Page 96 of Of Pucking Course

I quiet the thought and do my best to focus on what’s important—tonight’s playoff game against the Chicago Timberwolves.

Coach Porter walks in along with the assistant coaches, and the music cuts.

“Gentlemen, tonight is an important night. It’s the night we set the tone for our run into the playoffs.”

We all focus on Coach Porter standing in the middle of the locker room, listening intently to everything he says.

“We’re here right now because every one of you worked your ass off. You played your hearts out this entire season,” he says. “I couldn’t be happier with the team in front of me. Every single one of you has earned your spot on this team and in these playoffs.”

He’s silent for a moment as he scans the room, letting the quiet energy around us build.

“Chicago is a tough team. Whenever we play them, they always make us work for it. But we’re on home ice tonight. It’s our turn to make them work for it. I want you to give them hell. I want them to be scared of what they’re up against when they face off against us, understand?”

“Yeah, Coach!”

We all finish gearing up and head to the tunnel.

“Let’s fucking go, boys!” Xander hollers. A second later, the chorus of “Pink Pony Club” starts blaring in the tunnel.

I crack a smile and turn to Xander. “Is this gonna be our pump-up song for the playoffs?”

He grins wide. “Fuck yeah.”

The second verse echoes in the tunnel, and Xander starts singing along and dancing. A moment later, we all start singing and dancing too.

The sound is deafening. And impressively off-key since not a single one of us is atrained singer.

Del winces as Xander’s voice cracks while attempting to hit a high note. Theo’s head falls back as he laughs while singing along.

“Let’s hear it, boys!” Xander shouts as he jumps up and down on his skates, pumping himself up.

We all sing and shout along with the chorus and dance around. Xander turns to Blomdahl, who’s at the center of our makeshift dance group. Xander smacks his stick against Blomdahl’s leg pads three times, then walks over to Theo and bumps his chest before he continues dancing.

I clock Coach Porter standing off to the side, watching Xander with an unamused expression.

“He’s gonna be your son-in-law,” our assistant coach Jason shouts to him over the music.

The faintest smile appears on Coach Porter’s face. “Yup.”

The song ends, and Blomdahl takes his place at the front of the team so he’s the first to hit the ice once we walk out.

Blomdahl licks the bottom of his stick, just like he does before every game we play. He takes the ice, the rest of us behind him. The home crowd cheers. It’s so loud we can barely hear the music playing in the arena.

Adrenaline and excitement buzz through my body as I stretch and warm up. It’s been a handful of years since I’ve played in the playoffs, not since I first started in the league. And I didn’t get to play much during the few playoff games that we lasted because I wasn’t as good as the more experienced guys on the team.

But this time is different. I’m more experienced and get a solid amount of playing time each game. As long as I don’t get hurt, I’ll get a lot of time on the ice.

That buzzing feeling inside of me turns into full-blownsparks of excitement. I catch myself smiling as I go through my warm-up routine. Part of me can’t believe it. I’m at the playoffs on a kick-ass team that has a decent shot at winning.

Nerves kick up inside of me. I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Just focus on this first game. Just focus on playing well enough to beat Chicago.

I gaze ahead and see Dakota sitting with Maya and Bella behind the Bashers net. She locks eyes with me and smiles.

All those nerves inside of me instantly fade.

I skate over to her, careful not to get in Blomdahl’s way. He’s a stickler about his warm-up routine, and I don’t want to distract him.

Dakota hops up out of her seat and walks over to the glass where I’m standing.

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