Page 151 of Wild Card 13

The reporter’s expression shifted slightly. Like I had given her a better answer than she expected. “What does it mean to win this with your whole family here tonight?”

My eyes moved to the gaggle behind the railing. All of them. “It means everything,” I said, quieter than before. “They show up. Always. That’s just what my family does.”

The reporter asked one more question about state, one about scouts that I dodged so hard Coach’s mouth twitched again, and then she thanked me while the camera light clicked off.

Mase appeared immediately and slung an arm around my neck. “Nice interview, celebrity.”

Simon shoved into us from the other side, still smiling like his face hurt. “We’re going to state.”

I looked at him. Then at Mase. Then at the guys pouring into the hallway around us, helmets off, faces flushed, eyes wild with a joy none of us knew how to carry yet. “We’re going to state,” I said.

Mase’s arm tightened around my neck until I could not breathe. “Emotional moment,” he announced.

“I will kill you.”

Coach’s voice cut through the hallway. “Burns.”

He stood near the entrance to a quieter side corridor with two men beside him. One wore the Fargo jacket. The other wore the St. Croix State crest stitched over his heart. Dad was already with them. So was Thane.

The hallway seemed to lengthen between us. Every step felt wrong and good at the same time.

I had just won the biggest game of my life. My teammates were screaming behind me. My family was ten yards away. Lucy was close enough that I could still feel her attention like a hand against my back.

And I was walking toward men who wanted to talk about what came next.

Coach introduced me to the Fargo scout first. Dan Mercer.

Firm handshake. Gray at his temples. Calm eyes. He looked like he had seen a thousand kids have big nights and was trying to decide which ones would survive after the lights turned off.

“Hell of a game, Ty.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Four points in a section final gets people’s attention.”

I tried not to grin like an idiot.

“But the shorthanded goal is what I’ll remember,” Mercer said. “Not because you scored. Because you read the play before it happened.”

The St. Croix State scout shook my hand next. Mark Ellison.

He had watched me before, though we had only spoken briefly after one regular-season game when I had still been sweaty and too cocky to understand how many doors one conversation could represent.

“Good to see you again,” he said.

“You too.”

He smiled faintly. “You looked more complete tonight.”

I was not sure whether that was a compliment. From the way Coach’s face stayed neutral, I figured it probably was.

Mercer tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. “We’d like to sit down with you and your family after the season. Formal conversation. Spring evaluation camp.”

“Fargo?” I asked.

Mercer nodded. “You’re the kind of player we track closely for Phase II.”

May draft. Junior hockey. Leaving after graduation if a team wanted you badly enough and the fit was right.