Page 99 of The Legend Next Door
There are twenty seconds left on the timer. I have two opposing players coming at me, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them stop me because Luca was right: Stirlings play to win.
Then, now, always.
I tap the puck left then right, lowering my stance slightly, bracing for impact from Luddy. I receive the force with my left shoulder and turn into it hard. It throws him off-balance and puts him flat on his ass. Ordinarily, I’d smirk, but I don’t have time for that today. My skates slice through the ice, hissing as I hit top speed. Thoms is careening straight at me. I veer left sharply at the last second and lose him.
It’s just me now. Me and the goalie. The posts and the net. It’s a hard shot. An impossible shot. The angle is tight. Too tight. Ordinarily, it’s not a shot I would take. I’d look back and find someone, anyone, wearing my colors, and I’d pass the puck to them.
Not this time. This time, I don’t. This time, I see the puck. And the goal. I see an acute angle between me and the far right corner of the net. The goalie is in place, right where he needs to be to stop it. There’s no margin for error. None at all.
I transfer the weight from my back foot to the front and swing my stick back, pausing for a split second before snapping my wrists and shooting the puck like an arrow from a tightly strung bow.
It’s an impossible shot.
On any other day, it would be an impossible shot, but today, nothing’s impossible. The puck bounces once, twice, and follows the precise line I drew for it.
The goalie lunges.
He’s too late.
The net flies back behind him as the puck finds its way home.
It’s one of those goals that’s met with stunned silence. With frozen smiles and eyes in wide circles.
The buzzer sounds before the applause reaches me.
In a matter of seconds, I’m stampeded. My team is everywhere, arms and hands and chests crashing into me before lifting me off my feet. I feel like I’m flying. I am flying. Endorphins are singing. Adrenaline surging. My heart is beating so hard and fast that I can hardly hear the crowd over the din. I can see them though. Thousands of hands clapping. Fists raised in the air. Mouths open wide.
I take it all in, spinning and unsteady, as the momentousness of the occasion finally hits me.
I did it.
I fucking did it.
I rewrote part of my story. Not the whole story, but I rewrote one of the chapters. A significant chapter. I kept most things the same because they matter, but I changed the ending.
I spot my family in the crowd and the lump in my throat is suddenly too much to swallow. Jeremiah is dressed head to toe in Blackeyes merchandise, and I really do mean head to toe. So is Luca. They’re both bouncing up and down and screaming with joy. Amy is next to Luca. Her face is bright red and tears are streaming down it. Her fists are pumping, and she’s cheering. Not a little, a lot. She’s cheering in a way that’s borderline crazy. Honestly, I’m not even sure you’d call what she’s doing cheering. It’s more like bellowing. More like roaring a victory cry most people have forgotten.
As soon as I see her, I know what it is, what she’s doing, what’s happening.
Amy’s not just cheering. She’s not just my sister-in-law, rooting for me. She’s standing in for her sister.
Tears start to fall. They’re mine, but I don’t feel them. I feel no pain at all, only joy and love, and yeah, a rib-cracking, chest-swelling sense of triumph as well.
When my teammates set me down, Luddy makes his way over to me. When he’s a foot away, he loosens a glove and drops it to the ice. There was a time, a long time, when seeing Luddy like this would’ve made me tense. It would’ve made my blood boil. Not anymore.
Now, I loosen my own glove and drop it as well.
“Stirling,” he says like it’s a full sentence.
“Luddy,” I reply the same way.
He offers me his hand, and I take it. As our palms meet, he gives me an up-nod and the start of a smile.
“Good game.”
“Holy shit, what a day,” says Jeremiah again.
“It was unreal, right?”
