Page 97 of Penalty Box
We pulled the goalie with a minute left. One more chance. I was out there with Grayson, Tucker, and our top D pair. Forty-two seconds. We cycled the puck clean. Thirty-five. I saw the gap and took it. Grayson slid across the ice, and I let the one-timer rip.
It flew clean, hard, and perfect. I was planted on the spot, watching its trajectory with hope warming my chest.
And then it got blocked.
Painful groans fluttered through the crowd, with a few choice words of judgment flying at me like daggers. I ignored the fans, but knew I’d be seeing that defenseman’s shin pad in my nightmares.
The puck bounced off and time ran away with us. The horn blew. Panthers’ sticks, helmets, and gloves rained down around our exhausted team. We watched them mob their goalie, screaming and hugging, some of them crying.
It was over. We had gotten so far, but had come up just short.
Going down the handshake line hurt like hell. It always sucked to congratulate a win that wasn’t ours. This time especially so. We’d lost the Cup.
Back in the locker room, the mood was quiet and somber. Some of the guys slumped onto benches, Grayson just sat and stared at his hands. Our goalie probably took it the worst, especially with Hunter sitting next to him as the un-used backup, but I had nothing left in me for pep talks of any kind.
“You lost today, but you’re not losers,” Coach said as he came to stand in front of us. “You fought like champions, every one of you. And I’m damn proud of you all.”
No one moved, and he kept going.
“The Panthers didn’t win tonight because they’re better,” he said. “They won because they were luckier when it mattered most. But we’re not done.”
Somewhere across the room, someone sniffed. Shawn let out a heavy exhale, head down.
Then Grayson stood up and said, “Next year.”
“Next year,” Tucker echoed, coming to stand beside him.
Then we were all on our feet, bumping fists and hyping each other up. No fire lost, just redirected.
The door cracked open, and I turned just as Cass stepped inside. She paused, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be here, but I was already moving.
I didn’t give a damn who saw.
I crossed the floor in three long strides and pulled her into my arms while she was about to commiserate our loss. Our mouths came together in heat and hunger so strong it loosened the ache in my chest. I could breathe again.
For weeks, I’d been skating on a knife’s edge through pressure, the spotlight, and the unbearable weight of expectation. But with Cass, there was none of that. No noise, or doubt. She was my solid ground. The only thing that felt certain in a game full of rebounds and ricochets.
Losing the Cup hurt. But losing her? That would’ve destroyed me.
So I kissed her like I knew it. Like every breath left in me belonged to her.
Wolf whistles and hollers broke out, and there was even some light applause. But Cass didn’t pull away. She kissed me back like we had something to prove and all the time in the world to do it. She gave my hair a slight tug and I groaned into her mouth.
“Okay, okay,” someone called out, laughing. “Get a room.”
I broke the kiss, grinning wide. “I’m about to. Everyone out.”
A few guys snorted, and some applauded again, pointing us toward the showers.
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” I looked around and waved the guys out. “Showers are closed. Hit the bar. Go cry into your beers, or whatever. Just go.”
Tucker was the first to make a move, and grabbed his duffel. “Respect,” he said to me on his way out.
“Don’t take too long, lover boy.” Grayson clapped me on the shoulder.
But Hunter followed close behind, shaking his head vehemently. “No, long is exactly what you want to take. Keep the woman happy.”
