Page 67 of The Enemy Face Off

The crowd holds its breath as the puck hurtles toward the net.

I drop to my knees in the butterfly position, pads spread wide to cover as much of the goal as possible. My gloved hand extends out for the intercept. There's a deafening thud as the puck makes contact with the glove, but it's not over yet.

The rebound bounces off my glove, and another opposing player swoops in, attempting to capitalize on the loose puck.

I spring to my feet and lunge forward, stick outstretched, to poke the puck away only to be met with a fierce slapshot from yet another opponent.

I dive sideways, stacking my pads to form a wall of protection. The puck deflects off my leg pads, flying high into the air.

I push myself back to my feet.

As the puck descends, it becomes a mad scramble in front of the net with players from both teams battling for control.

I manage to locate the puck amidst the chaos and pounce on it, smothering it under my glove.

The whistle blows, signaling a stoppage in play, and the arena erupts in a deafening roar.

Breathing heavily, I rise to my feet as my teammates converge, burying me in a wall of hugs and backslaps. The euphoria of the successful save washes over me, but my eyes seek out one person and one person only.

Scanning through the sea of jubilant faces, my eyes dart past a blur of banners and waving hands, searching, searching.

And then I spot her.

Well, first I spot Evie, who's hard to miss, leaping up and down with the exuberant energy of the Energizer bunny.

But Beth is right there beside her, dressed in all black with an LA Swift scarf wrapped around her neck, which I'm sure she'll roll her eyes as she tells me later that she only wore it ironically.

She may not be bouncing around like Evie, but she's smiling and she looks happy. And when she sees me staring at her, she does the cutest thing ever.

She waves.

Then she looks around and raises one fist in the air, in what I'm guessing is her attempt at a sports-fan gesture.

It's so awkward.

And so freaking adorable.

She's completely clueless about how to cheer, and something about that releases another wave of adrenaline in my body.

There's still a few minutes left in the game, so I wave back and take my position.

She doesn't leave my mind, though.

I could tell Beth was a strong woman from the moment I met her, but after hearing about her awful experiences with men, my respect for her has only grown.

And I guess understanding her past helps explain some of her initial harshness toward me. After the way she's been treated, I don't blame her for being suspicious of men and quick to think the worst.

I've been on the road with the kids ever since we returned from Fraser and Evie's wedding that wasn't, so my only communication with Beth has been through messaging each other every day.

She's teased me about the photos in myHockey Illustratedstory—admittedly, the hipster outfit chosen by the stylist wasn't my preferred choice for the shoot, but I went along with it to not be difficult—she's texted a thumbs-up emoji after every one of our victories, and she's been sharing stories from the bookstore, recounting all the amusing and funny things customers say and do.

But one of my favorite text exchanges with her?

That would be the one from two nights ago.

Beth:Against all my better judgment and knowing I am going to hate every minute of it, I've decided to tag along with Evie to LA to watch the game.

Milo:You mean, to watch me play.

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