Page 37 of Soulmates and Slapshots
“So…I have a question,” I blurt out.
“And I have an answer.”
“I know you’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to pressure you…but I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner again.”
Her face lights up. “I’d like that.”
“We have a game tomorrow, but what about the next day?” I ask.
“Sounds perfect.”
It takes all my effort to contain my excitement.
“So are you ready for the game?” she asks.
I sigh. “I think so, but the Barracudas are tough.”
“And the Ice Breakers are tougher,” she replies.
“I like how you think,” I say, grinning.
“What can I say? I’m turning into a hockey fan,” she replies.
Something stirs in my chest. I didn’t think she could get any more perfect. Now if only she would stay in Maple Falls.
The Barracudas are as brutal as I expected. They’ve been going hard all night, relentless in both their hits and their mind games. I know it’s part of the sport, but tonight it feels especially intense. I hear Fiona’s words echoing in my mind like a chant meant to keep me grounded.
The Ice Breakers are tougher.
I want to focus on that, but in thismoment I’m not so sure.
Lucian slams into the boards and hits the ice with a loud thud. I cringe, expecting him to stay down, but he shakes it off and pushes himself to his feet, jaw set, eyes fierce. I hold out my glove, and he bumps it without hesitation.
“Let’s do this,” I call, voice tight with urgency.
The score is 2–2. There’s still time on the clock—just enough to tip this game in our favor. The energy on the ice is electric, and every player out here can feel it. It’s not just about skill anymore. It’s about grit.
The next minute is a blur. Sticks clash, skates carve hard lines into the ice, bodies crash into the glass. Neither team is backing down, and with every second, the tension thickens. We’re locked in a standoff, fighting to take control of the game.
I see an opening and go for it, stealing the puck. Almost instantly, two Barracudas close in on me, so I make a snap pass to Lucian. He barely catches it but keeps it moving, shifting it to Jamie in one smooth motion.
Jamie takes a shot, but it’s blocked.
The Barracudas manage to take control of the puck. The crowd holds its breath as they streak toward our goal, but Clément is ready.
Everything is moving in slow motion.
The puck sails through the air and glides past his glove hitting the back of the net.
The score changes 3–2.
The buzzer sounds. And the game is over.
My heart drops, and then the rink goes eerily quiet for a split second before the Barracudas erupt into cheers. I glance toward Clément, who’s on the ice. I skate over and pat him on the back without saying a word. We fought hard.
And no matter how many games I play, losing never gets easier.
I take a moment to breathe then look up into the stands. My eyes find Fiona almost instantly. She’s standing next to her aunt, bundled in a coat, waving gently. Her expression is encouraging but tinged with sadness. Her reassuring smile makes me feel a tiny bit better, and then I remember that she won’t be in the stands much longer. At some point she’s leaving Maple Falls and won’t be here for the losses or the wins.
