Page 177 of Home Game

“So Jensen lost that race.”

My head snapped up. “He was never in the race.”

Mark Ashford laughed. “I will never tire of your competitive spirit.”

“I’ll let you know.”

We stood up and shook hands.

“Good luck,” he said. “But I doubt you’ll need it.”

It wasgame seven of the Stanley Cup playoffs finals. This was it. This game would decide our fate.

Would this be a cup year? The last six games against Pittsburgh had been incredibly intense. I had no idea how tonight would turn out. The only thing I was sure of was that I’d give it my all.

Jensen walked by me and then stopped in front of me.

“Parker.”

I glanced up. “Hey.”

He winced and looked at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “I know it’s been a rough year. We haven’t been exactly aligned.”

Understatement. “Yeah.”

“But,” he paused, trying to find his words. “You’ve been a great teammate, and I’d be happy to have you stay a wolf.”

“Did Ashford put you up to that?”

He flushed. “Actually, Noah did, but I mean it.”

Noah. Fuck me. “How’s he doing?”

His face brightened. “Surprisingly well. He got accepted into medicine. He’s going to be a doctor.”

Something inside of me eased. “I never meant to hurt him like that. If I could do it over, I’d never had made that check.”

He studied me. “I know that. Noah made me watch the tapes last week. He showed me your face when they took him off the ice. You looked upset.”

That had been one of the worst moments of my life. I didn’t know what to say.

Jensen continued. “I heard Ashford offered you a contract.”

“Yeah.”

“You going to accept?”

“Haven’t decided.”

He offered me his hand. “For what it’s worth, I hope you accept.”

I stood up and shook his hand. “Thanks.”

The horn signaledthe end of the game.

We lost. In overtime.

I skated to the bench, unable to make eye contact with the rest of my team. Some guys hung their heads, hiding tears. It was the worst kind of loss to lose in the seventh game.

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