Today is the final game of the regular season. How the Saints play now will either send them to the WHL playoffs or end their season early.
Despite having an absolutely amazing first half of the season, the Saints hit a rough patch two months ago that dropped them significantly in the standings, creating the opening for the Edmonton Wranglers to close the gap between them.
He doesn’t try to, but I know Oakley blames himself for their drastic drop.
After the mess in Minnesota and then his surprise appearance on that podcast, the team was a bit stunted. Distracted, they just . . . lost their momentum. It wasn’t Oakley’s fault, not when the team shouldn’t have taken their eyes off the prize for something as useless as a bit of drama, but to my sweet, sweet man, that didn’t matter.
Today, it’s winner takes all. The pressure is on, but still, somehow, Oakley isn’t showing it.
For what feels like the hundredth time since I’ve sat in my seat, the projected first overall pick of the NHL draft shoots a puck in the opposing team’s net and points his stick right at me as he stands on centre ice. Oh, boy. My stomach is a fluttering mess.
His teammates create a circle around him, congratulating him on the goal, but his eyes never leave mine. That damn beaming smile tugs at my chest, threatening to pull my heart right through the cage around it.
“That’s my guy!” I shout, not caring about the eager eyes watching each of our interactions.
The attention has become a regular occurrence, but each day it gets easier to ignore. I’ve even taken one of my social media accounts off private, although I’ve made sure the comments are turned off. It might be completely ridiculous, but I just like to post photos of us together. We look too good to be kept hidden.
Oakley purses his lips and blows me a kiss with his glove. I throw caution to the wind and lift my hand in the air to grab it, not caring that it’s probably the cheesiest thing I have ever done.
“I might throw up,” Morgan groans from beside me. She’s looking at me with a mix of curiosity and surprise. “I’m going to have to pretend I don’t know the cheeseball beside me now.”
“You love it. I know you do,” I tease.
“Maybe deep, deep down.”
I knock her shoulder with mine as the teams set back up for a faceoff in the middle of the ice. “Matt has never blown you a kiss during a game?”
Her mouth twitches. “Maybe once or twice.”
“Exactly. Zip it.”
“You’re different, you know?”
I look at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “It’s a good different. You’re happy, more open. I’ve never seen you this way. Like you genuinely couldn’t imagine your life any better.”
“I’m so happy, Mo.”
She hit the nail on the head. I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life. Not anymore.
Between my mama drama and everything else, I think I’ve finally found a sense of peace that I was living without for far too long. It’s like finally feeling the sun on my skin after years of cloud cover.
The crowd goes crazy when Adam scores the next goal, a quick top-shelf shot—his specialty. In a breath, I’m on my feet again, joining in the screams, and as if he can feel how desperately I’ve been missing him, he looks at me and smiles. It hits like a blow to the chest, and I worry I could actually cry from something so simple.
My feelings only grow more erratic when Oakley throws his arms around Adam from behind and congratulates him, lifting him in the air. As soon as his blades touch the ice again, Adam spins and hits Oakley on the back, grinning and saying something that I wish I could hear.
“Woah,” Morgan says. I nod. “That’s something I didn’t see coming.”
My mouth tugs. “I did. Sooner or later, they were going to come together. They’re both important parts of my life.”
“Good riddance, I say. Think Adam’s gotten rid of Beth yet?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked a lot recently. But I hope he did. Who knows what trouble she could bring if he continues to play with her.”
Morgan shudders. “I always pictured him with an athlete. Not sure why, but I’m barely wrong about these things.”
“You just want all of us to date athletes, you puck bunny,” I poke.
“Hey, I wear that name with pride. Do you see my man out there?” She grins slyly.
I laugh and watch Oakley swing his legs over the boards and collapse on the bench. A familiar zap of energy flows through me when our eyes crash and hold. Lifting my hand, I wiggle my fingers in a wave, my heart thrashing when he pulls off his glove and wiggles his.
My voice is strong when I say, “You know what? I think I will too.”
