Page 134 of False Play
I couldn’t help but smile as a spike of excitement shot through me. The guys had given their blood, sweat, and tears during the playoffs, and now they were battling it out against the Florida Bay Kings in the finals. Tomorrow could bethenight we—they—brought the Cup home. And I couldn’t be more excited about it.
* Freckles.
THIRTY-NINE
HENRY
HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY?
The United Center was vibrating.
That was the only way I could describe it. Every inch of the arena pulsed, like the building itself had a heartbeat synced to the crowd’s.
I didn’t think I’d ever been so nervous. Not even chewing my mouthguard helped calm my nerves.
My heart was practically skating laps in my chest, but my eyes stayed locked on the game as I watched and calculated every move. The ice was a blur of motion. The air crackled with every shot on goal. And the sound…Christ, the sound was deafening. It swallowed everything whole, from the scratch of blades to the refs’ whistles, until all I could feel was noise in my bones.
The score was 2–2. Third period. Game 6. Barely any time left on the clock.
If we won tonight, it was over. We’d clinch the Cup right here, in front of our home crowd. We were so close, I could practically taste it.
Igripped my stick like my life depended on it as I saw Morgan bark an order to Parker and they both skated back on the ice after a change.
My eyes quickly flicked to the clock then to the ice. The Bay Kings were pushing hard. One bad bounce and we were looking at overtime.
And we couldn’t fucking afford that.
I jumped over the boards in sync with Donovan and Hayes, our skates slicing into the ice. Morgan read the moment perfectly, backing off the pressure just enough to receive a pass from Parker, who had just stopped a big play near our goal.
Morgan absorbed the puck on his shin pad, barely flinching, then corralled it and sent a laser up the boards to where Parker was skating toward, who caught it clean and wasted zero time snapping it forward.
Donovan easily caught it and had already taken off to the right wing, skating past the neutral zone like he had a rocket strapped to his back. Hayes peeled wide left to draw coverage with him. I cut through the center ice, skating full throttle.
Every bone in my body burned. I was exhausted, but I kept my strides long and purposeful. Donovan looked up, and as soon as he spotted me, he sent the puck my way. It flew across the ice and hit my stick with a crispclack.
The world around me slowed.
I could feel it in my bones. This wasit. This was the shot that was going to seal our fate.
When my lungs expanded in an exhale, I went for it.
And as I released my breath, I saw everything play out in slow motion.
The goalie dropped and reached with his quick reflexes, but the puck was faster. Officially putting the scoreboard 3–2.
My knees nearly buckled as the horn blasted and the arenaexploded in cheers, to the point where it felt like the place was going to crumble at any minute.
The rest of the team jumped the boards, and sticks and gloves went flying into the air as everyone was jumping and screaming around me. I was in shock. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
Hayes jumped and hugged me. “We fucking did it! We’re champions, baby!” he screamed from the top of his lungs.
Holy…fuck.
We did it.
We actually did it.
I hugged Hayes back with a loud laugh, but like an invisible string had pulled me, I turned, searching for Kennedy.
