Page 57 of Rookie's Redemption
Sheismy girl. Has been since we were seventeen. Always will be, if I have anything to say about it.
We hit the ice again and the second period is when everything changes.
We come out flying, and I'm in that zone where everything slows down and speeds up at the same time. Where I can see plays developing three moves ahead and my body moves without conscious thought.
Connor makes another impossible save. Blake delivers a hit that rattles the glass. The crowd is going absolutely insane.
And then it happens.
Logan Kane might be retired, but he's still got an eye for the game. From his place on the bench, he spots me racing up the left wing with nothing but ice ahead of me. Logan screams at Jackson, who threads a perfect pass through two defenders, the puck sliding across the ice like it's destiny.
I can see the Montreal goalie tracking my movement, trying to read which way I'm going. The defenseman is closing fast, stick reaching to break up the play.
But I'm not thinking about any of that.
I'm thinking about Mia in that gorgeous dress, watching me play for the first time since high school. I'm thinking about the fundraiser total climbing toward numbers that will change her life. I'm thinking about the tree in my backyard and the future I want to build with her.
I shift the puck to my backhand, fake the shot, wait for the goalie to commit—
And then I slide it through the five-hole like threading a needle.
GOAL.
The red light goes on.
The horn blares.
Eighteen thousand people lose their collective minds.
I spin on my skates, looking up at the VIP section where Mia is on her feet, hands pressed to her mouth, eyes wide with shock and pride and something that looks a lot like love.
I blow her a kiss.
The cameras catch it and the entire arena erupts into something that's half cheer, half celebration, half pure fucking romance.
"MIA! MIA! MIA!"the crowd starts chanting, and I watch her face turn bright red as she realizes thousands of toothless hockey fans are calling her name.
I point at the jumbotron, where the fundraiser total has jumped to$94,760.
Almost a hundred thousand dollars.For her. For the shelter. For everything she's worked so hard to build.
The guys mob me at center ice, everyone laughing and shouting and pounding my helmet. But I keep looking up at Mia, who's wiping tears from her eyes while Sophia and Lucy hug her from both sides.
This is what I've been missing for eight years. This feeling of playing for something bigger than hockey. Playing for someone who matters more than any contract or trophy or championship.
I look to Coach Brody who just winks at me without moving an inch.
He's right.
I'm playing for love.
We score two more goals in the third period. Blake gets one on a power play that's pure captain magic. Connor gets an assistthat makes him pump his fist like he scored the Stanley Cup winner.
But the goal that matters most comes with three minutes left in the game.
Montreal pulls their goalie for an extra attacker, desperate to tie it up. The arena is on its feet, everyone screaming until their voices give out.
The puck bounces loose in our defensive zone. I scoop it up, see nothing but empty ice ahead of me, and take off.
