Page 96 of Hot Puck
Like they have been from the day I met them.
Chase
Game six in the last round of playoffs. Win this and we win the series—and play for the Cup.
I’m not surprised we’re here, or that we’ve dominated every series in postseason before this one. I don’t know if it’s the hunger in us to prove we’ve got what it takes to reach the finals or if the chemistry between us is just that good.
We’ve hardly made a mistake. Our games have been flawless and that says a lot about our coaches as well as us players.
Nobody wants to slack off. We’re training harder than we have all year, and we trained hard from the beginning.
All season we’ve been under the microscope. Every member of the team—the org itself—has received a lot of attention. Conversations with a Rogue have added to the usual media frenzy around a winning team.
We were dealing with it—I was comfortable with it—until it was my turn to have a conversation with Cami. When that episode aired, when I talked openly about the death of my parents and the choice I made at twenty to raise my three younger sisters, the media went stupid.
At one point I thought we might have a repeat of the craziness surrounding Whit and Bex. But thankfully, the worst we had was a couple of photographers trying to sneak pictures of the girls coming and going from school and the arena.
I’m pretty sure Gem had something to do with them stopping. She and Cami’s father, Fenton Barnes, had their heads together at the Rogues end of season party far too often for me to ignore the timing of our sort-of stalkers stopping.
I can’t lie. Playing through the anniversaries of our parents’ deaths wasn’t easy. And I had to remind myself repeatedly that I was living the life they always wanted me to live. It helped.
It helped even more when the twins decided to celebrate our parents by cooking their favorite meals and talking about good times spent together every night for the month of April.
We cried. How could we not?
We laughed. Because we’d had a great childhood with wonderful parents.
And we felt so much better than we would have because Gem, with her calm and understanding, her insightful words of wisdom, was there every step of the way.
Honestly, dancing around my attraction for my wife when I know she’s not oblivious to my appeal has been the hardest thing to deal with in the last few months.
Whatever had her pulling away back in February—and I’m fairly sure it was the locker room incident—ceased to be an issue by the end of March. A few days before the back-to-back anniversaries of our parents’ deaths, the Gem who guided me and my sisters through the first Christmas without our parents was back.
Every game, home or away, she and the girls cheered from the box or seats behind the bench. It was surreal to have them rink-side. And hilarious because Gem bought Candace a pair of pink fluffy noise canceling headphones to wear. Of course, my baby sister spent most of the time yanking them off.
And the twins weren’t to be left out. They convinced Gem they needed matching pairs. Although they never actually wore theirs either. They spent the games with them wrapped around their necks instead of on their heads. Not that I care. Those bright pink puffs make it easy to find them in the crowd.
Crouched in front of the net, my gaze darts to where I know the girls and Gem are. They’re jumping up and down, yelling out who knows what, each of them—except Gem—with my name and number on the back of their team jersey, pink headphones around their necks—including Candace—and I grin.
I love having them with me my first season in the league.
And Gem has made sure they’ve been on every step of this history-making ride with me, homeschooling the twins with the help of Deanne Harper of all people.
She hired Mrs. Harper to homeschool the children of any players who wanted their families traveling with the team for the playoffs. It’s working so well she’s talking about offering her a full-time position for the entire school year.
Pulling my gaze back to the game, I focus in on the play. We’re a goal up but only because Vegas scored for us. Caron’s attempt to clear the puck hit the back of his own teammate and ricocheted into the very place he’d been trying to avoid.
That was two minutes ago. And the puck has been up and down the ice non-stop for those two minutes. Back and forth, back and forth, no one able to make a break and get it close to either goal.
Which is fine with me. Although, I know I can’t get complacent. They’ll be gunning for me, hungry to even the score.
Especially Caron. He’s got a point to prove now.
Even as I think it, Caron breaks free with the puck and heads my way. One of the league’s top scoring centers, he has a look on his face that says stopping him is going to take everything I have. It’s crazy, but I know this one is going to test me like nothing else has all game.
It’s in the way he moves, the way he seems to vibrate on his blades.
Byrd gets in his way, and at first, I think he’s got him, but then the puck shoots out and Caron zips around Byrd like he’s standing still and with what looks like a gentle sweep of his stick, collects the puck and has control again as though he never lost it.
