Page 77 of Cross the Line

Georgia and I turned and headed to leave before I realized Kylie wasn’t following. Instead, she was peering down at her phone, gnawing on her lip.

“You coming, Ky?” I asked.

“Oh, uh—” She smiled brightly. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you down there.”

I assumed it was yet another client emergency, and I was impatient to get back to our seats. We’d watched some of the game in the med bay while waiting with Bryn for the ambulance to arrive. I knew the score. It was going to be a close one.

Play had already resumed, and my heart was pounding—both from the game and residual adrenaline from Bryn’s labor and delivery. I sent all my positive energy to the ice, where the game was still tied. I’d already removed my jacket, and I’d been tempted to twist up my hair. It might be cold in the arena, but the Hawks were on fire. I’d never felt more invested in the outcome of a game.

“Come on!” I clutched my beer, some of it spilling over the edge of the cup and onto my skin. I shook out my hand, unwilling to take my eyes off the ice. “Come on!”

I wanted the Hawks to win. I wanted my friends to win. But I especially wanted Carson to win.

Adrenaline, excitement, and pride coursed through me as he flew across the ice. All season, we’d worked together to improve our skills. We’d shared advice, tweaked our tactics, and it had paid off. I knew he’d played a big role in my success, just as I knew that he was grateful for all my support.

I glanced at the clock, setting my beer in the cupholder so I wouldn’t spill even more. Only a few minutes left.

After the face-off, Holden gained possession. He raced down the ice toward the opposing team’s goal, looking for an opportunity to take a shot. Yes. Yes. Yes. It took him a few minutes to find a path to the goal, but then he found an opening and took a chance.

Georgia grabbed my hand, and I held my breath. We clutched each other, knowing this could be it. We might be witnessing history.

For a minute, I wasn’t sure if the puck had actually gone in. But then the buzzer sounded, announcing that he’d scored. The arena erupted, and I felt as if I might be able to fly. Georgia and I hugged each other, both of us smiling and laughing and jumping up and down. I couldn’t help it, a few tears leaked out. The win felt even more meaningful after everything the team had been through the last few years.

Electric-blue confetti rained down over the ice, and the fans went nuts, tossing Easter eggs onto the rink. It had become a bit of a tradition, usually to celebrate a shutout game, though I supposed an exception could be made for winning the Stanley Cup.

Many of them were plastic eggs like you’d find in an Easter basket, but some were elaborately decorated. Carson had told me the maintenance staff frequently discovered items hidden inside the eggs. Often it was a name and a phone number, but sometimes it was candy or even a mini canvas painted with one of the players’ likenesses. He’d even posted some of them on social media, giving shout-outs to Hawks fans.

I laughed, taking it all in. The joy, the rush, the celebration. When I searched for Carson on the ice, it was difficult to find him. All the Hawks were huddled together, gloves and gear strewn across the ice, a celebration.

“I can’t believe they did it,” Georgia said. “They actually did it!”

I stared at the ice, still in disbelief as a tear trickled down my cheek. “What a night.”

My emotions were all over the place, but that was no surprise, considering everything that had happened. There’d been the buildup to the game itself and my emotional conversation with Georgia. I’d been stunned and afraid for Bryn when she’d gone into labor, anxious while waiting for the baby to be born, hoping Frasier would get to be present. And the relief I’d felt when Frasier had arrived, followed by the elation and gratitude when Morgan’s cry had rung out.

It was a lot. And that was on top of everything I was feeling now—pride, excitement, awe.

“Daniel is going to be so happy.” Georgia smiled, but then her expression wobbled. “Come on.” She tugged on my hand.

Some of the fans from the opposing team remained seated, staring ahead with shell-shocked expressions. I felt for them. I knew what it was like to root for your team all season, only to have them lose. But that’s how it went in sports. Sometimes you lost and sometimes you won, and those losses made you a better player.

Arena staff rolled black carpets out onto the ice, and a stand had been moved into place. I craned my neck for a sight of the Cup. I didn’t want to miss the presentation, but Georgia was on a mission.

“Where are we going?” I practically tripped over her as she guided me down a hallway.

“Down to the ice.” She led me to a tunnel, where she flashed her badge to a security guard who greeted her with a smile.

Was she joking? Surely she was kidding?

It would be a dream come true—celebrating a Stanley Cup win on the ice with my hometown team. Past me, the kid who had fallen in love with the sport, who’d cheered for this team for all these years, was freaking out. Present me was excited to celebrate my friends and their victory and still couldn’t believe this was her life.

“Good evening, Ted.”

“Evening, Miss Georgia.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “No family on the ice until after the official presentation and team picture.”

“Got it,” Georgia said, the air growing even cooler as we approached the entrance to the rink.

“Georgia,” I said, keeping my voice low since we were now surrounded by other people—most of them wives and partners, children, of the players. Not…whatever I was to Carson. They were all there, wearing the jersey of the one they loved, everyone buzzing with excitement and anticipation. This wasn’t… I didn’t… “I can’t go on the ice with you.”