Page 86 of Chasing The Goal
My stomach dipped.
“Same day as the appointment,” I said.
He blew out a slow breath. “I’ll talk to Eliza. Maybe I can fly out after your appointment.”
I grabbed his hand. “No. Don’t. You can't miss, it’s playoffs.” as selfishly as I wanted him to come with me, the team needed him and Logan on the line together more.
His jaw flexed. “You shouldn’t have to go alone.”
I shook my head. “It’s one appointment. It’s okay.”
He went quiet, thinking. Then—“What if Ava went with you?”
I blinked. “Ava?”
“She’d want to. She’s been checking in constantly. You’d have someone there with you. I’d feel better.”
I stared at him, surprised by the suggestion, but the longer I thought about it, the more it made sense. Ava had become one of the people I trusted, almost without realizing it. She knew when to talk, when to just sit with me, and she never made me feel like I was a burden.
“That’s actually a really good idea,” I said, pulling out my phone.
I sent the text before I could overthink it:
Any chance you’re free next Thursday afternoon? I’ve got a doc appointment and the guys have game one of the playoffs that same afternoon
The response came thirty seconds later.
Ava:
Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
You're the best! Seriously thank you!
I showed Jaymie the screen. He smiled, eyes soft. “Told you.”
And I believed him. For maybe the first time in my life, I really believed someone would catch me if I fell.
Jaymie
The first round ofplayoffs hit like a goddamn freight train. Two games away then two at home, that's all I had to focus on besides the game itself. Everything was louder. Sharper. The boards felt harder, the ice faster, and every second was its own war. The Tennessee Thunder came in swinging. But so did we.
From the first shift, I could feel it—how locked in we were. Me, Connor, Logan, Darren. Every line was clicking, every zone entry smooth. We hunted the puck like it owed us money.
Midway through the first period of Game One, I caught a rebound off the boards and fed it straight to Connor, who was already skating into the high slot like he’d read my mind. He one-timed it low glove side.
Back of the net.
The roar was instant, deafening. Our bench exploded. I skated into the huddle, gloves slapping helmets, and Connor yelling, “Let’s go!”
We didn’t let up.
By the end of the second period, I’d picked up two assists and a greasy wraparound goal that snuck under the goalie’s pad by pure stubbornness. Logan and Darren were animals on the forecheck. We swarmed them in the neutral zone, forced turnovers, suffocated every rush.
Final score: 4–1.
We walked off the ice grinning, bruised, and already hungry for more.
Mallory texted me right after the game ended.
