I barely slept.
Tonight is the night that my life-long goal might be fulfilled. I’ve only dreamt of winning the Stanley Cup since I learned what it was. Any kid that throws on a pair of hockey skates considers this moment, but only a few experience it in their lifetimes.
My most significant life achievement can happen tonight, and I can’t help but think about what brought me here.
My dad made ends meet, ensuring my hockey tournaments were paid for so I wouldn’t miss out. I was heavily scouted my sophomore year of high school, even in my tiny Indiana town. The full-ride scholarship I earned to Ohio State University. The semester I failed two courses and missed my sophomore season, resulting in almost losing said scholarship.
My best friend, who I met when I was seven and hated until I was twenty-two. Senior Showcase, the weekend we put our hostility aside and realized we had more similarities than differences.
The night I got called up to the league and the phone call I made to Lindsey, who was screaming with joy on the other end.
My first two months in Chicago where I was scared shitless to be the rookie on a team full of veterans. My first full season in the NHL when I spent an ungodly number of minutes in the penalty box.
The year Maddison got traded here, and pieces began to fall into place. We started building a team around the two of us. But the last six seasons, we fell short, barely making playoffs some years while others, we lost in the first round.
And this season. This is the season my entire life changed. The first road trip of the year shifted everything. A curly-haired flight attendant with an attitude put me in my place and became everything I never knew I needed. She exposed the missing pieces in my life while simultaneously putting them all together.
I shed unnecessary burdens while repairing relationships I’ve missed. I decided to stop playing into the persona fans love to hate. But most importantly, this year, I did the one thing I was most afraid of. I let someone love me for me, and I can’t imagine a more picture-perfect ending than holding the Cup above my head with her by my side.
My dad followed me back to Chicago last night after shooting two more rounds of pool. Lindsey’s flight landed around ten this morning, and the two of them are staying in a hotel in the city for a few nights. They’re both in the arena for the first time in my pro career, and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of comfort from knowing I have fans here solely for me.
The media has been insane, following our every move since we returned from Pittsburgh after games one and two. Maddison and my sordid college history has been making national headlines as a feel-good story about rivals turned friends who are now only one win away from becoming Stanley Cup champions.
Stevie’s name has circulated slightly, but our team’s impressive playoff run has shadowed her and our relationship, which is for the best. I’d rather the media not figure out what’s going on between us before I do.
I’ve gone by her apartment every day since I’ve been back, but she hasn’t come home yet. I don’t know if she’s even in Chicago today, let alone in the arena, but I can’t think about her right now.
For the next couple of hours, my entire focus needs to be on the three periods of hockey I’m about to play, which is why I got her a ticket out of my vantage point. I can’t be looking for her all night, and I know if I see an empty seat, it’ll throw me off.
My dad and Lindsey are up in the family box with Logan and the rest of the Maddisons, but I want to be present if and when Stevie meets my dad, so I got her a ticket in general seating instead.
Even though it’s not confirmed if she’s back in Chicago, I have to believe she is. I can’t imagine she’d miss this.
Maddison takes a seat in his locker stall next to mine, both of us suited up for the game and ready to get this underway. He leans his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the ground. “You ready?”
I nod, equally as focused as my best friend. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” He stays silent for a moment. “This might be our last game together—”
“Can we save this for after we win the Cup?”
He lightly laughs. “Yeah. For sure.”
“You know, for the little golden boy who got everything he ever wanted, you really turned out to be the best friend I could ever ask for.”
His chest heaves in a silent laugh. “For being the piece of shit I thought you were, you really turned out to be one hell of a guy.”
I hold my fist out as he connects his.
“But I still think you’re an asshole,” he reminds me.
“And you’re still a dick.”
The United Center is deafening as we skate out of the tunnel. Flashing lights illuminate our path as we step onto the dark ice, but the announcers, fans, and blaring music drown out each other so much so that the only thing I can hear is my own thumping heartbeat. My short breaths don’t do much to fill my lungs as I glide across the ice for warm-ups, but I can’t help it. This is the most nervous I’ve ever been for a game.
Logan meets Maddison down at the glass just as she does every game. I usually give them shit, but I’m too focused tonight.
“Eleven!” the referee shouts. “Take your ring off.”
Confused, I look down at my hands, my gloves sitting on the bench as I take a drink of water. I already took all my rings off, including my chain. They’re sitting in my locker stall as we speak. But then I see it. Stevie’s tiny ring, barely visible on my pinky finger, that I completely forgot to tape over. It’s too late now. The ref already saw it.
“No,” I argue.
He skates up to me, confused. “What?”
“I’m not taking it off.”
“Then you’re not playing.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Maddison leaves the glass, quickly skating over to the referee and me. He puts his body between us. “He’s playing. He’ll take it off.”
Maddison grabs my jersey, dragging me to skate with him back down the tunnel, hidden from anyone else’s view. “Take the fucking ring off your finger.”
“No.”
“Zee, stop being ridiculous. Take it off your fucking finger.”
I don’t respond, but I also don’t make a move to remove it.
