Page 110 of Payback On The Ice

"I love you," I say. "I decide you. Okay? I decide you."

I kiss him.

It's the loudest sound I've ever heard.

I've heard eight thousand people scream for a goal. This is louder. It's like the building's coming down. It's like the whole roof's lifting off. I can feel it in the ice under my knees.

I don't care. I'm kissing him. He's kissing me back, his hands on my face, his mask knocked sideways off his head and clattering away across the ice, and I'm laughing into his mouth, and he's laughing, and we're both crying.

Somewhere behind us, I hear Gunnar yell, "Oh, come ON!" and somebody else, I think Jace, yell, "I KNEW IT," and then the whole team is on top of us. All of them. Two dozen guys in a pile on center ice, on top of two idiots on their knees on the painted lantern.

Somewhere under all of it, Dane's got my hand. He's holding on.

When they finally let us up, I look over at the glass.

Nico's got both arms around my mom. They're both crying. Priya's filming the whole thing on her phone. Wes is on his knees at the blue line with his helmet off, sobbing openly, and Petey's patting his back.

And across the ice, by the Harrow bench, Marrack is standing alone with his arms crossed. His players have gone to the handshake line without him. Cole. Mikey. All of them, lined up at the red line, waiting for us. Not looking back.

I look at Marrack. He looks at me.

Then I turn around, and take Dane's hand, and we skate to the handshake line together.

30

DANE

The room is a disaster.

Somebody's found a case of sparkling cider that Doug was hiding in the equipment cage for exactly this, and it's everywhere. On the floor. On the ceiling. In my hair. Gunnar's standing on the bench in the middle of the room in his jock and nothing else, pouring cider over Petey's head, and Petey's screaming. The conference trophy's on the floor in the middle of it all, with a hockey sock stuffed in it.

Nobody's said anything to me about center ice.

That's not true. Everybody's said something. But nobody's said anything about it. Jace hugged me and said "Finally," like he'd been waiting on a bus. Okoye shook my hand and said, "That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen a goalie do," and then hugged me too. Kasper came out of nowhere and said "I knew in December," and went back to his phone. Gunnar sprayed cider directly in my face and said, "You owe me twenty bucks, I had you two down for November."

Wes hasn't stopped crying. He's on the floor in front of his stall with his skates still on, and every time somebody looks at him, he starts up again.

Theo's in his stall at the end. In the one with the brass nameplate. He's still in his gear, with his helmet off and cider in his hair, laughing at something Petey's saying, and every thirty seconds, he looks across the room at me.

I look back every time.

Halvorsen comes in with his phone in his hand.

He climbs up on the bench next to Gunnar, in his good suit, and the room goes quiet. Even Gunnar. Even Wes.

"I just got off the phone with the commissioner," he says. "Harrow's athletic director put Ray Marrack on administrative leave twenty minutes ago. Pending a full investigation."

The room goes up again.

Halvorsen waits it out. When it's quiet, he looks down at Theo.

"And Theo," he says. "The AD also said that every Harrow player who gave a statement this week has had their scholarship guaranteed through graduation. In writing. Every single one." He pauses. "Including Brandt."

Theo stops laughing.

Then he puts his face in his hands.

Wes, from the floor, starts crying again.