Page 104 of Ice Bet

I followed his cue and nodded to Theo.

Time moved in slow motion. Sully slipped to the right when he was supposed to go to the left. Ford zipped past, and there was a hint of confusion there as we caught eyes.Fuck.

“If you fuck this up, you’re dead. Don’t make me clean up another one of your messes,” I seethed under my breath.

Sully’s lips flattened, and my stomach turned.

One of the Crown Point players saw the diversion in our team, and they knew it was a gap they could weasel themselves into.

“Crow!” I yelled to Theo.

His rebuttal of me changing the play lasted only a second before he looked over to Sully, seeing that he wasn't in line with the rest of us.

The problem with adding a new player to a team full of seniors was that the new player was never quite in sync, especially if they were as slithery as Sully. It was a good thing Theo could adapt, though, because when he flew forward, shifting back and forth over the ice, we all followed suit.

The puck zipped over to Ford and then to me, missing the edge of a Crown Point’s stick by a hair. I channeled my anger and focused on what I needed to do for the team, and the puck zipped underneath Whiteshaw’s padded knee, and the buzzer sounded.

Relief sunk onto my shoulders, and I took my first full deep breath since my chat with Sully in the locker room.

I threw my stick to the ground and ripped my helmet off. My team rushed over and crowded me as our fans raved in the background. Theo’s bare hand slapped my shoulder as he brought me in for a hug.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked under his breath.

“That was me getting us a win,” I answered. “I’ll explain later.”

His jaw flickered, but he was happy with the win, just like the rest of the team. No one truly cared how we won, just that we did.

Unless you were Sully.

He acted with fake glee, skating around the rink with his hands raised above his head, egging the crowd on. I scanned the stands, watching them lose it over his encouragement and froze at a distant sight that hit me square in the chest.

“What—”

My parents.

They were beaming with pride. My mom had her cowbell, still painted blue and white—my high school’s colors. Her graying brown hair was pulled into a low bun, but she must have shaken the bell so hard that some thin strands had fallen out.

“Thataboy, Matthews!” my dad’s shout was raspy.

How are they here?

I wasn’t an emotional person by any means. But my vision grew blurry.

“Is that your mom?” Ford asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

I nodded, pulling my attention away from their overjoyed faces. I didn’t understand how or why they were here, but what I did know was that my pride swelled.

“Your mom is hot in person.”

I snapped my neck over so fast that it popped. Ford ducked as I wound my arm back and tried to punch him. His laughter echoed through the hall as we made our way back to the locker room where Coach was elated.

The team was celebrating our last win of the season, even as we descended to the bus. I spotted Coach talking to his wife, and I stopped mid-step.

My parents were huddled close. My dad’s hand was intertwined in my mom’s as she laughed at something Coach’s wife said. I shuffled over the pavement, glancing at the starry sky behind them in the distance.

“Hun.” My mom pulled away from my dad and wrapped me in a hug.

She was small. I towered over her, and my arms could have wrapped around her slender body twice.

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