Page 99 of Playing to Win

It happened so fast. Two minutes in, a breakaway on Petey. He stopped the shot, but JJ, coming to get the rebound, tripped and fell into the net. On top of Petrov.

The game was delayed while the trainers went out to check on them. JJ was bleeding from a gash on his cheek. Petey stood up slowly, but one foot was off the ice. The trainers checked his knee.

Fuck. Was this like what happened to Jayna? Was Petey out? For good?

The time it took for Petey to come off the ice went in slow motion, the applause of the crowd muted in the background. Then time fast-forwarded as Coach tapped me to go in. I had just a few minutes to warm up. I ran my glove over the bars and scraped my stick over the goal line. My water bottle was on the net, but I wouldn’t risk putting anything in my stomach. My nerves were so wound up I was almost puking as it was.

We lined up for the face-off. The puck dropped, and someone took it down to the Minnesota net. I relaxed my pose but stayed prepared. I tried to focus my mind on nothing but the movement of the players in the other end, while checking to see if Coach thought I should come out of the net to get an extra skater on.

Then suddenly the crowd was roaring, and two Minnesota forwards rushed toward me. I should have known who they were and what to expect but everything was going too fast.

Cooper was skating flat-out behind them, but he wasn’t going to make it. This was all on me.

I watched them, and the guy on the right raised his stick—then, fuck it all, I dropped too soon. The puck lifted over my shoulder, my blocker not fast enough, and the red light lit up.

Time slowed again. Minnesota gathered by the net to celebrate, while I dragged myself to the bench. Cooper tapped my helmet, as did the other guys, but I knew. I’d blown it. Biggest save of my life, and I’d gone back to my worst habit.

Once they’d cleared the ice enough for the handshake line, we were able to leave the ecstatic Minnesota team to enjoy the Cup while we trudged back to the locker room. Cooper said something about it being a team loss, but I couldn’t look anyone in that room in the eye.

Coach came in. The room was already quiet, but he waited to speak.

“You’re feeling like shit right now. And you should. Losing sucks. But don’t avoid it. Don’t drown it out with alcohol. Feel that. Use it. Next year, it will fuel you. Because I never want to fucking go through that again, and you shouldn’t either.”

I would be lucky to get another chance to play at this level. I wouldn’t be here next year, or the year after. I texted my parents.

Sorry, I don’t want to see anyone right now. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Tell Jayna.

I especially didn’t want to talk to Jayna. She’d succeeded on every level, while I’d failed in my first major test. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Too much drama, too much nonessential stuff in my life. Something had to change. Tonight, I didn’t care what Coach said. I was going to embrace alcohol and any oblivion I could find. But not at a bar—I’d learned that lesson. I was going home.

Too many hours and too many drinks later, I’d figured out what I needed to do. I couldn’t handle a relationship with all the drama and still focus the way I needed to on hockey. My parents needed my support, and I had my project. Something had to give. I sent Jayna a message with unfocused fingers.

Fix veal op mpp.

Chapter30

It’s the way I feel about you

Jayna

I metBraydon’s parents for breakfast at their hotel. I’d read a confusing text from Braydon when I woke up and needed to talk to him. I had strong doubts about seeing him at this breakfast. Pretty sure he’d been beyond wasted when he texted me at four a.m.

The Mitchells had already been seated at a table when I arrived. They were watching the entrance, and for a moment when they saw me, looked relieved. When they realized I was alone, their expressions fell.

“Hi, Bree, Sam.”

“Hello, Jayna. Braydon isn’t with you?”

I shook my head as I sat down. There was a carafe of coffee on the table, so I poured a cup immediately. “You haven’t heard from him?”

They exchanged worried glances. “We got a message at about three a.m.—we didn’t see it till this morning.”

Bree slid her phone over. Braydon had sent a short message.

Sry. Fxit. Sry

I took a sip of the coffee. “I got a message kinda like that too. I think he dealt with the loss by drinking.”

His mom’s eyes widened. “But he has a two-beer limit.”

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