Page 58 of My Pucked Up Enemy

"Perfect timing," I reply. "Chadwick’s tracking clean. Parker regrouped and cleared like it was drawn on a board."

Connor scores a beauty later in the period off a broken play. With chaos swirling around him, he just finds the net. That doesn’t happen unless you’re centered.

James—God love him—nearly starts a fight after a rough hit, but he visibly swallows his reaction and skates off. He mouths something and taps his thigh.

"Reset," I whisper to myself.

Third period is high tempo. Devils throw everything at us but the Acers don’t flinch.

Connor turns a near-miss into a controlled breakout. Parker takes a hit, spins off it, and moves the puck with poise. Alex tracks the puck like it owes him money.

Then with two minutes left, James feeds it to Parker who snipes top shelf.

3–1 Acers.

The horn sounds. Victory! The Acers just clinched a spot in the playoffs!

From the suite, our section celebrates. Staff clapping, fans are pounding the glass. On the ice, gloves fly off. Fists pump. It's that kind of win—earned from the inside out.

I exhale. Hard. Because I know what this means.

They didn’t just win on the scoreboard.

They won in the mental game.

The press room is bustling post-game. A packed crowd of reporters, flashing cameras, and microphones are lined up along the table. Coach Stephens, Parker, Connor, and Alex file into their seats.

A reporter calls out from the front row, "Coach Stephens, what do you think has changed most about the team's mindset lately?"

Coach starts, per usual, voice steady. "We’re playing smarter hockey. Not just physically but mentally. Credit to the players. And to our hockey whisperer, who's been instrumental behind the scenes."

I blink from the back of the room. That wasn’t in the script. A reporter near the front lifts a hand and calls out, “Care to elaborate on that?”

Coach barely misses a beat, smirking just slightly. “Let’s just say the boys are learning a new kind of discipline.”

Another reporter jumps in quickly. “Parker, walk us through that goal. What did you see out there?”

Parker leans forward slightly, his voice all gravel and confidence. “Devils made a bad line change, I spotted the gap, and Henderson gave me a clean feed. From there, I wasn’t thinking. Just let it rip. Found the top corner.”

There’s a rumble of impressed murmurs. No mention of cues or breathing techniques, just pure hockey instinct. Alpha as hell. Parker gives a tight nod like that’s all that needs to be said.

Another reporter turns to Connor. “You’re the team captain. What does clinching the playoffs mean after the kind of season you’ve had?”

Connor’s expression sharpens, his tone serious. “It means we didn’t just survive the grind, we evolved. We stayed in it when things got rough. We held each other accountable. It’s not just about making playoffs. It’s about proving we belong here.”

The reporter turns to Alex. "Mid-season slump. You guys looked lost. But the turnaround is one of the best we've seen. What changed?"

Alex leans into the mic, his voice even and unshaken. "We stopped trying to muscle through everything and started working smarter. We’ve got someone behind the scenes who knows how to strip the noise and get us dialed in." He pauses. "Helps us remember how to show up. How to lead. How to win. And that’s made all the difference."

I freeze for a beat as half the room turns to glance at me. Reporters scribble, a few nod.

I wasn't expecting that. But I’d be lying if I didn’t feel something uncoil in my chest. A quiet pride.

Derek catches my eye from the podium. Offers a small, approving nod.

I nod back.

After the press clears and the noise fades to the low hum of arena cleanup, I step into the hallway outside the media room. I’m halfway to the exit when I hear footsteps behind me.

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