Page 62 of They All Puck Me

I nod curtly and take a deep breath. This isn't just about me; it's about the team. But every time I try to focus, Olivia's smile or that heated kiss we shared invades my thoughts.

Noah nudges me as we line up for another drill. "Look, man, let's just get through the game, then we can worry about what later will bring."

"Yeah," I mutter, trying to shake off the distraction.

We start skating again. My legs pump furiously as I weave through cones, but my rhythm is off. My passes are sloppy; my shots lack their usual precision. It's like my body and mind are on different planets.

We're neck and neck, trading goals with our opponents like it's a damn ping pong match. Coach Bergman paces behind the bench, his face set in a scowl that could scare a grizzly.

"Come on!" he shouts, his voice cutting through the din. "Makar, one more screw-up and you're off the first line!"

I give a curt nod, my jaw tight. There's no room for error now.

I try to shake off the coach's words, but they stick like gum on my skate blade. The puck is in play again, and I focus on the opponent's center, who's weaving through our defense like he's got something to prove.

I shadow him, waiting for my moment. When he slips slightly, I dive in and swipe the puck away. My heart pounds as I head towards their goal. I'm near the net when I spot Ethan in a better position.

For a split second, I hesitate. Passing the puck means trusting him—trusting anyone—something I'm not great at off the ice. But this isn't just about me anymore.

"Reynolds!" I yell and send the puck flying his way.

Ethan catches it seamlessly, his eyes locking onto mine for just a moment before he lines up his shot. The crowd holds its breath as he fires—and scores.

The arena explodes with cheers. The series is tied.

I skate over to Ethan, my adrenaline still pumping. "Nice shot," I say, slapping him on the back.

Ethan nods, his usual stoic expression cracking into a small smile. "Good pass."

Noah joins us, grinning from ear to ear. "Hell yeah! That's how we do it!"

As we celebrate on the ice, something clicks in my mind. Trust and teamwork aren't just about hockey—they're about life and love too. Maybe it's time I stop trying to control everything and start letting people in.

Coach Bergman approaches us, his scowl replaced by a rare smile of approval. "That's what I'm talking about!" he says gruffly.

"Thanks, Coach," I reply, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

I sit in the locker room, turning my captain's 'C' patch over in my hands. The room buzzes with post-game chatter, but I'm somewhere else entirely. My fingers trace the stitching, the weight of the patch suddenly feeling like a ton of bricks.

Noah plops down next to me, sweat still dripping from his hair. "You alright, man? You don't look like someone who just scored a spot in the playoffs."

I snort. "I'm just thinking."

"That's dangerous," Noah jokes, nudging me with his elbow.

I can't help but chuckle. "Shut up." I pause, glancing around the room. The guys are celebrating, but there's a tension underlying it all. A tension I've been too blind to see—or maybe just too scared to face.

Ethan walks by, towel slung over his shoulder. He gives me a nod, but there's a guarded look in his eyes. It hits me then—I've been so focused on being strong and unyielding that I've shut everyone out.

I stand up, clearing my throat. "Hey, everyone! Can I get your attention for a minute?"

The room quiets down as the guys turn to look at me, curiosity and confusion on their faces.

"I've been a shitty captain lately," I start, the words feeling foreign but necessary. "I've been so damn scared of showing any weakness that I've forgotten what it means to be part of a team."

Noah's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and Ethan leans against his locker, arms crossed.

"I've let my own fears get in the way—of my relationships with you guys and...other things," I admit, my voice steady even as my heart races. "It's time I stop running from that."

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