Page 24 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

I go through my pregame routine with a newfound determination. Every stretch and every warm-up drill is completed with an intensity that borders on obsessive. I have to channel all this frustration, all this pent-up energy, into the game. Ziggy agreed to give it another shot, and that has to be enough to get me through tonight. It has to be enough for the game to go perfectly.

As we hit the ice, the roar of the crowd fills the arena, and a wave of sound reverberates through my bones. This is it. Another chance to prove myself, to shake off the doubts and distractions plaguing me. I focus on the puck, on the players, on the game plan that Coach drilled into us. The first period flies by in a blur of action and adrenaline. Every save and every play is executed with precision. We are playing well, but I know we have to keep pushing. The pressure is on, and I can feel the weightof expectations—my own and everyone else’s—bearing down on me.

By the second period, I can feel my internal conflict easing, my confidence growing with every passing second. We are ahead, and I am making saves left and right, each one reinforcing the belief that I am back on top of my game. It feels good—no, it feels incredible. For the first time in weeks, I'm back in the zone, completely immersed in the rhythm of the game. The crowd’s energy amps my own, propelling me to perform at my best. Ziggy’s words echo in my mind, a constant reminder to stay focused and push myself harder. She might hate me, but she has some sort of effect on me in the most infuriating way, and that is all the motivation I need. I won't let anyone down. This is my redemption, my chance to show everyone, including her, that I can rise above the chaos and reclaim my place as the best.

Chapter 21

Watching Elliot win leaves me feeling conflicted. I'm relieved from seeing him perform like the goalie everyone knows he can be. But I'm frustrated by the fact that he is now holding me second-hand accountable for maintaining his success. Sure, I agreed to hang out with him one more time, but I’m not going to be the person to make the first move.

My team and I finally wrap up the postgame interviews. I’m finally free to head back to my hotel when my phone buzzes. Elliot’s phone number lights up the screen. Just opening the text makes my heart race.

:7012 E Jackrabbit Rd.,

Scottsdale, AZ 85253.

I’m leaving the rink now. Meet me

in an hour.

:Unless you

want to make it even

easier and just ride

with me?

Ziggy:Wow, straight to the

point. No hello?

:Hello! You want a

ride? I’m waiting.

Ziggy:Very funny. I’m not

riding to your house

with you. Why would

I give you any extra

opportunity to kill

me and get rid of

my body?

:Jesus, Ziggy.

That is dark.

Ziggy:What’s your plan

for tonight?

:Do I really need

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