Page 136 of Triple Play
“It’s more than that.”
He’s right. It is more than that.
This is their shot. Their one chance to prove to scouts and coaches and everyone who’s been talking trash for the past two weeks that they’re more than a scandal.
The teams take the ice. Crestmont in their home blue. Opponents in white.
Grant leads them out as captain. Wyatt and Jordie flank him.
They look—God, they look good. Focused. Dangerous. Like they’re about to go to war.
The national anthem plays. The crowd roars. The puck drops.
And it’s on.
First period is brutal.
The opposing team is playing dirty. Targeting Grant specifically. Trying to get in his head.
Five minutes in, one of their guys checks Grant into the boards so hard I hear the impact from the stands.
Grant gets up. Skates it off. But I see the way his jaw is clenched.
Wyatt sees it too. Next shift, the guy who hit Grant ends up flat on his ass. Wyatt didn’t even look like he tried that hard.
“That’s my boy,” Teddy mutters.
Jordie’s playing enforcer. Literally putting his body between Grant and anyone who gets too close. It’s protection and strategy and something that looks a lot like love.
Ten minutes in, Grant scores.
The arena explodes.
He doesn’t celebrate. Just skates back to center ice with that cold, focused expression that means he’s in the zone.
But as he passes the bench, he glances up. Finds me in the crowd.
Taps his chest twice.
For you.
Oh god, I’m crying. This is so embarrassing. Super dignified, Hart.
“You good?” Teddy leans over, concern creasing his forehead.
“So good,” I manage, wiping under my eyes before my mascara turns me into a raccoon.
Second period is worse.
The other team scores. Then scores again.
2-1. Wrong direction.
I can see the tension in Grant’s shoulders. The way Wyatt keeps looking at the clock. Jordie’s getting chippy, taking penalties he shouldn’t take.
They’re rattled. All three of them.
Then with eight minutes left in the period, something shifts on the ice. Wyatt intercepts a pass at the blue line and feeds it to Jordie in one smooth motion. Jordie doesn’t hesitate—just shoots it across the ice to Grant, tape to tape, and Grant winds up without thinking.
