Page 114 of Power Play

Eli’s eyes zero in on my hand on the table. “I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“We aren’t—” I start, but Clay cuts me off.

“I’m going to marry her one day, and when it happens, you’ll know.”

For the first time since Eli walked into this coffee shop, I see a smile forming on his lips. “Okay.” He takes a step forward and hesitates. “Take care of them, Clay.”

With that, he walks to the door and then disappears. A signed adoption consent form is lying on the table.

“Mommy, your phone calls.”

I blink, returning to reality. Maya points to my phone, which is vibrating on the countertop.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say and go pick it up. It must be the delivery Dylan ordered. I better hurry up.

We need to get ready for this party, and I still haven’t chosen a dress.

Chapter 39

Wins and I Do’s

CLAY

Now, June

If someone had toldme when I was signing my contract with the Thunders that all my dreams would come true this year, I probably wouldn’t have believed them. What were the chances that everything going on in my personal life and in my career would be positive? It seemed only logical that something would go awry because what I usually hear is that you can’t have everything. Sacrifices must be made.

That’s what I thought, but it’s definitely not how it all worked out.

I’m finally with the girl of my dreams. And we’re not just dating—last month, she and Maya moved in with me. Living in two houses, with me constantly being on the road and her being busy with preparations for her flower shop opening, some days we didn’t even see each other.

I grew tired of it pretty quickly, and one day I flat out asked her to move in with me. She agreed, making me feel like the happiest man in the world. That’s Layla and Maya’s effect on me, and it never dims. It gets stronger.

But I was worried about how having it all in my personal life would affect my career. It didn’t. It kinda feels like it actually gave my career and the Thunders the boost we all so desperately needed.

We got ourselves into the playoffs. We beat Tampa Bay, moving forward with four wins and two losses. Our next opponent was New York, and we made our fans nervous as hell by losing the first two games but then winning four in a row. The highs and lows of those wins and losses were something else. We had a few guys on the team who literally stopped talking after the wins, only saying something the next day, when they had a chance to calm down.

The games against Boston were the most brutal. Our win changed to our loss; their win changed to their loss. I barely slept the night before our fifth game, which ended in a final score of seven to three in our favor. Should I pretend that I slept better before our sixth game against Boston? I didn’t. We won again, but the score was way more modest—just three to two.

And that’s how we entered the Stanley Cup final against Pittsburgh, with three wins and three losses.

I can picture it all so vividly, concentrating on the game as it unfolds in front of my eyes. It’s the third period of game seven.

Drake gave us a one to zero lead in the third minute of the first period, nine seconds after our first power play of the game expired. He played the puck from behind the net to Colton along the right wall, and Dean slammed a shot from there to the net. Then came a light push from Drake, interfering with the path of the puck by getting his stick out in front, deflecting it down and through Pittsburgh’s goalie’s legs.

Pittsburgh got back on track pretty quickly when their center scored on a breakaway, making it one to one at the fifth minute. After that, both teams spent most of the first period trying to score and playing defense, depending on which team had thepuck. From my point of view, it seemed as if everyone was still finding their game, looking for better chances and trying their best to capitalize on their opportunities.

When the first period ended, the score on the jumbotron was still one to one.

Colt is a great player. He always has been. Watching him carve the ice with his skates when he rushes to the opponent’s net, how skillfully he searches for openings and creates opportunities, is a real pleasure. I’m not surprised he was the one who gave us a two-to-one lead at the eleventh minute of the second period. A low, short-sided shot from inside the right face-off circle ended with the puck landing behind Pittsburgh’s goalie.

No matter how hard both teams worked, we went to the locker room with the score in our favor—two to one.

The third period is fast and hard. Pittsburgh is determined to score again and turn the game around. They play aggressively, trying to instigate several fights. To no one’s surprise, Roman is the one who ends up in a fight with Pittsburgh’s enforcer. One black eye doesn’t stop him, and Roman clears the puck away from the Pittsburgh crease. The puck goes to Dean, who moves it up to Drake.

Drake looks for a pass as he goes through the neutral zone and across the blue line, but eventually, he decides to shoot. With an absolutely perfect snap shot, he squeezes the puck through Pittsburgh’s goalie, making the score three to one.

“So far so good!” I yell to Roman when he skates past me. A smile blooms on his face when he nods at me, our eyes meeting for a brief moment.

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