Maddison softens his approach. “It doesn’t mean anything, man. Stevie will forgive you. I know she will. Just give me sixty minutes of hockey, then we’ll figure that out afterward, yeah?”
I stay silent.
“Did you know I have a note that Logan wrote me in college during Senior Showcase that I still read before every game? But even if I didn’t have it with me or forgot to read it, it doesn’t mean she loves me any less. It’s just a symbol, and you’re holding on to that ring because you think it’s all you have of Stevie right now.”
It takes a moment of reflection, but finally, I give him a resigned nod and unwillingly slip Stevie’s ring off my finger. I look around for somewhere safe to put it, not able to head back into the locker room.
“I mean, I’m not a monster. Tie it to your fucking lace and tuck it in your skate or something.”
I level him with a look. “Fucking sap.”
He unapologetically pops his shoulders.
The national anthem, starting announcements, and pre-game rituals fly by in an instant, and without realizing it, we’re in the first period.
Nerves are high on our bench. Passes aren’t connecting, transitions aren’t smooth, and line swaps are mistimed. On the other hand, Pittsburgh is playing like they have nothing to lose because, well, they don’t. Down 3-0 in the finals while playing on the road has everyone betting against them, and they’re playing like it. Their hits are hard, shots are firing nonstop, and they’re skating fast and loose.
They score twelve minutes into the first period, giving them the 1-0 lead.
During the first intermission, our coach lectures us on playing scared and reminds us that we’re back on a plane to Pittsburgh tomorrow for game five if we don’t win tonight. I want to win at home, we all do, and the last thing I need is to get on that plane and remember Stevie’s not there.
That’s the first time she pops into my head during the game, and I shake her off, needing to focus once again.
I draw a penalty early in the second period when one of the Pittsburgh forwards high sticks me, splitting my cheek as red pours from my skin and onto the ice.
I barely feel it. Too much adrenaline is coursing through my veins to notice pain. But it gives us the man-advantage, and one of our second-year forwards scores in the first twenty seconds of the power play, tying the game and settling the boys’ nerves.
The period consists of equal shots on goal, Rio and I holding off Pittsburgh’s top line. They do the same to Maddison and his wingers.
We end period two tied 1-1.
The third and hopefully final period begins quiet—no chirping, barely any talk on the ice, nerves back and evident on both sides. For Pittsburgh, it’s the fear that this is the end of the season. For us, it’s the realization that this could be it. We can win the Cup in these final twenty minutes, and that’s scary as hell.
Momentum trades off between our two teams. Shifts are short, giving our tired legs their much-needed rest. Pittsburgh fires off a shot with only three minutes left, and it buzzes past our goaltender’s glove, but by some miracle, it hits the crossbar instead of flying into the back of the net.
The crowd gasps in fear, everyone on their feet. I’m not going to lie, the scare causes my heart to skip a beat.
Two more shifts, and time is winding down in the third when I hop the ice for my turn. Maddison and our top line got on ten seconds ago, so we have our best players for this final run.
Pittsburgh’s center bodies past me to our goalie, and by a miracle of a save, the puck bounces off his pads, and I sweep the rebound off the boards and out of our zone. The ricochet lands on Maddison’s stick while keeping him onside, and he uses his speed to zip into our offensive zone.
He’s the fastest guy on the ice, and it shows when he lands in front of Pittsburgh’s goal in a blink of an eye. And with just under a minute left in the third, he goes five-hole, the puck finding the back of the net as he lights the lamp with the potential game-winning goal.
My stick is on the ground as I charge at him, throwing my body on his, pinning him to the boards. The rest of the boys follow suit as our home crowd erupts, hands slapping the glass and sirens blaring.
We make our way past our bench, knocking gloves before Maddison grabs my shoulders, eyes boring into mine. He’s holding back his smile, as am I, but we both know he just scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal on my assist.
I try to stay focused for the last sixty seconds, especially when Pittsburgh pulls their goalie, giving us a man disadvantage, but I can’t help my eyes wandering to the clock, watching the final seconds wind down.
Ten… Nine… Eight…
I propel my stick out when one of their forwards fires a shot, and somehow, I gain control, so I push the puck towards their empty net. It’s wide. We’re called for icing, and the refs gather the puck, bringing it back to our defensive zone.
Maddison lines up for his potentially final face-off of the season with four seconds left as the crowd erupts in anticipation. As I lean over, I attempt to take a breath, needing to collect myself, but I can’t. My chest is light, my pulse is racing, and my mouth is dry. I can hear everything, see everything, feel everything.
The puck drops.
Three… Two… One…
We just won the fucking Stanley Cup.
My gloves hit the ground instantly, stick abandoned, helmet off. Warmth flows through my body as I attack our goalie with the rest of my team, dog-piling until we’re a mess of red jerseys on top of one another.
I can’t make out words. There’s a shit-ton of yelling and cheering, a couple of guys crying in this mess of a pile as red and black confetti begins to rain down onto the ice, covering us.
We fucking did it.
