Page 38 of Hitting the Goal Line
I want to say something else, but the second that I take a good look at the building in front of me, all thoughts of responding to Liam go out the window.
Fuck.
It all just became more real.
I take a second to admire the arena, but then follow the guys in when a security guard named Gus, opens the door for us. Me and the other guy that was drafted by the team, are left in awe as the group of guys that took us to dinner, show us around and give us a little history lesson on the place.
They take us everywhere, eventually ending up in the locker room.
It’s one thing seeing all of this on a tv screen, or in pictures, but seeing it in person is fucking mind blowing.
For a second, I start to think that I shouldn’t be here, that maybe I’m not meant for all of this, but then I see it.
In the locker room, the guys have a surprise set up for us. A surprise that includes a section for both of us, both of our lastnames at the top, merch laid out in front and a jersey with our last names on the back, hanging inside.
“Holy shit,” I say, approaching my section and grabbing the jersey.
“Hopefully, you were thinking about sticking with number ten,” Liam says, coming up next to me as I admire my jersey. My first official Dark Knights jersey.
I’m not able to respond, I just give him a nod.
I’ve been number ten since day one. No reason on changing it now. It has meaning to it. Because of my brother and because of Sophia. The fact that I think about her every time I see the number, should be a mind-twister, but it isn’t. That’s just how things have always been.
I look down at the jersey in my hands and smile.
This is it.
I fucking made it, and I’m here to fucking stay.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SOPHIA
Twenty years old
“C’mon,Jacobi! You need to learn how hit the puck into the actual goal!” I slam my hand against the armrest of my seat, feeling frustrated as Blake and the rest of the Montana State hockey team play against the University of Vermont. There are in the third period and Montana is losing by one.
My dad laughs from where he sits next to me. I’m glad one of us isn’t pissed off that our team is losing.
“Nomas es un juego, Sophia,” he tells me right before he pops a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.
It’s just a game. He’s been telling me that for years, but no matter the game, or the score, I always get a little crazy. Especially when I’m cheering Blake.
“I know,” I say, letting out a sigh. “But they’re so damn close to conference championships and Frozen Four, they can’t be screwing up right now.”
“They’ll be fine,” my dad says, bringing the popcorn back up to his mouth and sliding the remainder kernels out.
“Maybe you can do a few extra sessions with Blake,” I suggest, already pulling Blake’s schedule in my head and trying to see if he has extra time to spare.
He has time in the morning, he might be able to pull it off. I would just have to convince him to get up earlier.
It will be hard, but doable.
Besides, he likes working with my dad. He’s been doing it for years and he even told me a few weeks ago that he wanted to ask him if he would be willing to write up a workout for him, he just hasn’t had the time to ask. This is me making that happen.
My dad side-eyes me. “I don’t think he needs extra sessions.”
“He just hit a slap-shot into the glass. He definitely needs something.” I point in the direction of the ice. No doubt that shot is going to end up on social media somehow. My guess is that one of the many jersey chasers that this school has, is going to upload it by the morning.
