Page 98 of Of Pucking Course

Chicago has been playing like animals. No surprise there. I knew they’d bring a hell of a fight. This is the playoffs after all, and at the end of this series, only one of us will move on to the next round. They want it just as bad as we do, so they’re playing rough and scrappy.

Both Xander and Del have been in the penalty box for getting into fights with Timberwolves players. I got into a scuffle with one of their defensemen a few minutes ago, but we just shoved each other before the linesman yelled at us, so we stopped.

I’m down to fight if necessary, but I’d rather save my energy to go after my opponents so we have a chance at winning this first game.

The winger I’m covering is headed for our net. I look ahead and see Blomdahl holding his position, tracking the puck.

My legs burn as I go after the Timberwolves player, buthe’s a half-second faster than me. One of their defenseman shoves me, and I go skidding to the side.

I turn around and look right as the Timberwolves player closes in on Blomdahl. He moves like he’s going to shoot, but at the last second, he drops the puck back to the defenseman behind him, the one who shoved me.

Blomdahl dives and scrambles to get back on his feet when he realizes what just happened.

Adrenaline slams through me. I clear the space to the defensemen in what feels like less than a second, and I check him right before he can shoot the puck into our net.

The home crowd lets out a collective sigh of relief. I swipe the puck and take off toward the other end of the ice. My leg muscles are screaming at me as I pump faster and faster to the Timberwolves net.

I look around for one of my teammates to pass the puck to, but no one is in a good position. As I close in on Chicago’s goalie, I tense up. It’s up to me. I need to take this shot.

My focus sharpens. I don’t second-guess myself. I don’t even think. I just shoot.

The puck sails just above the goalie’s glove and lands at the back of the net. The arena explodes as the buzzer goes off.

I pump my fist in the air as my teammates crowd around me to celebrate.

“That’s how you fucking do it!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Nasty fucking goal, man!”

My entire body is buzzing, my heart is racing, I’m breathing hard, and I’m grinning so wide, my face is sore. I scored my first goal in my first-ever playoffs. Holy shit, this feels amazing.

The entire Bashers bench is on their feet cheering, evenCoach Porter. Pride bursts through me at how he’s broken his usual cool and calm demeanor for me.

The one person who isn’t celebrating is the equipment manager, Will. He stands off to the side, frowning. Whatever. Nothing seems to make that guy happy.

I glance over to Dakota. She’s on her feet, that gorgeous, giddy smile of hers on display.

My heart thuds harder in my chest seeing her. For a fleeting second, I picture her wearing my jersey as she stands in the crowd, cheering for me.

Heat flashes through me. As a hockey player, there’s nothing hotter than seeing the woman you’re into wear your jersey. I’d give anything to see Dakota wear mine.

But then I catch myself. I shouldn’t be picturing Dakota wearing my jersey. She’s not my girlfriend.

I just scored my first playoff goal. Focus on that. And focus on doing whatever it takes to win this game.

And for the rest of the game, that’s exactly what I do. When we win against Chicago, I’m thrilled. But deep down, I know I’d be even happier if Dakota were wearing my jersey.

Chapter 35

Dakota

“Cheers to the Bashers for winning their first playoff game!” Ingrid says as she holds up a glass of prosecco.

Bella, Maya, and I tap our glasses against Ingrid’s drink while sitting at our usual table at Spanky’s.

“You think the guys will be mad that we’re toasting without them?” Bella asks before sipping her drink.

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