Page 68 of Power Play

Maybe not. But I still have you.

I’m feeling good. I’m ready to tackle this last period. I’m ready to kick it up a notch and

make this game worthy of being my last. And as the crowd roars for Leray as he gets back on the ice, I’m locked in.

FTD.

I get low, waiting for the puck to drop. I dig my blades into the ice.

And just as Caleb passes the puck to me, I’m flying down the ice. I have a clear shot, and I’m ready to take it. I line it up.Three, two, one…a Drifter defenseman blocks my path. Troy is open, and I pass it to him before Leray can get to him. He lines up the puck as I’m skating around Leray, and then the buzzer sounds.

We score a fucking goal.

We head back to center ice for the next face-off, and Tommy takes possession.

We skate back down the rink, Leray in a fucking frenzy. His teammates are flying around like hornets. Tommy lines up, shoots, and…blocked.Donny passes the puck back down the ice, and I have it in front of me. I whip down the ice, skating faster than I ever have. I pass it to Jefferson who passes it back to me. And then I’m square with the goal again. I line it up.Three, two, one…slam.

Before I realize what’s happening, I’m sailing across the ice and into the boards. I close my eyes, waiting for impact. But surprisingly, my head feels okay. I’m on my back, and I hear the audience’s collective gasp as I lie on the ice.

I see Tommy overtop of me, checking to make sure I’m okay. When he sees I’m conscious, he sails across the ice in the direction of Leray. I hear him cussing up a storm, and some of the other guys rush after him before we get a penalty.

Dr. Sanchez is in front of me immediately.

“Did you hit your head?” he asks. I shake it.

“No,” I say, which is the truth. My shoulder took the impact.

“Hey, fucker! How about you try another one of those cheap shots on me!” I hear Tommy calling, and Leray is skating back toward him as they pull me up from the ice. But just before they make contact, the refs blow the whistles, skating between them. And then they give Leray a boarding penalty call. He throws his hands up, and just as his teammates are guiding him off the ice, we lock eyes. I pull off my helmet and smile at him, winking as they spin him around and pull him into the penalty box.

Roy makes his way to me, standing in front of me. Coach is on the ice next to me.

“You okay?” he asks. I nod, pulling my helmet back on. Roy hesitates for a moment, then smiles.

“The asshole’s out,” he says, nodding toward their box. “What do you say we make these next two minutes?” I smile back at him as he pulls me in and claps my back. “Let’s do this, old man,” he whispers. I laugh.

“Let’s do this.”

The puck drops, and I’m like a machine. I skate down the ice, passing it to Caleb. He keeps it, pushing it down the ice. And then I get in the right pocket, waiting for him to see me. Leray is out. His corner is open. And now, I’m here.

Caleb never looks at me, but I know this move. He fakes it to the left, but swings his stick to the right, and it comes right to me. I push it forward until I know I have a clear shot. I pull my stick back, and as if the world is moving in slow motion, I hit the puck with more force than I’ve ever hit anything in my whole life. It whizzes through the air, right past the Drifters' goalie.

And then the buzzer goes off.

And we’ve won the fucking game.

The arena goes fucking nuts. My teammates are flying at me, crashing into me in a mix of limbs and pads and sticks. They’re jumping on me, and we’re floating down the ice like one, big, happy lump of man.

The audience is going wild, throwing towels and shirts onto the ice, chanting my name. But as I finally break free from the Storm storm, I look over toward our bench. I skate over toward the ice, and I motion for Harper. Lo looks at me, confused. But Tyson knows what to do. He scoops her up and carries her toward our box. I motion for them to open the gates, and when they do, Tyson passes her through. I bend down and scoop her up, and Lo pushes through. I bend forward to kiss her, but I pause. Harper is right here.And so is the rest of the world.But she just smiles, pushing up to her tiptoes and kissing me hard.

“You did it, baby,” she says. I kiss her again.

I did. But all that matters is that I have you.

“Be right back,” I say with a wink, then head out onto the ice. I’m holding Harper up on my shoulder, and I start my victory lap around the ice. The crowd is going nuts, standing on their feet as they chant my name over and over again. The jumbotron readsThank you, #3and flashes back and forth between me skating. I point up to it so Harper can see herself, and she squeals and claps her hands. “Wave to your fans, Harp,” I tell her, and she does. And as I look around, I just take it all in. I soak in the people screaming my name. I soak in Coach crying a tear of joy. I soak in my teammates lining up to clap for me. I soak in the little girl kicking her little feet, making a core memory on my shoulder. And I soak in the image of her mom, across the ice, jumping up and down and screaming for me, wiping her own tears.

She’s mine.

I skate back around to her, and she reaches out for Harper. But before she can take her, I tug her out onto the ice. She holds onto me for dear life, but I just stand there, with both of them in my arms. I want them both to soak in this moment with me. Because without them, it wouldn’t mean anything.

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