Page 278 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
But as bad as last night was, standing here now, watching my team of fierce girls fight the same ruthless battle, is even worse.
The sad part is, they’re not even the weaker team. They’ve just made a couple of mistakes that allowed their opponents to take advantage, and the ref doesn’t seem to be on our side.
Frustration oozes from the team as they fight to get the puck toward the goal, but none of them are trying harder to turn this game around than Sutton.
She’s a force to be reckoned with, but as of yet, she hasn’t managed to make a difference.
I want it for her. Just like I wanted it for Kodie last night.
But I couldn’t help then, and I can’t now. All I can do is scream and shout my support and hope it’s enough.
It won’t be.
I woke up yesterday with the hangover from hell. I’m pretty sure it was the worst one I’ve ever suffered. It was long after lunchtime before I was able to drag my ass out of bed and function like a normal person. And Parker wasn’t any better.
We ordered in coffee and food before collapsing on my couch with our heads pounding and stomachs swirling.
She was the one who found the images of me tagged on my Instagram account.
She also happily pointed out how hot I looked in the arms of Andrey Petrov and how Kodie would lose his mind if he saw them.
The thought made my heart flutter momentarily before it contracted painfully and I murmured that he’d moved on.
Parker didn’t want to accept my words, but thankfully, our food arrived and cut the conversation short.
I stand there helplessly as the minutes count down to the end of the game. The score is three-zero.
My heart is in my throat as our girls push harder and harder.
I glance at the time.
One more play.
One more chance to score.
I watch as Megan tells the girls which play, and after brief words among those on the ice, they line up for the puck drop.
The puck is dropped, and for what feels like the first time tonight, we win possession.
Our center shoots it to Mila, who quickly takes off, but her mark is right on her, stopping her from even attempting to shoot.
She looks up, searching for options as Sutton breaks free.
Oh my god.
My heart is in my throat as hope blooms inside me. Of course, we’re not going to win. But getting a goal in before the buzzer is still something.
Mila pulls her stick back, ready to pass, and I swear I watch in slow motion as the puck slides across the ice, right toward where Sutton is going to be able to pick it up and hopefully put it straight into the back of the net.
I swear, everyone holds their breath.
I gasp as the puck hits Sutton’s stick and she shoots.
But I don’t get to see if she scores—and neither does Sutton, because a defenseman from the other team suddenly slams into her, sending herflying backward.
“SUTTON,” I scream as I watch her small body leave the ice.
Oh my god.
