Page 60 of The Parent Playbook
“Make it count,” I repeat, nodding my head. “Time to win it!”
“That’s my man!” she screams, and for now I’m going to let myself believe it.
MacFarland is getting back on the ice. His lady in the stands is cheering him on. Jacks better look out.
Everything else disappears as I snap my helmet into place. As I leap over the boards, the reality of it hits me, but it’s the surge of the crowd that really fills my lungs.
Angel’s kiss still lingers, like a burning courage on my lips. The feel of her sends me forward, skating toward my position with a clarity sharpened by years of instinct. My gaze sweeps the ice—positions, movements, possibilities all registering in rapid succession.
“MacFarland, let’s see some magic!” Doug’s voice crackles.
I nod, already circling, feeling the old thrill of the hunt as I watch the puck zip across the slick surface. The Jacks are strong, their hotshot weaving through our defense. My focus narrows, and everything slows. It’s just me, the puck, and the play unfolding.
I position myself near the blue line, ready to intercept.
The moment comes—a loose puck, an error on their part. I’m on it, my stick an extension of my arm, pulling the puck back into our control.
“MacFarland, left wing, to Dan!” Noah’s voice reaches me as he comes up my right.
With a deft maneuver, I dodge a charging Jack, feeling the old prowess flare as muscle memory kicks in. The ice beneath me is a dance floor, and I’m sidestepping, twirling, keeping my balance and focus. The Jacks press in, but I’m already ahead, seeing the play before it happens.
The pass needs to be perfect. I draw two defenders toward me, creating the gap I know Dan can exploit. With a flick of my wrist, I send the puck spinning across the ice to him, a clean, slicing pass that cuts through the tension like a blade.
Time seems to suspend as the pucks slides to Dan.
He doesn’t hesitate—the shot is swift, a high shot that ends with the thunderclap of the puck slamming into the back of the net.
“GOAL!”
The crowd explodes, a wave of noise and color as the scoreboard blinks the new reality: 3–2, Ice Breakers.
My teammates rush me, a blur of jerseys and shouts, but my eyes find Angel in the stands. Her face is lit up, her pride and delight evident as she cheers her head off.
CHAPTER 25
ANGEL
The rink is a riot, everyone’s on their feet, screaming for Dan #29, the golden boy who clinched the game. As the crowd’s fervor pitches higher, my heart races for different reasons. Not because the Ice Breakers won, and not because this means the dream of Happy Horizons is coming to be—though I’m going to faint over that later.
Even with everything happening around us, I feel like we’re in a bubble.
Scotty’s on the ice, swarmed by his team, their hands clapping his back, hugs as they ruffle his hair, their shouts echoing around us, but his eyes are locked on mine.
I’m cheering too, hands in the air, acting every bit the thrilled spectator. But inside? Inside, I’m a mess of knots because Scotty is looking at me like I’m the only fan in the stand that matters, and it’s undoing me.
I hate being undone, even more so by a man I can’t have. That kiss might have been intended to inspire him to do great things on the ice, but every ounce of it was true for me. Sure, he’s leaving. But maybe this doesn’t have to end before it begins.
“Scotty’s back!” someone near me shouts, and yeah, Scotty MacFarland is definitely back.
“Way to save the day, MacFarland!” someone else yells.
The din of the crowd is like a backdrop to a movie scene as Scotty skates through the throngs of people to reach where I’m standing against the boards. His approach sets off something wild inside me; my pulse races, like I’m the protagonist in some epic sports movie, but instead of dodging opponents on the ice, I’m navigating a crush that’s spiraling way out of control.
“I told you so,” I say as he stops in front of me. Inside, I’m cursing myself for sounding so cheeky when I’m actually a mess of nerves.
Scotty just laughs. “Guess I owe you a pizza, huh? With all the toppings of wisdom you serve,” he shoots back, the silly grin on his face making him even more endearing.
I could swear that the noise around us dims. We’re locked in a gaze that feels as intense as a thunderstorm about to break.
