Page 120 of Top Scorer
CHAPTER 49
TRISTAN
The alarm rips me out of sleep. I stumble into the bathroom, splash water on my face, and brush my teeth mechanically. My game day routine includes this and some stretches before heading out for breakfast.
Today is no ordinary game day.
The Stanley Cup is in the arena because we are at the brink of winning the championship. In the best-of-seven series, a fourth victory wins the entire season. This is it. I never thought I’d find myself in this position again, so close to getting my name on the best trophy in sports. Just the thought makes my veins flood with electricity and my entire body ready to pounce on the ice.
Ligaya should be awake, since she’s three hours ahead. She’s always my first call of the day, even if she occasionally answers groggy and annoyed. Unfortunately, I’m sent to voicemail.
There’s a missed call but it’s from my mother. My thumb hovers over the voicemail. Before I can check, the phone rings. It’s Mom again, uncharacteristically persistent.
I swipe to answer. “Hi. Is everything OK?”
“Tristan, hello.” Her voice wobbles. “Didn’t you get my voicemail?”
My gut tightens. “I didn’t get a chance. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she bursts loudly. “I want to emphasize that Everything. Is. Stable.”
Jesus, is there a more terrifying reassurance? Why is she talking likethat?“Stable?” My stomach flips. “Are you talking about Ligaya? What happened? She hasn’t been answering her phone.”
“They’re monitoring her in the hospital. The babies were lethargic and—”
“What?”
“I said they are monitoring her—”
“I heard that. What were you saying about the babies.” I interrupted because my mind is spinning, and I can’t quite see straight.
“They were lethargic last night. The doctor kept her overnight for monitoring.”
“Shit, I’m coming home.” My chest caves in on itself. “Tell her to answer her phone. I’m leaving right now.”
I hang up before Mom confirms my instructions, shove my feet into sneakers, and sprint down the hall to pound on my coach’s hotel room door. No answer. I hit it harder, so loud that half the floor wakes up.
“What’s wrong?” Gordon appears across the hall, hair sticking up.
“Ligaya’s in the hospital. I’m catching the first plane out.”
“Oh, shit.” That’s Lance, sticking his head out of another room. “We’ll let coach know. Go!”
I hurry back to my room, ripping clothes off hangers and stuffing whatever I can grab into a bag. Wallet and phone and . . . what else do I need? My hand tremors so badly, I drop my charger twice.
The door bursts open. It’s Dexter with half the team crowded behind him.
“Grab the basics. We’ll pack up the rest and track down the coaching staff for you. Tristan, are you hearing me?”
Dazed, I manage, “Yeah. Thanks.”
My voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else. My surroundings are a blur of hotel doors, a lobby, cabs at the curb, and the airport emerging at a distance behind a shroud of mist and rain. I check the announcement board and beeline to the airline counter with the soonest flight. It doesn’t depart for another four hours, which at the moment feels like a fucking lifetime.
I call Ligaya again. Sent to voicemail again. Dread claws up my throat. I stab at Mom’s number instead.
“Tristan,” she answers before the second ring.
“I’m on my way. I’m sorry I hung up. It’s—”
