Ending the season victorious after a win on home ice, then another against Boston College tonight is one of the best feelings in the world. My teammates crash against me on the ice the moment we finish, all of us hugging because we clinched it.
We’re bound for playoffs and I can already taste the crisp air of the arena for the championship tournament at the end of the road.
Best of all? My girl waits for me outside the locker room, looking cute as hell in my alternate jersey.
Her cheeks have green hearts with number twenty-four painted on them. She beams at me proudly for our stellar win.
I match her expression, my grin unstoppable. In one smooth move I pick her up with one arm.
“Easton!”
She wraps her arms around me with a laugh. A pleased rumble vibrates in my chest as I hold her up.
Yeah, this beats everything else on my list as my favorite feeling ever.
I carry her, starting toward the gauntlet of reporters lining the hall that leads to our exit. I’m not hiding that she’s my girl.
Their cameras flash and they call my name, firing off questions about the game, my team, and about the draft prospect ranks that were released with my name coming in at the top of the standings. It feels damn good.
Someone sticks a recorder in my face. “Heston’s entering the playoffs as the defending champions. You won Frozen Four last year. Do you hope to do the same again?”
“Of course. The Knights always fight to win when we’re on the ice,” I say.
“How are you feeling finishing the season in the top ten of the prospects for this year’s draft? This is your first time on the list—what’s changed in your strategy from last year to stand out?”
No lie, when the list released on all the biggest online sports media outlets centered on hockey news, the entire house lost our shit in celebration. Of all the guys who played for Heston that went on to be drafted out of college, none of them ranked as high as my name on that prospect list.
It was surreal to see my name mentioned on ESPN and Sportsnet’s websites.
“It’s an incredible honor to be recognized among this year’s amazing players, for sure. I’ve got a lot of motivation that keeps me focused. Most of all, this year I’ve had an amazing support system through my teammates and family.” I flash a smile at Maya. “Oh, and this is my girl, Maya. Make sure you put that in your article, too. I’m a taken man.”
The guy shifts his camera to her with interest. She buries her face in my neck. I chuckle, rubbing her leg.
More cameras flash blind us. I give a brief wave in thanks and hustle through the gauntlet to reach the door for the parking lot.
I brace against the bitter early March wind, buffing Maya’s side to keep her warm. She wraps her legs around me and tightens her arms with a hum.
She peeks out now that we’re in the clear from the media. “You really just did that.”
“Did what? Win?” I tease. “Because I’m awesome.”
She clicks her tongue, eyes dancing with humor. “You know what I’m talking about, hotshot.”
A prideful grin twists my lips. “No doubt. Thousands of people read those sports blogs and articles online. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”
Stopping in my tracks, I cup her face to draw her in for a kiss.
“Ow, ow,” Noah heckles.
Cameron’s voice booms when he puts his hands around his mouth. “Get a room.”
Maya keeps the kiss going for another minute, lifting her arm away from me. I grin against her lips, suspecting that she’s flipping them off. I hold up my own finger.
“That’s cute, they match,” Noah says with a snort.
We break apart and I hoist her to keep her in my arms. “Let’s give it up for our true MVP.”
I steal Cam’s hat off his head and wave it in the air while we all whoop.
He laughs as the guys circle around him. Thankfully his injury wasn’t as bad as everyone worried it was. He was back in business for our final two games, on fire while defending the crease.
“You were on fire tonight,” Maya says.
“Thanks.” Cameron gives her a fist bump.
“What about me?” Noah prompts. “You saw that sick save I had in the second, right?”
She laughs. “No doubt.”
“And what about me?” I clasp her chin, drawing her attention back. “Your eyes were on me, weren’t they?”
Someone pretends to gag. She shakes her head, cradling my face as she bumps her nose with mine.
Her back pocket vibrates against my forearm. “Oh. Hang on, someone’s calling.”
She fishes out her phone while I keep her balanced in my arms. I spot her brother’s name on the screen and swipe it to answer with a cocky grin.
“Look at that, my rival’s called to congratulate me for making it to the playoffs.” I chuckle, wanting to bust his balls. “You’d better watch us when we win Frozen Four again, Donnelly.”
“What—Blake?” He’s far from amused, snapping at me seriously. “Put Maya on the phone, now.”
I blink at his demand, offering the phone back to her. “He’s not in a good mood.”
She huffs at my antics. “When is he ever? Hello? What’s up, Ry?” She listens for a moment, her joyful smile falling. “What?”
When she taps frantically to be let down, I set her feet on the ground, brows furrowing. She covers her mouth, features stricken.
“No.”
Worried, I rub her arm. “What is it?”
She shakes her head, hunching her shoulders as she turns away. The first spark of panic flickers to life as I follow her through the parking lot.
