Page 47 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Elliot’s touch is both gentle and demanding as if he wants to savor every moment, yet he can’t get enough. Hours pass in a blur of heat. Eventually, exhaustion claims us. I fall asleep with Elliot’s arm draped protectively over me and his leg pinning me to him. But even in the face of sleep threatening to take hold, I can feel the weight of the upcoming game looming over us.

I wake up to the sound of Elliot moving around the room. I watch him dress in the early morning light, his focus already on this afternoon’s game. He glances over at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Go back to sleep,” he says softly. “I’ll see you at the rink.”

“Good luck,” I whisper, my voice thick with sleep. “I know you’ll do great.”

He nods, his eyes moving over my body one last time before leaving the room. I stay in bed as long as I can, savoring his touch leftover from our night, letting it linger on my skin. Eventually, I get up and prepare for the day. I have a game to cover, and I need to be at my best.

The day passes in a whirlwind of filming and pregame interviews. The rink is alive as the fans start to file in. I can hear the faint buzz of activities beyond the walls of the locker room hallway I currently stand in. Before me is the towering captain of the Pittsburgh Predators. His confidence practically oozes all over me, almost in a challenge. The microphone in my hand feels heavier as he leans in, his eyes sharp and focused.

"We're not just here to compete; we're here to win," he asserts firmly. "The Red Wolves have had a good run, but we're going to keep them out of the playoffs."

His words hang heavy between us. I swallow quickly, managing to keep my composure, nodding professionally as I ask, "What strategies do you plan to implement to ensure that victory?"

His smirk is telling, filled with secrets he isn't planning on sharing with me. Inside, my stress levels spike, knowing the weight of his claims and the downfall it could bring to the Red Wolves. This interview is more than just pregame talk for the Pittsburgh captain, it is a declaration of war.

As the game begins, I find my spot in the press box, my heart pounding in my chest. I watch Elliot closely, his focus unwavering, his movements precise. He is ready. Every save he makes, every move the team executes, feels personal. Doing what I know I do best, I support him silently. Cheering himon from afar. The game is intense, with both teams fighting tooth and nail for the win. The clock ticks down, the pressure mounting with each passing second.

This journey is as much about me discovering my passion for the sport as it is about supporting the man who has unknowingly become the center of my world. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I keep that to myself. When the final buzzer sounds, the stadium erupts in cheers.

Chapter 36

The energy in the locker room is electric. We did it—we clinched our spot in the playoffs. The sense of relief is heavy, and exhilaration leads the way as celebrations get underway. Guys are laughing, clapping each other on the back, and giving anyone within arm’s reach a back-breaking bearhug. This moment is the culmination of months of hard work, sacrifice, and unwavering determination. Sure, it is just the first step in the battle for the Cup but I know damn well each and every one of us are going to make the most out of it.

My teammates fought tooth and nail for this. For the very first time, most of us on the team can show the world what we are capable of. I have been to the playoffs before during my time with the Montreal Saints, but have never made it all the way. It is the ultimate goal and one that I will accomplish in my career. Now that the playoff spot is ours, we have to stay sharp. Be ready to take on whatever comes next. And right now, that is partying.

I skate away from the crowd, finally free of the celebrations. Once I get off the ice, my mind is buzzing with adrenaline from the game, but my first priority is to check my phone. Throughout the onslaught of congratulations, I search for one name in the flood of notifications. There it is, her message standing out like a beacon.

Ziggy:You did it.

Congratulations!

A smile tugs at my lips as I quickly type out a reply.

:We did it.

Couldn’t have done it

without you.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes again.

Ziggy:Don’t diminish it…

you played great tonight!

:Thanks. Your

support means way more

than you know

There is a pause before her next message comes through.

Ziggy:I’m proud of you,

Elliot. This is huge.

---