Page 44 of My One & Goalie
I wrap my arm around his narrow shoulders. “No, bud, it’s not. Hockey’s a team sport, remember? And we haven’t lost the game yet, either. Chin up.” I tap him beneath the chin, smiling at him.
“Okay, Coach.” He bobs his head, blowing out a breath.
“You think you’re ready to get back out there?”
Lips pressed together, he nods. “Yes.”
I slap him on the back. “Great. You’ve got this.”
We stand and I signal to Jackson for a time-out. The clock stops and both teams switch out players. Jett skates over to the goal and the game resumes. My gut clenches as he fidgets in the net, spinning his stick around. He’s still nervous, and I wonder if I should have waited longer to put him back in.
But the Flyers have the puck again, and they’re driving straight down the center. No time to worry about the what-ifs—I only hope Jett remembers all the tips we’ve practiced.
“Help him out, boys!” I cup my hands and shout to the defensemen. They circle around Jett, forming a protective ring, and I hold my breath as the Flyer wings move in closer. The left wing takes a shot and Jett hits it out of the net with his hand.
“Yes! Great job!”
Our defenseman slaps at the puck, sending it flying down the ice. The wingmen grab the rubber disc, moving it between their sticks, and Jackson’s shouting directions at them.
“Owen, go right!”
Owen follows the instruction and takes a shot, the puck flying into the goal.
“Alright!” Jackson high-fives me and I shoot Jett a thumbs-up.
The game’s tied up with only three minutes left. The Flyers have the puck and our wingmen circle around, trying to steal the disc away. But the kids are too fast, skating toward Jett at a rapid pace.
“Defense—look alive!” I yell. Jett’s sprawled across the goal so wide he seems off-balance.
Luckily, the other team doesn’t get a chance to take the shot. The right defenseman slides in and steals the puck, shunting it across the ice. I take a deep breath of relief, glancing up atRachel. She’s bouncing up and down, the red glow of the clock behind her.
One minute left and then we go into overtime.
The defenseman passes to the left wingman and he boldly takes the shot, the puck sliding into the corner of the net as the buzzer goes off.
Our entire bench jumps up, screaming and cheering. Jackson’s grinning ear to ear, leaning in and giving me a hug.
“Great work, Kovac. The defense did well.”
“Thanks, Jackson. It was a team effort.” I tip my chin at him before lifting my gaze to the stands. Rachel’s beaming at Jett and me, and my chest swells with pride. She blows me a kiss and my face heats in spite of the frigid temp in the arena.
“Looks like you have a fan, Kovac.” Jackson smirks and I slug him in the arm.
“Maybe. But so do you.” I nod at Harper, who’s making a finger heart sign at him.
“That I do. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“Guys—can we get a photo?” A man with a camera taps Jackson on the shoulder, hands him his card. “I’m with theGazette.”
I vaguely wonder if this is the same jerkoff who chased me and Rachel at the Boathouse, but decide to smile and play nice.
Jackson and I corral the boys onto the ice and the photographer snaps a bunch of pics, all the kids laughing and smiling. Rachel, Harper, and the other parents lean on the wall, watching and chatting.
Finally, we’re finished with the photo session and we all skate back to the bench.
“Before we go home, boys, I want to take a second and recap the game. You all did wicked good out there today. You skated your hearts out and should be proud of your efforts. Most of all, you demonstrated great teamwork. That’s going to take usfar this season. Go home and get some rest and we’ll see you at practice next week! Stars on three!”
All the kids count and cheer before scattering like tiny pinballs in every direction. Skates and gear fly, bags are grabbed, and then we’re walking to the parking lot. Jett’s sandwiched between me and Rachel, swinging from our hands, his gappy smile wide.