“When? I thought everything was b—” Her voice cracks with anguish.
It does me in. She hangs up, chest heaving with deep gulps of air as she digs through her purse. A jagged band of steel locks around my heart when she rips Reagan’s borrowed keys from the bag.
There’s no way I’m letting her drive in this state. A snowstorm just blew through the entire northeast, leaving the roads a wreck with black ice.
“Maya.” She’s not listening. I snatch the keys away, catching her when she tries to fight me for them. “Maya, stop. Just wait a second. Tell me what’s wrong.”
With a strangled gasp, her distraught gaze collides with mine. Her chin wobbles, breaking my fucking heart.
“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me,” I encourage gently.
Her throat bobs. “It’s—it’s my grandpa. He’s dying.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I haul her into a hug, cradling the back of her head and neck, squeezing as I hush her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I—I can’t. Easton,” she whimpers. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“Blake,” Coach Lombard calls.
Damn it. I look across the parking lot, clenching my jaw.
I kiss her forehead, eyes boring into hers. “Wait one minute, okay? I’ll be right back. The last thing I’ll do right now is leave you alone.”
She nods, clutching at me like she doesn’t want me to go. It kills me to leave her like this for even a second to talk to the coaches.
“I’m coming right back. Just wait here for me.”
My teammates cheer as I jog over to the bus, pausing from loading all our gear to chant captain, captain. For the first time ever, I ignore them, not stopping until I nearly crash into Coach Lombard’s back.
“Sir.”
He’s not paying attention, going over a checklist with our equipment manager. “Let’s go. Get on the bus. We’re starting practice early tomorrow. We’ve got work to put in before the first playoff game.”
“I can’t.” Finally, he turns his attention to me. I gesture to Maya. “I know it’s against the rules and the team is supposed to ride the bus, but I’m asking for one exception. It’s a family emergency.”
“Family?” He lifts a brow.
“Yes. She’s about to lose someone extremely important because he’s dying, and I need her to be able to say goodbye.”
The insistent words scrape my throat, overlapped by my own grief rising to the surface. I blow out a breath, trying to hold myself together while I relive how much it hurt to know I couldn’t tell Dad I loved him one more time. To know I couldn’t talk to him about my problems or ask his advice about hockey or life. To know I’d never hear his voice outside of old home videos and saved voicemails where he’s giving me shit for blocking his car because I parked my bike in the driveway again.
I don’t want her to find out what that’s like if she has the chance to see her grandfather before he passes and find some of the closure I wasn’t able to experience.
“I don’t want her driving alone while she’s upset. The roads are a mess from the storm.”
Coach hums gruffly in acknowledgement. He hands the checklist to the equipment manager and grasps my shoulder to lead me away from the bus.
“Playoffs don’t wait for anyone, son,” he reminds me. “Topping the draft prospect ranks for the season doesn’t mean you’ve made it yet. Your current team can’t go without their captain. We’re on the road to the championships now.”
“I know,” I answer tightly.
“You’ll need to be back for practice.”
My conflicted gaze finds my girl. I’m torn between my love for her and how that fits into the goal I’ve worked towards. I’ll never choose anything over her. She’s part of my future now.
I rub at the burn in my chest. I know this is what Dad would expect of me. To take care of the people important to me, the way he always did before we lost him.
Ah, shit. I blink away the sting in my eyes, swallowing thickly.
Death and loss fucking suck. There’s no denying that truth. But as long as we hold on to the people we love, everything will be okay.
And I’ll never let go of Maya Donnelly, especially not when my girl needs me.
Even if it costs me my dream of being drafted. I’ll still fight my way to the NHL one way or another.
“Coach, with all due respect, I’m not really asking permission here. She comes first. No question.” I raise my chin. “I’ll do everything in my power to make this work. You can count on me. I won’t abandon my team, but I have to go right now.”
Coach surveys me in silence, then nods. “You make me proud, Blake.” He squeezes my shoulder, leaning closer. “I’ve never been more honored to coach a player like you. Cannon and I look forward to seeing the long career I know you’re going to have in this game.”
My throat closes. I clear it and scrub my eyes before sprinting back to Maya’s side.
She’s trembling, struggling to hold back her emotions. I pull her into my embrace, wanting to carry all her pain for her.
“Come on. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
She loses the battle once she’s in my arms, hiccuping as she presses her face against my chest. Jarring shudders rack her frame and she clutches at me with a desperate white-knuckled grip. She tries to speak, but can’t get anything out past her heaving breaths.
Seeing her like this destroys me. I gather my strength in order to keep it together because she needs me to lean on more than ever. We’ll get through this together.
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Let’s hit the road. We’re going to see him right now.”
