Page 98 of Lucky
The second we’re through the tunnel, it’s the best kind of pandemonium.Towels snapping, water bottles launching like confetti, and shouts echoing off the concrete walls like we’ve just won the damn Cup.
“Playoffs, baby!”Atlas bellows, pumping both fists in the air like a man possessed.
“Get this man a tattoo that saysCLUTCH!”Anders says, climbing up onto a bench like it’s a stage.“Two assists tonight.I am, officially, the regular season goal whisperer.”
“You literally passed the puck twice,” I grouse, tossing my gloves into my cubby.“Welcome to the bottom line of hockey.”
Kace is mid-TikTok dance, still in partial gear, sweat dripping down the side of his face like he’s doing hot yoga instead of celebrating a buzzer-beater win.He’s been holding fucking strong in Drake’s place and I’m proud of the kid.
“What the hell kind of dance is that?”I ask, laughing as I strip off my elbow pads.
“It’s a remix of the ‘heart attack shuffle.’”He grins, stepping wildly left and right, arms jerking like he’s being electrocuted.
Someone throws a roll of hockey tape at his chest.“You’re making us look uncool, Elliott.”
“You are uncool,” he calls back, undeterred.
Foster walks by with a smirk and mutters, “And to think this team almost folded.”
That gets quiet smiles, all around.Because he’s not wrong.
Just last season, we were scattered.Broken.A team in name, but not in spirit.And now?We’ve clawed our way back.We didn’t just survive—we rebuilt.
Together.
The door swings open and everyone looks up.
Brienne Norcross strides in, polished as ever in a fitted blazer, hair pulled back, sharp heels clicking on the tile.Right behind her is Drake, still favoring his leg a little.He’s in a bespoke navy suit, his grin wide as hell.
“Don’t stop celebrating on my account,” Brienne calls out, raising her voice above the lingering chatter.“I just wanted to pop in to say congratulations.”
She pauses and scans the room like she’s looking each of us in the eye, and it quiets down.
“No one thought this was possible a year ago.No one thought a team gutted mid-season could rebuild like this.But you did it.You put in the work.You pulled each other through it.And now you’ve earned your spot.”
The room goes still.Not quiet, exactly—just charged.Listening.
“Other teams bought their way in,” she continues.“You built your way in.And you should be proud of that.”
Atlas lets out a “Hell yeah,” and the noise threatens to boil over again, but Brienne holds up a hand.
“One more thing.”
She looks around and although it’s impossible, it feels like she’s talking to each of us individually.
“I meant what I said the day I took over this team.This isn’t just about wins.It’s about legacy.And what you’re building here, what we’re building together, is something people are starting to notice.Finish strong.Show them that the Titans are back, and we’re here to stay.”
There’s a beat of silence before the whole room erupts.Fists slam against lockers.Helmets are banged together in a half-hearted headbutt.Someone blasts music.Kace tries to do a trust fall off a bench and immediately regrets it.
Drake claps me on the shoulder as he passes.“Nice work out there.”
I nod.“Still weird not having you in net.”
“Still weird watching you be the hero,” he jokes.“But you pulled it off.”
Brienne smiles once more and turns for the door.“Celebrate smart, gentlemen.”
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?”Rafferty calls after her.
