Page 18 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
The horn blares. The crowd erupts.
1-0, Avalanche.
But the Wolves push back hard. The next few plays are a blur of bodies crashing, sticks clashing, skates carving deep into the ice. They play the puck well, forcing us into long defensive plays. My legs burn, but I stay locked in, tracking every movement.
Then, a breakdown.
Tomas loses an edge behind the net, and their center pounces, threading a pass to a winger parked at the crease. I drop to my knees, pads sealed to the ice.
Too late.
The puck slips through.
1-1.
I slam my stick against the post, shaking it off. Short memory. Reset.
The third period is a war. Hits get heavier, passes sharper. Midway through, Jackson draws a penalty, and our power play goes to work. Liam wins the draw, feeding Lucas at the point. He hesitates, then rips a shot through traffic….
Deflected.
Jackson redirects it past the goalie’s glove.
2-1, Avalanche.
The final minutes are brutal. The Wolves pull their goalie, throwing everything at us. The puck zips from stick to stick, testing our defense.
Thirty seconds left.
Faceoff in our zone. The ref drops the puck, and chaos erupts. A scramble. Sticks clash, skates dig in. The puck squirts loose - right to their winger. He winds up…
A brutal shot. High, fast.
I move, but not fast enough.
The puck slams into my shoulder, pain exploding through me as it deflects into the net.
The red light flashes.
2-2.
I barely register the Wolves celebrating. My shoulder throbs. The final seconds tick down. The buzzer sounds.
Overtime.
And I’m hurt.
My shoulder burns like hell, but I shake it off. I’ve played through worse. The guys are counting on me, and I won’t let them down.
The buzzer sounds, signaling overtime. The energy in the arena is electric - fans are on their feet, pounding the glass, chanting. The Avalanche bench is locked in, but exhaustion is creeping in. Overtime hockey is a different beast. One mistake, and it is over.
I crouch in front of the net, gripping my stick tighter than I should. The puck drops at center ice. Liam wins the faceoff, sending it back to Tomas, who skates up fast, weaving through defenders. He passes to Jackson, who fires a shot -blocked. Their goalie barely flinched.
The puck ricochets to the other side, and suddenly, they’re rushing down the ice. A two-on-one break. Lucas is the only one back. He lunges, trying to intercept the pass, but they get through. My gut tightens.
Here it comes.
The forward winds up, eyes locked on me. I track the puck, shifting slightly, anticipating the shot. He takes it - hard and fast, glove side.
