Page 127 of Cold Feet
"That's more like it," Marcy said approvingly. "Looks like your boy just needed a little motivation."
The minutes ticked down, tension mounting with each Slashers rush. With five minutes left in regulation, Boston took a penalty for tripping Logan as he drove toward the net. Power play opportunity.
"Come on, come on," Coco muttered beside me, clutching my arm.
The Slashers' first power play unit took the ice: Logan at center, Miller at right wing, Cam at left wing, Zayne and Pietro back at the blue line at the points. They moved the puck with precision, looking for openings in Boston's penalty kill formation.
Logan won a face-off back to Miller who feinted a shot before sliding the puck to Pietro. Pietro found Cam on the left side, and Cam one-timed a rocket toward the net – only to have it blocked by a diving defenseman.
"So close!" Shayna groaned.
Boston cleared the puck, but the Slashers regrouped quickly. This time, Logan carried it into the zone himself, drawing two defenders before dropping it back to Zayne. Zayne fired a cross-ice pass to Cam, who was cutting toward the net.
In one fluid motion that seemed to happen in slow motion, Cam received the pass, deked around a defender, and fired a shot top shelf that the goalie had no chance of stopping.
The red light flashed. The horn blared. The Slashers bench erupted.
"YES!" I screamed, jumping up and pulling Coco with me. The rest of the WAGs were on their feet too, hugging and cheering.
When the celebration line broke apart, Cam skated to center ice and looked up – straight at our box. He couldn't possibly see me specifically from that distance in the dimly lit arena, but somehow, I felt his eyes find mine.
He raised his stick in a deliberate salute, and my heart practically burst through my chest.
"That,"Trixie said with satisfaction, "was for you."
The game ended tied 1-1, sending it to overtime. Before the extra period could start, Coach Sully called the team to the bench for a quick strategy session.
When overtime began, Logan, Zayne, and Pietro took their usual positions for the opening face-off. But as they skated to center ice, Sully called Pietro back and sent Cam out instead.
"That's different," Shayna noted. "Bold move by Sully."
"Or maybe he just knows something we don't," Trixie said with a knowing smile.
Three-on-three overtime was always heart-stopping – wide open ice, end-to-end rushes, incredible scoring chances. Both teams had golden opportunities in the first minute: a breakaway for Boston that Fosse somehow stopped with his toe; a two-on-one for the Slashers that ended with Logan hitting the post.
Two minutes in, Boston got caught on a bad line change. Logan pounced on the loose puck and flew up the right wing with Cam on his left and Zayne trailing. The lone Boston defender backed up, trying to take away the pass to Cam while still challenging Logan.
Logan slowed just enough to draw the defender toward him, then slid the puck across to Cam. The Boston goalie pushed hard to his right, anticipating Cam's shot – but instead of shooting, Cam immediately sent the puck back across the crease to Zayne, who had continued his rush and was now wide open on the right side.
Zayne buried it in the empty net before the goalie could recover.
Game over. Slashers win.
The celebration was instant and euphoric. Zayne was swarmed by his teammates, disappearing under a pile of blue jerseys. When they finally let him up, the first thing he did was point to Cam, acknowledging the perfect pass that had made the goal possible.
Cam nodded back, then once again turned to look up at our box – this time raising both arms in triumph.
"I think that's his way of saying 'I see you,'" Coco said softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The emotions of the moment were too raw, too overwhelming. Pride in watching Cam fight back from his early struggles. Joy at seeing the team – Cam, Zayne, and Logan especially – come together for a dramatic win. Fear about what would happen next. What I would say to him. What he would say to me.
Trixie touched my arm. "We should head back to the hotel right away. The boys will be a while with media and cooldown, and it will be better if you're not here when the press starts looking for you."
I hesitated, part ofme wanting to stay, to wait for Cam, to finally face what I'd been running from. But Trixie was right – the middle of a hockey arena after my face had been plastered on the jumbotron was not the place for that conversation.
"Okay," I agreed. "Back to the hotel."
The extraction was as carefully orchestrated as our arrival had been. While most fans were still celebrating the win or filing out of the arena, we were escorted through service corridors to a loading dock where the SUVs waited. Trixie, ever the strategist, had arranged for decoy vehicles to wait at the VIP exit, drawing away the photographers.
