Page 41 of Saving Forever
“You ready?” West is our team captain and he drops down into a squat beside me as we stretch.
“I think so.”
“Crowd is loud tonight,” he murmurs.
“This will be a tough team,” I say needlessly.
“I feel like our system works,” he says. “It’s gotten us where we are. We just have to play the game we’ve played all season.”
I shake my head. “No—we must be prepared for a different game because they know our system. They have been watching since the playoffs started.”
“You sound like Coach,” he jokes. “You plan to take over for him when you retire?”
I chuckle. “Probably not. My English not so good.”
“I’d say you have a while to work on it. Besides, between Holly, Kelly, and the rest of us, we’ll get you there.”
“I think I’m going to puke,” Ashton says, coming over to join us.
“Only think about hockey,” I tell him. “Forget everything else.”
He grimaces. “My mom is here. My brothers are here—Kingston is going to sing the national anthem.” His brother Kingston is the lead singer of one of the biggest rock bands in the world—Onyx Knight—and it’s a big deal that he’s here tonight.
“Block it out,” West says. “Let your body take over.”
I look over to where Simon is taking shots in net—the starting goalie usually sits out the warm-up other than some stretching—and I try to focus on the task at hand. I glance at the glass again and then I see her.
Holly is standing with Serena, a soft smile on her face.
She’s wearing my jersey.
And then she waves. It’s discreet, a small waggle of her fingers, but I see it.
I’m propelled forward as if by magnetic force. As I get closer to the glass, Olga presses forward, grinning. But I ignore her.
I only have eyes for my wife.
“Hi,” I say softly, putting one hand flat against the glass.
“Hi.” I can’t hear her, and I’m sure she didn’t hear me, but we can read lips. And eyes. Because hers are saying a million things I’m not sure either of us could vocalize at this point. There’s something between us, no matter how hard we try to resist. It’s been brewing almost since the first time we met, when I decided saving her would also save me.
Deal or no deal, the pull between us is stronger than anything I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And no matter what I said last night, or my resolve to keep things platonic, my gut tells me we’re hurdling toward a cliff at full speed.
It’s just a matter of how long until we go over the edge.
And how hard we crash when we land.
We pull out the win 4-2 and it’s breathtaking.
New York has a great team, but tonight we were better, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Everyone in the NHL is good. Every team has a shot. It’s just a matter of being a tiny bit better than your opponent on any given night and doing it more often than anyone else.
Tonight, we made it happen.
One win down, three more to go.
We strike another box off the board we have, keeping track. It takes sixteen wins to lift the Stanley Cup, and we just won game nine.
“I want everyone to go back to the hotel and rest,” Coach Teller says when he joins us. “I’m not even kidding. If I see reports or video of any of you going out tonight, unless it’s to get food, you’ll pay me five grand. Understand?”
