Page 125 of Unraveling Rain
I can’t believe she’s not here. I can’t believe this really might be over.
She says she loves me, but if she doesn’t show up—doesn’tshow me—then what am I holding on to?
Matt’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Remember—we set the tone from game one. We show them who we are, what we’re made of, and what we want. Every puck, every pass, every shot—we fight for it. Cody’sour last line of defense, but if they’re shooting, we’ve failed. Let’s be champions starting today.”
He raises his stick in the air, and we all howl in unison. A jolt of energy courses through the team like electricity. I glance at Nico and Victor—my linemates—and we nod, clicking sticks before getting in line.
“Please welcome your Carolina Red Wolves!” the announcer booms.
The arena erupts.
Matt charges the ice first. The moment my name’s called, I push off, skating a fast lap around the rink with my stick raised high, soaking the roar of the fans.
My eyes flick toward the spectator section, the spot I saved for Rain.
Nothing.
I spot a few other WAGS there—smiling, waving—but not my favorite redhead. Not my Rain.
Fuck.
Matt skates up beside me with a shit-eating grin.
I frown. “What?”
“Did you see the sign?” he asks between sips from his water bottle.
I shake my head. “What sign?”
He smirks and skates off toward the defensemen. “Take another lap, Hotshot. Pay attention to the front rows this time.”
I pour water over my head, trying to cool down. My pulse is still racing—for all the wrong reasons.
Then I push off and start another lap.
I keep it slow, waving at a group of kids in the front row. A few call out my name, bouncing with excitement, and I flash them a grin as I glide past.
I spot Charlie and Pat—a couple who’ve had season tickets for nearly twenty years—and coast to a stop in front of them.
“Xander, so good to see you back,” Charlie says, touching the glass.
“I’m happy to be back,” I reply, meaning every word.
Pat beams. “I can’t wait to see you score tonight.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and despite everything, it makes me smile.
“I hope so. I’ve been off the ice for a long time, but I’ll try my best.”
She nods, satisfied, and I tap my stick on the boards before skating off.
I round the corner toward our bench when something catches my eye.
A sign. Bright white poster board.
Wild about #37. Let’s go, Hotshot.
