Page 83 of Puck'N Enemy
My heart continues to race with the sheer disbelief that we’d done it. That I’d done it. For once, I didn’t just play. I led.
My teammates are still laughing and reliving the last play as we get close to the locker room. As they herd in, my gaze falls on the tall, muscular hunk wearing a dark leather jacket.
Logan stands right before me, grinning. But he’s not alone. Mitchikov, Maddie, and Coach Becker are also with him.
“There’s our star,” Mitchikov calls out, his familiar smirk in place.
“Logan's been prowling around the arena like he owns the place,” Maddie adds, mock-whispering to me. “He doesn’t even go here, but he knows where all the good seats are and where the locker room is situated. You might as well play for the Bears now, Brother.”
“Hey, don’t say that,” Mitchikov says at once, looking serious. “The Knights can’t do without their captain.”
Coach Becker chuckles, enjoying their banter. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him looking so happy and energetic. I guess it was a good decision to invite him to the game tonight and let him enjoy a game from the bleachers instead of his living room couch.
My heart swells with a warm emotion. This moment feels so surreal, I have to bite my tongue to make sure I’m not dreaming.
I’ve walked off the ice so many times after a game that I’ve lost count. And for most of those, I watched my teammates meet their families, girlfriends, boyfriends, and friends. They all had people show up to cheer for them.
I never experienced that joy. No one’s ever been around to tell me I did a good job or to just be there for me. I may get an occasional pat from a coach, but that was it.
For the first time in my life, I have people waiting eagerly for me.
“You were incredible, Dylan,” Maddie says, hugging me around the middle. “You were the fastest and most handsome guy out there today. I can’t wait to tell my friends you’re dating my brother.”
A loud chuckle escapes me as I glance over at Logan, who’s shaking his head at his baby sister.
“Hey, she’s not wrong,” Mitchikov says with a half-proud, half-grudging look that’s just so him. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were showing off on the rink.”
I laugh. “Maybe a little.”
Coach Becker steps forward, his eyes misted with tears of pride and joy. “I remember the first time I saw you skate. You were all fury and no finesse. But tonight… You were an athlete out there. I hope you know that.”
Something tugs deep inside my chest. I didn’t expect to get choked up, especially after the high of winning a game. But hearing Coach’s praise just makes me melt all over.
This is the man who gave me a place on a high school team when I was just a scrappy foster kid with a bad attitude and no one to go home to. He’s the one who helped me run from Knightswood to save me from Pete. My coach is the one who gave me a second chance in life and taught me to start over again.
His praise means everything to me.
Stepping forward, Logan pulls me into a tight hug. “You were amazing,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You were so damn good, Dyl. I’m so proud of you.”
I hold onto him tighter, not caring that I’m dripping with sweat. “Sorry, I’m gross but I just had to hug my boyfriend.”
His chest shakes with laughter. “Nah, you’re perfect.”
I quickly peck him on the lips because there are a lot of people around and I don’t want them clicking photos and making a big deal out of it. Pulling back a little, I meet his gaze. “This feels unreal.”
“What does?” he asks, still holding me by the waist like he isn’t planning on letting me go anytime soon.
I gesture toward Maddie and Mitchikov, who’re locked in a heated debate on who’s the second most handsome guy among the players tonight. I also glance at Coach Becker, who’s watching the whole scene with a happy grin on his face.
“Having all of you here feels so damn great,” I tell Logan. “It’s kind of the first time I have friends who’ve shown up to cheer for me.”
“If you keep paying for my ticket, I’ll show up to all your games,” Maddie says, grinning widely.
“Deal,” I say immediately.
“Hey, I’m always up for a game,” Mitchikov says, digging his hands into his pockets. “And you’re not too boring on the ice, so count on seeing me more often.”
Logan just smiles. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
