Page 128 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
Carson catches it in full stride.
He’s gone.
Breakaway.
The Ironbacks scramble, their defense trying to catch him, but Carson’s already ahead, cutting in on Whitaker, faking a forehand shot before pulling the puck backhand…
He buries it.
Goal.
3–4.
The crowd explodes, and Carson skates straight toward me, smacking my helmet. “Blake! That was perfect.”
I tap my stick against the ice, grinning beneath my mask.
The momentum has shifted. You can feel it. We’re faster, sharper, pushing harder. The Ironbacks? They looked rattled for the first time since the game started.
They try to respond quickly, storming into our zone. A winger cuts inside - poke-check, puck out of danger. They play tight. #15, Edmond rushes in, gets loose, makes his way inside, fires a shot.
Blocked. Saved. The rebound kicked to the corner.
Logan wins a board battle, chips the puck up to Nate, who dangles past a defender and snipes one top corner to Riley who finds an opening and rips a shot through traffic—goal.
Yes… 4-4. Equalized.
One more to end this.
The arena is shaking. The Ironbacks are scrambling, pushing forward as we push back. Three minutes left, and the Ironbacks pull Whitaker. It’s now six against five…
Seriously, all the teams we’ve played against have done this.
It’s chaos. A race against time. A race to win.
The Ironbacks come at me immediately. One-timer - glove save. A wrister from the circle - I kick it away. A messy rebound - I dive, smothering it.
A loose puck rolls behind my net. I race out, stop it clean, scan the ice…
Logan is streaking up the ice past a defender, cuts inside, sends it to Thomas, then Liam—
GOAL.
We win.
5-4.
The horn sounds.
Victory. The Avalanche are moving on. We are moving on to the finals.
Helmets fly. Gloves hit the ice. My teammates swarm me, pounding my helmet, and yelling in my ear. The crowd is losing their minds.
But my mind?
It’s on her.
And I can’t wait to see her.
