Page 57 of Much Ado About Hockey

Be safe, and text me when you get home.

XOXO

Will do!

XOXO

He let out a breath, short and unsatisfied like it got stuck in his throat on the way out. He wanted to give her an ‘out’ in case she needed it, a way to reassure her that it was okay if she missed the game because he still cared… and always would.

“Problems?” one of the guys chirped, elbowing him in the ribs like it was funny. Like his heart wasn’t sinking a little lowerevery time this happened. Jett didn’t even have time to respond before a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Focus, Coeur – we’re here to clean house, and I need everyone at the top of their game,” Savage barked, and his voice cracked like a whip across the tension.

Commanding.

Clear.

No room for debate.

And boy, if Jett didn’t feel pride swell up in his chest. He shoved the phone into the back of his locker, slamming it shut with finality.

Enough.

Karen wasn’t coming.

But his team was here.

His moment was here.

And he wasn’t going to let the ache of disappointment distract him from that. It was almost showtime. Grabbing his helmet, Jett strode forward, planting himself beside Savage, their captain who was finally taking a stand, and let his voice ring out.

“Fellas,” Jett started, lifting his chin and scanning the locker room. His teammates quieted, turning toward him with the kind of expectation that made something inside him snap into place. “Little Liam Savage…”

“Hey!” Savage growled, already defensive.

“Will be from now on addressed as ‘Captain Savage,’ which has a nice ring to it,” Jett continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. Then he pivoted, voice lifting with the perfect dose of arrogance and flair. “Or you can call him ‘Barcelona,’ because he is about to run roughshod over those ‘teeny boys’ out there, just like the running of the bulls in Spain…”

The locker room erupted—cheers, clapping, a few hoots and hollers echoing off the walls like thunder.

Jett didn’t stop. The momentum was too good, the fire catching just right.

“See this?” Jett said, pointing at his bruised chin and catching the subtle freeze of movement from Savage, who was clearly working hard to keep his cool. “This is what’s gonna happen to them… and we’re gonna deliver it! Tell us what you want tonight on the ice, Barcelona. We’re listening, right guys?”

“YEAAAAAH!”

Slapping Savage on the shoulder with a firm nod, Jett stepped back, letting the captain take his rightful place. There was no hesitation in Savage now—he moved forward like a general about to lead his troops into battle, barking out strategy, correcting errors, fine-tuning the approach.

Jett stood back, watching, and something in his chest shifted. Pride, yes. But also a bittersweet note of unexpected transition. There hadn’t been direction last two games, even though they had a captain. Everyone kept turning to Boucher, who wouldn’t cross Savage – but Savage wouldn’t speak up.

Well, not anymore.

This was Savage’s moment—and the team was ready to follow. Even Boucher caught his eye with a sideways glance, the kind that saidWe both know what’s happening here. Jett nodded. The torch that had been passed to Savage had finally been lit—and everyone knew it.

“All right! Let’s get out there and show them who the Wolverines are!” Savage roared, fist-pumping skyward.

The room detonated with energy. Every guy jumped to his feet, gear clattering, shouts, and whoops bouncing off the walls. It was a surge—raw, real, and uncontainable. The sound of the fans beyond the tunnel reached a frenzied pitch. Their team was coming, and they were ready.

Jett tightened his gloves, adjusted his helmet, and fell into line with the others. But even as he moved with the tide ofadrenaline, one thought stayed behind like a shadow at the back of his mind.

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