OAKLEY
We lost, but the locker room still buzzes. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still thumping through us or the excitement of such an electric home crowd, but not a single player wears anything but a smile.
“We played a good game, guys!” I shout, slapping both Adam and Tyler on the back. “Six damn goals. That’s fucking wild.”
The team hoots and hollers, and even Coach walks in with a grin. “That was my team out there today. Regardless of the outcome, you played like champions.”
“Damn rights!” Matt boasts.
“I’m incredibly proud of all of you. And even though it’s Oakley’s one and only season with us, I know we’re going to come back next year and not only make it to the playoffs but go the entire way to the championship. We’ll come back stronger.” Coach’s voice is strong, commanding, and I nod in agreement.
My friends will still be here next year, and they’ll make sure the Saints take home nothing less than a championship win. I do wish that Tyler had entered the draft before he hit the age limit, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll find himself in the NHL someday regardless. He’s the best defenseman I have ever played with.
“I just want to say that it’s been amazing playing with all of you this season. No team would have been a better fit for me,” I say after the yelling has calmed.
A flurry of pats, hugs, and handshakes come at me before everyone is ditching their hockey gear and dressing back in their clothes. The locker room empties after a few minutes, leaving only Adam and me.
Awkwardness settles over us as I start shoving my jersey into my duffle bag. Whoever orchestrated leaving us alone is going to get it when we’re done here. Apparently after seeing us hug it out on the ice earlier, the team decided we need to talk too.
Adam pulls a sweatshirt over his chest and runs his fingers through his damp hair. It’s shaggy, looking like he hasn’t cut it in a few too many weeks. As if feeling me staring at him, he looks up and offers me a brief smile.
“They’re a bunch of pains in the ass,” he says.
I snort a laugh. “Yeah, they are.”
He blows out a long breath and sits on the bench, his legs spread, hands clasped between them. “I miss her.”
“She misses you too.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just couldn’t be around her until I figured out what the fuck was going on with me.”
I drop to the bench beside him. “She knows that.”
“I nearly ruined our friendship over feelings that I didn’t understand and wrongfully labelled. What I felt for her wasn’t romantic—I just thought it was. My mommy and daddy issues are probably the cause of that.”
“Your parents suck, Adam.” I belt out a laugh. He joins soon after, our shoulders shaking.
“I don’t want to miss out on any more time with her, man. It’s only a matter of time before she moves to be with you.”
“I’m not going to force her to follow me anywhere, Adam.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he clarifies. “I just mean that she won’t want to stay here alone while you’re somewhere else. She’ll go to you on her own, and then she’ll be gone. I don’t want to miss out on the time I have.”
Understanding hits me. His worry is almost comforting. He loves her in the exact way she needs him to, and that’s what I want for her.
“You need to tell her that. Explain this all to her because she’s been worrying about you nonstop.”
More than anything, she just wants her best friend back. They have a connection that I won’t ever be able to understand, but for the first time since I laid eyes on them together, I want her to continue to have that relationship.
“Thanks, man. You’re damn good for her, you know? You make her happy.”
“She makes me happy too. Real fucking happy.”
He grabs my shoulder and squeezes before standing and grabbing his bag. “We should go see her before she comes tearing into the dressing room.”
I laugh and nod, grabbing my bag before following after him. Loud voices hit me when we get into the hallway and come face to face with a massive crowd.
“Is this a ‘congratulations on losing’ parade?” Adam asks, shoving through the crowd.
Ava pops her head around one of the other players and sends me a toothy grin as she heads right for me. She jumps and I catch her without difficulty, bringing her close and kissing her in front of everyone. Suddenly, I feel something light brush my face and look up to see her dropping confetti over us.
“You played amazing out there. Win or lose, you’ll always be a star,” she murmurs before pressing her lips to mine, stealing my breath.
I tighten my grip on her thighs and pull back, bumping our noses. “Your star, Ava. I’ll always be yours.”
