Page 62 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
3–1.
The Avalanche bench erupts. There are a few scattered cheers from our small but loyal traveling fans, but the rest of the arena is filled with disappointed groans.
Five seconds left.
The game’s all but over.
The Steelhawks know it. The puck never gets close enough for them to mount a proper attack. Their heads drop, shoulders slump. The pressure’s gone.
The buzzer sounds.
Game over.
We’ve won.
As our away fans cheer, my teammates charge the ice, a mob of celebration. The weight of the game still hangs on me, but it is fading, replaced by the satisfying sting of victory.
Liam’s the first one to reach me, giving me a hard slap on the back. "Nice save, man. Couldn’t have done it without you," he says, grinning.
I just nod. “We all did it."
A rush of pride courses through me as I glance at the scoreboard - 3–1 - the final score. The Avalanche has won.
I catch a glimpse of my teammates celebrating. Tomas, Adam, Liam, and Paul, all with huge smiles, lifting their sticks in the air.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
We did it.
Without meaning to, my mind drifts to the card, back to that handwriting.
Good luck, Blake. We are rooting for you.
I can’t wait to hear their voices.
****
I push open the front door, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, exhaustion weighing me down after the game and celebratory dinner. But the second I step inside, the sound of squeals, screams, and uncontrollable laughter fills my ears.
My brows pull together. What the…?
The noise is coming from the kitchen. I stride toward it, the rich scent of something sweet filling the air, and stop short at the doorway.
Absolute chaos.
Whitney and the kids are in the middle of a flour war. White powder dusts the air, covering the countertops, the floor and them. The twins are shrieking with laughter, throwing handfuls of flour at Whitney, who is dodging and tossing it back with just as much enthusiasm. Mia scoops a handful and throws it right at Whitney’s face, making her gasp before she launches her counterattack. The kids squeal in delight, dodging her retaliation, little giggles filling the space.
A strange warmth stirs in my chest. This. This right here.
I lean against the doorway, watching, imagining - for just a second - what it would be like if this wasn’t temporary. If she wasn’t just here for a while but here…, for good.
I swallow hard, pushing the thought aside.
I clear my throat. “You guys seem to be having so much fun you didn’t even notice I’m back,” I say, crossing my arms.
Silence.
The three of them freeze mid-action, eyes wide. And then, as if choreographed, the three of them blink - once, twice, three times - all in perfect sync.
