Page 79 of Puck My Stepbrother
And that was exactly what I did. On the second faceoff, I focused my entire energy on Thomson, snatched the puck immediately, and raced down the ice, taking one shot and missing the net entirely. That didn’t matter, though. I had to try again. So I grabbed the puck again, but Ben Hamilton came out of nowhere to check me into the boards. I was dazed, but retained control of the puck. Two more defenders tried to steal the puck from me, but I broke free from them and swung around the net.
I cocked my stick back and drove it forward with all my strength. The stick cracked against the ice, rocketing the puck into the net.
When the crowd went wild, I thought I might’ve regained some of the magic I’d lost in all of this. Even with Quinn heavy on my heart, I could still lead the Larkin Lions to victory.
But I knew better than to let my guard down. After all, I understood that hockey was a sixty-minute game better than anyone. Stony Brook came back with a vengeance, clearly wanting to put this series away. My shift had ended, so I had to watch the next part of the game from the bench. Stony Brook retaliated with a goal of their own almost immediately, and I could do nothing about it. When Coach Hardison sent me and two other players back onto the ice, I used everything in my arsenal to stop Stony Brook, but they scored again.
Now they had a two-goal lead.
Coach Hardison chewed us out at the first intermission, but kept looking in my direction. I knew damn well he was addressing me individually as much as the entire team. I was supposed to be the leader, the guy who kept everyone on track, and I couldn’t let the team down now.
When we returned to the ice, I sucked in a deep breath and readied myself for a knock-down drag-out affair. I might not have been playing like myself, but I hated the sting of losing more than anything in the world. I’d already suffered that same feeling of defeat to Jeff, the dorky kid who’d stolen Quinn from me, and I couldn’t let Stony Brook deprive me of what I had left.
After the second period, Stony Brook scored yet another goal on us, increasing their lead to three, but I knew better than to write off the game. I came back with grit and determination in the third period, landing one goal almost immediately. And then, halfway through the period, I scored another. We had our opponents on the ropes, and I understood that was when I needed to work the hardest.
With two minutes left to play, I felt like I had nothing left in the tank, but I pushed myself forward anyway. I kept takingshots at the net and missing, but Stony Brook would have to kill me before I handed them a win. We’d pulled Ryan Detenbeck from his position as goalie to give ourselves an extra man. Even with the added help, we still couldn’t put the puck in the net.
Finally, the clock read all zeroes and the buzzer sounded. The game had ended, and so had my dreams of leading our team to another title. You could’ve heard a pin drop in that arena. The place couldn’t have felt more deflated. I fell to my hands and knees, but I didn’t feel ashamed. I needed that time to process the loss…but I understood I’d need a long time to get over this completely.
When I got up, I joined the rest of the Lions in shaking hands with the Stony Brook players, who’d move to the next round of the playoffs, whereas the Larkin Lions wouldn’t repeat as national champions.
And I had myself to blame for that. Like I said, hockey’s a team sport, but I was supposed to be the one leading my teammates to victory. I knew what was expected of me, and I’d failed. I wouldn’t need another meeting with Coach Hardison to underscore that point—but I figured that meeting would be coming anyway.
I knew what would happen to my future, but none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was Quinn Standish. I might’ve felt like I’d lost him before, but with hockey out of the way, I was determined to get him back no matter what.
31
QUINN
“You look more nervous than I do,” Dad said.
“Maybe I am.”
“Something wrong?”
Oh God. Maybe he knew?
If he didn’t, I couldn’t tell him that something was wrong on his wedding day. Like, that twenty-four hour period was supposed to be about him and his bride and no one else.
I knew it would all come out sooner or later. That wouldn’t stop me from holding back for as long as possible. In the meantime, I’d help my Dad with last-minute wedding preparations.
So far, I hadn’t had to scramble around to put out any fires. I’d kept in touch with the photographer, caterer, and DJ, and it sounded like everything would go off without a hitch. Now it was time to get ready.
I’d rarely seen my father dressed in a suit, let alone a tuxedo, and I couldn’t believe how nicely he cleaned up. I normally never dressed up either, and I rarely felt good about my looks. My own tuxedo changed all of that.
“Is this about Levi?” he asked.
“Nope.”
He eyed me as if to say he knew I was full of shit, so I might as well come clean.
“Come on, son. You know I don’t like to have secrets between us.”
“It’s not Levi…it’s actually about Jeff.”
Now Dad lifted an eyebrow.
“Jeff? Seriously? I thought things were great between you two.”
