Page 133 of My Silver Lining

Battling over and over to take the lead.

The crowd grew more anxious as players jumped from the bench to the ice every time they switched out their teams.

Players were sent to the penalty box.

Tensions were growing as time wound down.

No one had scored, and there were only twenty-three seconds left on the clock.

“Let’s go!” Lulu and Cutler shouted at the same time.

The Lions had the puck.

Weston passed to Smith.

Smith passed to Jones.

Jones passed to Chadwick.

And before we could process what was happening, my brother was skating down the ice with a pack of Wolves behind him.

He was faster, but they were on him. He moved right unexpectedly, a play he told me they’d practiced. Everyone thought he’d pass the puck back to Jones, so the other team moved, and as a small opening appeared down the center, Clarktook his shot. Two members of the opposing team were right behind him, doing what they could to stop the shot. Another player moved quickly on his left. Clark saw the opening, but they were too late to do anything to stop him.

The world seemed to stand still as we followed the black puck down the center of the ice in a blur. Right into the net.

The cheers were deafening. Everyone in the arena was on their feet.

My parents had tears streaming down their faces. Lulu was jumping up and down with Henley and Cutler.

Emerson had flung herself into Nash and then Bridger.

Archer and Easton were both bent over their knees as if they were unable to catch their breath. Axel was losing his shit with Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Carlisle.

And I had Melody on my hip as she pumped her little fist in the air.

The Lions had just won the Stanley Cup.

“I think he’s hurt.” I heard Bridger’s voice as we all turned to see my brother down on the ice with his teammates around him. “That dude checked him low right after he took the shot.”

The celebration continued as a medic came out and moved everyone out of the way. I noticed my brother standing awkwardly on his leg as they helped him to his feet, and he held his arms up to let everyone know that he was okay.

The crowd roared in celebration, and we continued cheering, though I saw the concern on everyone’s faces around me.

He hadn’t walked off that ice on his own.

“Is he okay?” my mother asked.

“He’ll be fine. He just scored the winning point to win the Stanley Cup,” my father said proudly.

But Bridger and I shared a knowing look. Clark didn’t skate off the ice; he was assisted by his teammates, with a medic staying close by.

We were hugging, and the girls were all crying as we continued celebrating all the way down to meet Clark, where friends and family were invited to wait.

“That was amazing,” Lulu said, her hand in mine as we walked through the tunnel. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Hockey’s rough. He’s been hurt many times, and I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’ll have some time off now, so that’ll help. I’m so glad you were able to come with me to support him,” I said, leaning down and kissing her hard.

“I go where you go, Chadwick.”

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