in my bones.

Final score: Houston—2, Atlanta—1.

We lose.

It’s our first game back after Christmas. We’re on home ice playing for a packed arena. The woman of my dreams is in the crowd…

And we lose.

Immediately, my mind goes straight to familiar anxious thoughts:You screwed up and made the wrong decision, Aaron. You just lost your team the game.

I try to shake off the thoughts as we file off the ice, lifting my head to see if I can spot a familiar copper-haired figure.

When I locate her, everything else stills. Calms.

She holds up her hands in the shape of a heart.

I believe in you, Aaron.

Her words brush over my skin and I feel them sinking in. Hitting their mark.

My eyes remain on Olivia’s as I hold up my own gloved hands and make a heart in return. The girl with fire in her eyes that fuels my own fire. The girl I once desired, who grew into the only woman I have ever truly wanted. The reason I understand the feeling of being so far gone for someone that there’s no hope nor want of return.

I love Olivia. I don’t know if it’s chemistry or astrology or damn alchemy that dictates that, and frankly, I don’t care. I just know it’sright.

So much so that I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks, or what they might say about me reacting to losing a game we should have won by looking at her and doing this.

I care whatshethinks. I care about her.

Us.

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