Page 75 of Her Goal
Jess says, “Sounds like he may have joined a cult.”
Cara adds, “Jess barely made it out of one in Los Angeles.”
Jess looks around and lowers her voice. “There were lizards.”
A few of us laugh nervously.
“Anyway, the better brother is back.” Cara winks.
I’m about to argue that point when Hudson saunters over and we go silent.
He says, “Sounds like I’m missing out on an important conversation.”
“Don’t you meanleft out?” I ask, thinking about my family’s insistence that we’re getting married.
But I feel his eyes on me, bringing with it the scent of evergreens and my mouth goes dry. The raucous chatter, interspersed with the caller’s voice, fades. Hudson somehow escaped Abuela’s clutches and his eyes at half-mast have no business in a church hall.
I cannot suppress the blush coloring my cheeks or the thoughts in my head about what this could mean. I tell myself that my body is confused because of my high school crush on his twin. But the noise in my head gets loud, arguing against that possibility, which can only mean one thing.
22
HUDSON
Gettingready in the locker room, Liam, our team captain, doles out what sounds like encouraging greeting card platitudes, which is not what I expect from a guy like him, then his eyes slit and the corners of his mouth lift into a grimace? No, that’s a smile.
He barks, “I had you guys for a minute there, didn’t I?”
Hesitant laughter ripples through the room.
I haven’t known Liam for long, but I’ve never seen him smile. He snaps his fingers and then points finger guns at us, laughing maniacally like a cartoon villain. “I had you all there for a second. No, go out there and crush the Empire State Kings. Give it your best shot! I believe in you! Unicorns! Fairy dust! Make ‘em bleed!”
This bizarro rally cry has us all rolling with laughter and smiling as we march out of the locker room because it was so unexpected and nonsensical. So out of character and unlike any pre-game pep talk I’ve ever heard. When we hit the ice, during the team welcome sequence where the announcer introduces us, the overall mood is upbeat. Not sure that’ll win the game, but morale is high which goes a long way.
As I skate around the rink, the lights and thunder from the crowd are so loud and distracting that I don’t see anyone I recognize in the seats, but I’m used to not having family here cheering me on.
Coach has the first string as the starting lineup, which is no surprise. Even though I’ve been practicing with the guys and learning the way they play, it’s a thing of beauty to see their cohesion during a live game.
The Knights hit the ice with new-season energy. Our captain and Jack play pass the puck as they slice up the ice. Redd is in position for an assist and then Hayden gets the shot, sending the puck into the corner of the net. Our fans cheer with rabid enthusiasm. The opposition comes back with an aggressive play, but after a few intense passes, Beau keeps the goal clear and we resume possession.
During the second period, we’re up a point and Coach slides me in front of the net. It’s like riding a bike.
Or not.
Although I try a stack block, relying on my pads, the goal gets in. There’s nothing quite like letting your team down. It’s a uniquely soul-crushing feeling of disappointment and shame. It doesn’t help that the crowd boos, telling me to go home. But they’re right. I don’t deserve to be here. Don’t belong here.
Badaszek swaps me out for Beau shortly after and the tie with the Kings is held for the remainder of the period.
Each team scores again, keeping pace into the third and my mind wanders away from the game when I spot Leah in the VIP suite. She’s on her feet, pounding the air when the Kings’ center and Jack battle it out for the puck.
During our figure skating lessons, I learned some ways to make my movements more fluid and efficient, but the real takeaway was strengthening my mental muscles. Not getting inmy head. Instead, going to a place beyond self-doubt and simply directing my attention and energy to the mechanics of the task.
I can’t stop thinking about Leah. Can’t let her down after working with me. The wedding thing is ridiculous. Her family are a bunch of comedians. I’m waiting for them to announce that it’s all a big joke.
Ha ha! It’s on me, though, because the idea of being with her is an impossibility. She’s too pretty, too smart, and too funny to want a loser who lets the puck in the net. Any time now, the Smiths are going to realize they bet on the wrong player, too.
“Roboveitchek!” Coach calls in a tone that suggests that wasn’t the first time he tried to get my attention.
“Yes, sir?”