After a grueling season, we did it. After twenty-two years of skating, early morning practices, conditioning, broken bones, torn muscles, wanting to quit more times than I can count, I did it. Every second of effort, sacrifice, and hard work is vindicated, culminating at this moment.
Two fists grab my jersey, pulling me onto my feet as Maddison throws his body into mine with a crushing hug. “Let’s go, Zee baby!”
I wrap my arms around him. “We fucking did it, man!”
We hold on for a little longer before we’re attacked by more bodies, more teammates, more coaches, but there are no words for this moment. The moment I achieve the one thing I could’ve only dreamed of as a kid, and I get to do so with my brother at my side.
Logan’s red hair captures my attention only a second after it catches Maddison’s. He races to her, barely allowing the seat usher to open the plexiglass before he’s picking her up and not letting go.
The smile on my face is painfully big as I watch my two best friends together. Logan’s green eyes are rimmed in red with happy tears as she tries to hide in Maddison’s neck, but it’s then that it hits me.
Stevie.
The whole family box is guided onto the ice, but Stevie’s not with them. She didn’t sit with them, but I need her here. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I need to tell her how much I love her, and I need the whole world to know too. She felt rejected when people found out about her, so it’s only right she feels chosen with that same attention.
“Scott!” I yell to one of our team managers as he’s celebrating on the ice. I pull him away from someone else mid-hug. “That ticket you got for me. You know Stevie, from the plane? My girlfriend, she’s sitting there. Can you bring her down?” My volume is loud enough to hear over the crowd, my tone pleading.
He quickly nods, noting the urgency on my face as he takes off into the crowd.
Turning around, Lindsey attacks me in a hug.
“Congrats, Ev!” she shouts into my ear. I lift her up, swinging her around. Setting her back on her feet, she holds me out at arm’s length with an overwhelmingly proud smile on her lips.
My dad’s hand slides around the back of my neck, pulling me into him. He’s almost as tall as I am, but I have quite a few inches over him in my skates. Regardless, I bend down, hiding away in his hug.
“Proud of you, son.” He pats me hard on the shoulder while continuing to hold me.
“Love you, Dad.”
Reaching out, I grab my sister, the three of us hanging on in a hug. All the tension in my body releases, having my family with me, having them here to celebrate after everything we’ve been through.
“I love you both.”
I look up, past them, searching for any sign of Stevie, but there’s nothing yet.
My knees get knocked from behind, almost causing me to lose my balance. Peeking down, I find a pile of wild brunette hair and little hands holding on for dear life around my legs.
I pick my niece up with ease, hoisting her onto my hip. Her tiny hands squish my sweaty cheeks together. “You win, Uncle Zee!”
I can’t help but laugh.
My eyes find Maddison again as he shares a long moment with his dad, brother, and stepmom before his eight-month-old son, MJ, is passed to him. He peppers kisses on MJ’s golden cheeks, all the while keeping Logan tucked under his arm.
Looking around, there’s still no sign of Stevie.
Maddison’s gaze darts to his daughter and me. “EJ, I think your dad wants to celebrate with you.” I skate over to him before handing her off.
He covers her in kisses before he skates off with his two kids, taking a victory lap around the rink.
“I’m so proud of you two,” Logan reminds me. She throws her arms around my neck.
“Love you, Lo.” Pulling back, we hold eye contact. “Is she here?”
Logan offers me an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure. She didn’t tell me one way or another.”
My brows crease as reality starts to set in. I was so confident Stevie was going to be here. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be. We were going to win. I would tell her how much I love her, how much meaning she brings into my life, beg her to love me back. Remind her that none of this is worth it without her, but she’s not here.
Everything I did over the last couple of weeks, I did because I needed to be the man she deserves. I needed to face some old demons, repair a relationship, and overall be ready for her. I am ready, but she’s not here.
“Zee.” Logan brings my attention back to her. “Take the moment in. Live it up and worry about everything else tomorrow. You’re still here, in Chicago. You have us. Your freaking dad is here!” She pushes my chest with pride. “Stevie loves you. I know she does, but be selfish in this moment and celebrate with your teammates.”
I nod in agreement when finally, my eyes land on Scott, standing behind the plexiglass. Urgently, I skate over to him.
“She wasn’t in that seat!” he yells over the crowd. “I’m sorry, man.”
My heart drops. I’m not sure it’s healthy to experience every emotion I have in the last five minutes—the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I thought she’d be here. I convinced myself she would be.
Maddison makes it back from his skate with his kids, and he somehow manages to hold MJ in one hand with Ella on his back as he wraps Logan up in his other. He buries his head in her neck, and like the emotional man he is, his body begins to vibrate, and I’m almost certain he’s shedding a few tears. That guy has been through it when it comes to his career and family, fighting to make it while taking some major losses along the way. But he’s here. He did it, and he has his people right alongside him.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m jealous of my best friend. He has it all. He has what I want. I never saw his life as one I desired until this year, but it’s perfectly clear to me now. I want what he has, but she’s not here.
That’s when it hits me.
Stevie has given up on me.
