Page 58 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Sure enough, Coach lit into me and gestured me to the bench.

I needed to catch my breath, but there was a huge difference between needing to and being forced to because you’d screwed up.

My gaze went to the stands, searching for Lindsay’s face.

From this distance, her features were muted, but she still stood out as the prettiest girl in the audience. She mouthed something, but I couldn’t read it. Then she blew me a kiss, like she’d done earlier, when I’d come off the ice for a time-out.

Finally she was coming to my games, and I didn’t want to lose my shit and fall apart. Which was part of why I’d psyched myself out. I’d tried to use her presence and encouragement to center me and motivate me to play better, only then I’d started to think about how attached I was getting to a girl who’d be gone soon.

Then I’d made a few sloppy moves and stupid errors, but couldn’t seem to stop once I’d made one. It didn’t help that I knew Dad was in the stands, recording everything I did wrong.

I’ve got to focus on hockey, no more thinking about who’s in the stands.

I scooted down the bench, flinching when we had another turnover.

“Coach, put me in. I won’t screw up again, I swear.”

The scowl he already had on his face deepened. “Maybe I made a mistake thinking you were ready for playoffs.”

“No, sir. I’m ready. Put me in and I’ll make sure they don’t score again.”

He watched as the team set up their defense, quiet for so long I thought he’d forgotten about me. He called his last time-out, and when the team skated in, he outlined a plan. Daniel was going to guard the goal. My job was to take out whoever got the puck and do whatever it took to get it to Beck or Dane.

We followed the plan, and Beck shot and scored.

Two points down.

Over the next five minutes, I shut out the rest of the world and went after the other team, checking, blocking, and setting picks. More than that, I actually enjoyed playing, the way I used to when I joined pick-up games, before all the stress and expectations got thrown into the mix. Dane, Hudson, and Beck cut and weaved, passing and passing until one of them got a clear shot—Dane this time.

Yes!

One point down.

After a long battle near the other team’s goal, I managed to steal the puck. I fired it toward our side of the ice, aiming to get it into the scoring area more than to try to score. Hudson picked it up, shot, and scored.

All tied up.The other team called a time-out.

“Ox! I want you back down in front of their net,” Coach yelled. “They almost scored that last play and I need you to make sure they don’t. We win now or we go into overtime—those are the only options.”

I nodded.

We headed back onto the ice. Two and a half minutes. I just had to keep them from getting another point.

I blocked one shot. My teammate recovered and the action headed toward our goal. I wanted to go get in there, but I held back, ready for a fast break.

With ten seconds to go, Beck shot. The puck went in and the crowd went crazy. I didn’t let myself relax until the very last second fell off the clock.

Then we barreled into each other, celebrating our win.

The awesome high that comes along with winning hung around until I exited the locker room and saw my dad’s stern expression.

Why can’t he just be happy we won? Just once I’d like to see even a hint of pride.

Then again, I did screw up pretty badly before getting my head back in the game. How could I have let myself get so distracted during a huge playoff game?

Dad stepped toward me, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of movement. Lindsay slammed into me, her arms going around my neck, her legs wrapping around my waist.

She planted a smacking kiss on my lips. “I knew you guys would win. I mean, you worried me just a little bit, but I knew you’d pull it off.” She pressed her lips to mine again, and I tightened my grip and kissed her back, enjoying the happy lust haze that took over and softened the rest of the world.

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