Page 114 of Dirty Pucking Player

On the other side of Caleb, Jill, Tara, and Bradley high-five while she juggles Ivy in her arms. Having Jill and my best friend and his family with me to see this moment is more than I could ever have hoped for. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here with Greer. I’d probably be playing in some other city and being a fucking miserable asshole.

But the fight isn’t over yet.

All we’ve done is tie the game, and there’s still plenty of time to fuck this up.

My hands itch to be holding a stick and be out on the ice with them. I miss it more than I’ll ever admit to Greer or anyone else. There are days when I’m out coaching the youth league team or just messing around on the rink and I have flashes of what could have been.

But what I told her that day was true. None of it would have meant anything. My life wouldn’t have meant anything if it weren’t with her. I could have won a dozen Stanley Cups and never been fulfilled. Seeing her succeed is greater than any success I could have had on my own.

I would have played maybe another ten years. Done untold damage to my body…and been lonely as fuck. I know I made the right decision to walk away from this game, even if every fiber of my being craves to be out on the ice.

“Let’s go, Scorpions! Let’s go.” The chant starts through the crowd until all 40,000 people are screaming in unison.

The entire arena vibrates with anticipation and energy.

Two and a half minutes—a fucking lifetime in hockey.

I glance down at Greer pacing behind the bench. She leans down and whispers something to Hayes. He nods and jumps onto the ice to replace Kasinski.

It’s a good call. He’s much better in the high-pressure, clinch situations. She needs her best shooters out there together. Where I would be if I were still playing.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

But if I were still playing, I wouldn’t have her. I reach over and take Anna from Caleb and rest her on my hip as I watch the puck drop again.

This time, the Bulldogs end up with it. My chest tightens as I watch them take it through the neutral zone and into our territory. Their sticks have been quick this entire series, and tonight is no exception.

Only our own stellar defense and an incredible game from Pierre has kept them from having even more goals. This will be one of those games they talk about for years to come.

Mac intercepts the puck and makes a break toward the Bulldog goal.

“Go! Go! Go!” My chant echoes those of the surrounding fans, and Annabelle joins right in even though she has no idea what’s on the line, can’t possibly fathom what this goal will mean.

He’s got him beat.

I played long enough with Mac to know his moves, to see what he sees even from up here in the stands.

He’s got this!

I hold my breath, and just as Mac looks left to Hayes to draw their goalie that direction, Knight cross-checks him, knocking him to the ice.

What a fucking idiot.

Now we’re going be on the power play for the final two minutes. They would’ve been better off letting us score than to give us that penalty.

Mac climbs from the ice, unshaken, and grabs his stick.

The ref skates to center ice. “Number 17—two minutes for cross-checking.”

Come on, guys.

This is our chance. This is Greer’s chance.

Don’t fucking blow it.

* * *

GREER

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