Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I’m going to miss it.
It’s not only that I’m graduating and moving on.
Everything is going to change after tonight. Whether we walk away with the championship or not, this is it for my college career.
Come the end of summer, I’ll be jetting off to some new town in some other state, and I’ll begin the next phase of my life.
I want Zach with me always, but I won’t stop him from doing what he loves, just like he won’t stop me.
I keep holding out for a miracle. For that single phone call to tell me a team—any team—within a two-hundred-mile radius wants me. Or, better idea, maybe it’s about time Vermont got themselves a professional hockey team. I could take it to the NHL heads.
Hey, I’d really love it if you created a new team so I can be close to my boyfriend and blow him on the regular. Great idea? Thanks.
All I know is, no matter what, Zach and I have promised ourselves to each other. Maybe it sounds stupid and naïve for college sweethearts who have been together for less than a year to promise big things. We’ve vowed to do everything we can to make it work, but we’re still realistic.
It’s going to take a lot of communication, something Zach still struggles with, and patience—which I struggle with. We’ll have to compromise which is new for both of us.
Hockey used to be the only thing in my life that mattered. Now it’s a juggling act between the ice and my man, but I’m willing to do it. Because I’ve never met anyone like Zach.
And I don’t think it’s totally selfish to ask for everything I want.
A Frozen Four win, my boyfriend at my side, and an NHL deal that’s millions of dollars past my worth as a rookie.
Okay, I’ll settle for any NHL contract. The money doesn’t matter.
See? I’m already compromising. I’m an adult and mature and shit. Go me!
As we enter the locker room for the final, there’s a mixture of emotions on each of the other guys’ faces.
We’re excited, the adrenaline is flowing, but we’re all nervous as fuck.
I’m the captain. I got us this far. “Hey, guys?”
Everyone’s attention immediately goes to me. That’s a first. There’s usually a lot of, Hey. Hey. Stop fucking talking and listen to me.
They’re all looking at me for guidance and reassurance.
“There’s only one thing you have to remember while you’re on the ice. We’ve already made it. We’ve gotten the furthest our school ever has. We broke the curse. The rest is icing on the cake. So let’s go out there and have fun.”
“Fun?” Jacobs looks like he wants to rip my head off. “Fun? Are you insane?”
“The last thing we need is to let the pressure get to us and choke out there. UMass is going to be scrambling for the win. Fighting for it.” I grin. “We’re going to take it from them.”
All the guys smile wide.
“Simple as that?” Cohen asks.
“Yup.”
And for a while, it works.
For the first two periods, we’re calm and collected but strong as we shoot down any chance they get on goal. But the same goes for them.
It’s a scoreless game, which makes it a boring game for the spectators but a tiring game for us because both sides are fighting as hard as they can.
It’s disheartening every time we set up the perfect play only for their goalie to deny us the point.
To the audience it probably looks like we’re having bad games, but the truth is, both teams are playing well. Our goalies are on hot streaks. Our defenses are working overtime.
“Are we having fun yet?” someone mumbles when we hit the locker room before the last period.
“Don’t give up,” Coach says. “All we need is one shot. This is some of the best hockey I’ve seen in my life, boys. Don’t let it come crumbling down in the third. Keep fighting. Keep it up.”
We go back out there with Coach’s pep talk in our minds, but it’s more of the same.
All we need is one shot. All we need is one shot.
I get a chance and send the puck sailing into the goalie’s glove.
Jacobs gets a shot, and it bounces off the goalie’s pads.
You know what I’m starting to think? We don’t need one shot. We need their goalie to break a leg.
And then the unthinkable happens.
UMass manages a fluke and scores, lighting up the lamp for the first time tonight.
We’re utterly dejected, and I feel the remaining hope in the team dwindling away.
And no matter how much I try to tell myself the same thing I told the team—we’ve already made history, everything else is just icing on the cake, a runner-up position is still the best position our school has ever gotten—it’s not enough for me.
It’s clear it’s not enough for Jacobs either. As if the very real chance of losing this thing lights a fire under both our asses, we somehow pull off the play of the year.