Page 62 of Barn Burner
26
7 Months Later - June
Jesse
“This is so fucking cool,” Cooper says beside me. He’s almost bouncing in his seat with excitement as he looks over the railing at the arena, which is quickly filling up.
Because this is it. The Bobcats just have to win tonight’s game, and they’ll be crowned Stanley Cup Champions.
I would say I can’t believe that the Bobcats have made it to the Stanley Cup Finals, but I’m not surprised in the slightest. Seeing the hard work they put in, Brayden especially… they deserve this. The blood, sweat, and tears—because, fuck, seeing Brayden cry causes me more pain than falling off the roof did—have all been for this moment, and I’ve been in a state of suspense all day. I want this for Brayden more than I want anything, aside from him, of course.
“Hi, Jesse.” Greta smiles, easing herself into the seat next to me. She’s six months pregnant and glowing. We’ve become friends since November, and whenever I come to Brayden’s games, she keeps me company. Company, as in she talks at me, and I listen.
“Hey, Greta. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Stressed.” She laughs, then turns her attention to the bowl. There are two minutes until it all starts. “I just want this so bad, you know?”
I nod, understanding. “Yeah, me too.”
It’s been nice having someone who understands it. Brayden’s and my relationship requires work from both of us because there are times where we don’t see each other for weeks on end. During the winter months, I helped with the cattle, then from April, the trail rides started up again. He’s on the road, sometimes for weeks at a time. But in a way, I think the separation makes us stronger.
I love him with my entire being, and seeing him soar in his career has me bursting with pride.
The arena goes dark, and the crowd erupts as the intro video plays on the jumbotron. A reel of the season highlights, a majority of them being goals scored by Brayden. His bright smile fills the screen, along with his goal celebration that never fails to make me laugh.
He ended the regular season as the top goal scorer, so there’s going to be another award to add to his name.
I’m so fucking proud of him, and when we spoke in February about what his future looked like playing professional hockey, I reassured him that I would support him, no matter what. Then he sat me down and showed me his income, and I nearly fell off my seat. I figured he was on an amazing salary, but nothing could have prepared me for the number of zeros. But after we discussed different options and scenarios, we decided that he should work to renew his contract with the Bobcats for another three years, once the two years that are left on his current contract expire. This would mean he would retire around his thirtieth birthday, and he would have enough money in the bank for both of his parents to retire and live comfortably, along with setting us up—and the ranch—for life.
Because what’s another six years when we have the rest of our lives ahead of us?
We all stand for the national anthems, and when I retake my seat, my knee bounces. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as the arena chants, “Let’s go Bobcats!”
Brayden goes through his usual sequence: skating behind the goal, crouch, shimmy, then lines up for the face-off.
Washington hasn’t made it easy for the Bobcats. Three of the first four games have gone to overtime, and Brayden scored the game-winning goal in two of them.
Brayden wins the face-off, and within the first minute, it’s physical. Players are slamming each other into the boards and playing aggressively. But luckily for my heart rate, Brayden misses all the hits.
The Bobcats are working hard in the offensive zone, keeping the puck moving between them as they create a scoring opportunity. Petrov takes a shot on the net. It bounces off the goalie’s pads, but Brayden’s right there, capitalizing on the rebound, and slips the puck past the goalie’s far side.
I’m on my feet in an instant, clapping so hard my palms sting as the arena goes wild around me. My eyes stay glued on him as his teammates huddle around him and slap his back. Tears are already pricking the back of my eyes, and we’re only five minutes into the first period.
“Holy shit!” Rhett shouts over the deafening crowd. “I know I say this every single time, but he’s incredible.”
I nod, facing aching from my wide smile. “He’s magnificent.”
The rest of the first period goes scoreless despite both teams taking several scoring chances, but then with forty-three seconds left, one of the Bobcats’ defensive players snaps up a loose puck in the neutral zone, and Petrov is right there with him as they cross the blue line. The puck lands on his stick, and he sends it flying into the back of the net.
Greta throws her arms up in the air, screaming at the top of her lungs before launching herself into my arms.
“Oh my God! Jesse! Oh my God!” is all she manages to say.
The puck is constantly on the move in the second period, but Washington is unable to close the gap on the scoreboard, and the Bobcats try hard to increase their lead but none of their attempts stick. But a minute into the third period, David redirects the puck in the neutral zone, then Brayden’s on a breakaway. I lean forward, hand covering my mouth as Washington’s defense tries to stop him, but he’s too fast. He does some magical spin move around the opposing player, then just as he reaches the goal crease, the puck travels through the goalie’s legs, and the lamp lights up.
It’s 3-0 to the Bobcats, and my heart is in my throat.
With three minutes left, Washington pulls their goaltender for an extra attacker, but it’s not enough to stop Brayden. The play moves from the Bobcats’ defensive zone, and as Brayden reaches the blue line, he takes a shot, and the puck sails into the empty net.
