Page 75 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
The next few minutes are a blur of hits, quick passes, and the relentless pounding of my heart. The Titans are pushing back hard, trying to claw their way through our defense. I am on edge, watching every play, every shift, knowing that one slip-up could turn the tide.
I feel the pressure mounting as the seconds tick away. The Titans are pressing us hard, their forwards circling like wolves. My legs burn from the effort, and my lungs scream for air, but I push it all aside. I block a shot from one of their forwards, sending it up the ice to Tomas. They clear it, but only for a moment. The Titans are relentless, cornering him, and with a slight opening and a smooth flick, he sends the puck flying into the net.
5-3.
Then, the final buzzer sounds. The game is over.
We have won.
The Avalanche has beaten the Titans in a tough game - finally, and everyone is buzzing with excitement. The team is celebrating - high-fives, cheers, and loud shouts of joy fill the air.
I let out a deep breath, feeling the weight of the game lift off my shoulders. It is a good feeling - this win was huge for us. But by the time I get to the locker room, it is filled with hoo-hahs and hoorays. It is chaotic. Guys are shouting over each other, talking about their best plays, joking around, and congratulating one another.
I spot Coach talking to Azul by the side, and I can tell it’s a serious conversation. After a few moments, the Coach calls the team to quiet down. “Alright, enough,” he says. “Congratulations guys. Good job out there.”
“Oh,” I say, “we’ve got dinner tonight. A celebratory one for the team. The photographers are invited. We are making this a night to remember.”
The guys cheer, and I turn to look at the coach. “You coming?”
“Nah, I will pass. I have got to go keep Margaret company. Have fun, but not too much fun,” he says, patting my shoulder. “And good job out there.”
With that he leaves. I leave the locker room shortly after with a couple of the guys, scanning the hallway, I spot her with the rest of the photography team. When we get to where they stood, Landon is the first to congratulate us before the rest of the ladies. Meanwhile, my eyes are on Hazel. Since the kiss we had two nights ago, we have not been able to see each other, or talk, as if there’s anything to talk about. I left the guesthouse an hour after she fell asleep.
“Congrats on the game,” she says, her voice soft, “you were great.”
Before I can say anything else, someone calls her name, and she steps away, offering me a quick smile.
I watch her walk off, then say to the rest of her gang, “See you at the restaurant, right? The location will be sent to your phone.”
Then I nod and I leave.
****
The restaurant is cozy with lighting that sets the mood exactly right, giving off a relaxed vibe. The team is still buzzing with excitement as the dinner is in full swing. But then, just as the evening starts to fall into a comfortable rhythm, the door opens, and in walks my parents.
I freeze.
What are they doing here?
“Mom, Dad?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? How did you guys know I would be here?”
“Liam, sweetheart!” My mom says with a smile. “We ran into Coach Mark on our way home. He told us about the celebratory dinner. We were in the area and figured we should come by and congratulate you. We are so proud of you, son,” she says, wrapping her arms around me for a hug.
“By we, I just say you figured…,” my dad says by the side.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, forcing a smile. The last thing I need is to deal with my parents right now, especially my mom.
She kisses my cheek, and I smile just as a camera flashes. Then, without warning, she pulls back and says, “Excuse me,” before walking off. I watch her go, confused.
I turn to my dad. “What’s going on?”
He gives me a pointed look. “Don’t look at me like that. I am still questioning how she forced me to take her to her appointment today and why we came here today.”
I roll my eyes, not wanting to get into it. But as I glance around the room, my eyes lock on the scene that makes my stomach churn. My mom is talking to Hazel - well, more like lecturing her. Hazel’s face is calm, but her eyes are anything but. There is an unmistakable flicker of irritation in them, her lips pressed tight, trying to hold it together. Meanwhile, my mom is going off, her hands moving up and down, gesturing wildly as she talks, her fingers pointing at Hazel in a way that feels..., condescending. I can feel the tension from across the room.
I feel my chest tighten as I watch, the last remnants of a good mood slipping away. My heart sinks. What is she doing?
Before I can make a move to intervene, I see Hazel stand up, say something to my mum, grab her bag, and walk off. She does not even glance back. She just walks away, each step carrying the weight of a hundred unspoken words.
