Page 81 of Puck'N Enemy
I can finally begin to live. Looking around the quiet, sunlight-filled kitchen, I feel like I can finally breathe.
“A nap does sound nice,” I say, grinning.
25
Logan
One week later
The cold air inside the arena bites my cheeks, but I barely notice it. The stadium lights gleam on the ice, throwing sharp reflections off the players' visors as they skate hard across the rink. A sea of fans, covered in green and silver, roars around me, but all my focus is trained on one person.
Dylan.
Wearing the bold green and silver of the Bears, #19 is fast, agile, and relentless. He weaves between defenders like water slipping through fingers. My heart throbs in sync with every move he makes during the game, keeping me on edge.
“There he goes,” Mitchikov mutters from beside me, his eyes narrowed, posture stiff with excitement. “Goddamn! That kid’s got some legs on him.”
A proud grin flickers on my lips.
“He’s been like that since he was in high school,” Coach Becker says from my other side.
“Yeah,” I say, reminiscing about those days. “Dylan used to wake me up at five to go shoot pucks with him. That’s how he got so good.”
“Sounds like true love,” Mitchikov says, chuckling.
“Sounds like torture,” Maddie chimes in from beside Mitchikov. “But yeah, your boyfriend’s a machine, I’ll admit that.”
A chuckle escapes me as I turn my attention back to the rink.
Tonight, the Silver Bears of Silverlake University are playing against the Rowan Devils from Rowan Academy in Jersey. Dylan has been practicing hard over the past week for this game and it’s showing.
Mitchikov, Maddie, and Coach Becker joined me tonight to cheer him on. At first, I was the only one who was supposed to come but when Dylan mentioned he’s never had any friends or family cheer him during the games like his other teammates, I knew I had to do something about it.
Dylan has to know he’s not alone anymore. There are people who love him for who he is. Mitchikov readily agreed to come to the game, while Maddie was so excited, she talked about it to all her friends at school. Coach Becker also made sure he was feeling well enough to join us to cheer Dylan.
A loud cry from the crowd jolts me out of my thoughts. Looking toward the rink, I look for the puck and find it bouncing off the boards with forwards from both teams lunging for it.
Dylan is fastest, though, catching it cleanly on the blade of his stick. He dips around a defender and rockets toward the net. The crowd watches with bated breath as he takes his shot.
The puck slams into the top corner of the net with deadly precision. The entire Bears section erupts into cheers, the goal horn blaring as Dylan raises a triumphant fist into the air. His teammates mob him, slapping his helmet, yelling praises.
Maddie and Mitchikov are on their feet too, shouting and cheering with the rest of the crowd. Coach Becker has a faint smile on his lined face and his eyes glow with pride and victory.
As for me, my heart nearly bursts with happiness and pride. “He did it,” I whisper. I didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the words came anyway, breathless and reverent. “He really did it.”
Coach Becker claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’ve said this for a long time. That kid just needed someone who believed in him and he’d do miracles.”
My throat tightens as past memories flash by in my mind.
Dylan used to be a scared, skinny foster kid with bruises on his body and no place to call home. He used to look at the world like it might swallow him whole, so he fought back twice as hard. And now...now he’s on the ice, radiant and fierce, scoring goals like he was born to do it.
Leaning back in my seat, I continue to watch him. Every pass Dylan makes, every pivot and hit, I soak it in like sunlight.
Mitchikov nudges me with his elbow. “You know what the scouts are calling him?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“The Phantom,” Mitchikov says, chuckling. “They say he ghosts defenders before they even know he’s there.”
