THE COUNTLESS DAYS SPENT wondering if I was good enough were washed away in an instant as the buzzer sounded and reality sank in. It might have only taken me my entire career, but I’d won a championship. My name would forever be immortalized, stamped in silver on the trophy every player coveted.
Being on the ice when the game ended meant I was at the center of the crush when every teammate rushed off the bench—all of us in disbelief that we’d accomplished a goal so many pursued but failed to attain.
Jaxon pulled me into a bear hug. “We fucking did it!” “MVP!” I threw back as my arms closed around him.
He shook his head in protest. “Nah. Should be Reed. Goaltending was on point. Couldn’t have done it without him.”
One of the things that everyone loved about Jaxon was how humble he was—always had been. He firmly believed that hockey was a team game and that each of us played a vital role in our success. The spotlight found him early on, but he’d handled it with grace, never folding under the pressure of high expectations. Tonight, I knew he would be rewarded for leading us to the promised land. He deserved every bit of the recognition he received.
Being the leader he was, he shouted to the group, “We have all summer to celebrate! Time to shake hands with the Bridgers and congratulate them on
one hell of a series.”
Skating off to be the first in the handshake line, everyone followed suit. While it was euphoric to finally win, it was bittersweet coming face to face with the players on the other side whose dreams were crushed. They’d fallen just short and would never forget it.
A carpet was rolled out, and the commissioner appeared, along with a man carrying the MVP award. When Jaxon was declared the winner, I nudged him with a look that said I told you so. Giving me an eye roll and a smirk, he skated forward to accept it before handing it off to a member of the staff.
The gleaming silver chalice was brought out next, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
The commissioner called Jaxon forward once more to accept the championship trophy as the team’s captain. Gripping both ends of the massive trophy, he lifted it over his head as a triumphant roar left his lips. Skating a quick lap, he handed it off to Reed for his efforts in goal.
When it was finally my turn, I hesitated for a moment. It almost didn’t seem real. Superstition dictated you only touched this sacred symbol of the ultimate achievement—stamped with the names of all the legends who came before us—if you were fortunate enough to win it, lest you ruin any chances of ever doing so.
Cautiously, I reached my hands out and grasped the edges before raising it over my head. I expected it to be heavier, but nothing could outweigh the lead weight settled over my heart.
This was the prize I’d worked for my entire life. And it struck me that I would give it up in a heartbeat if it meant I could have the woman I loved.
Passing it off to Benji once I skated my lap around the ice surface, I noticed the families were making their way out to celebrate with their players.
The significant others stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing matching jean jackets with the name and number of their man in script on the back— specifically made for the playoffs. Hannah also had one, but the one she wore in public carried her own last name to support her dad. Natalie was in charge of ordering them, so she’d made sure Hannah had an extra with my name and number. Pain washed over me at the memory of coming home to her kneeling in bed with her back to me, wearing nothing but the jean jacket branding her as my girl.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off Jaxon as Natalie clung to him, legs thrown around his waist and arms looped around his neck as their four children watched on.
Their laughter and happy conversation reached my ears. A smile splitting her face, Natalie declared, “You stink!”
Jaxon’s wide grin matched that of his wife’s. “Breathe it in, baby. That’s the smell of a champion.”
She threw her head back as melodic laughter carried beyond where I stood watching.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Hannah was supposed to be in my arms—this would have been the perfect time to announce our relationship to the world, on the highest of all highs. Instead, we’d been outed by a cheap-shot hit and forced apart by her father.
What should be the best day of my life would be forever tainted by what could have been.
Just thinking about her was enough to conjure her presence, and I caught sight of Hannah from the corner of my eye. She’d kept her distance since that fateful night when everything changed, even going so far as to give up anthem singing so we didn’t have to be within fifty feet of each other.
She happened to be staring at the same display of affection between our best friends, and from across the ice surface, our eyes locked—the sadness I felt in my own heart was reflected back at me in her blue depths. It would be so much easier if I saw hate there. At least then, I would know there was still a fire in her belly instead of being consumed by heartache.
Hannah was my feisty vixen, and it killed me to know I was the man who’d extinguished her spark.
Time stood still as we stared at each other, wishing things could be different today. She broke my gaze at a touch on her shoulder, turning to throw her arms around her father’s neck. Coach narrowed his eyes at me from over Hannah’s head.
It took everything in me not to flip him off behind her back, but I was very aware of the number of cameras aimed at the team as we celebrated.
You won, asshole. Hope you’re happy with yourself.
“So, I take it that’s the girl.” My sister’s voice sounded from beside me. I’d flown my parents, sister, and nephews out for the game. Nash stayed behind to run the ranch.
“Yeah,” I breathed out.
“And she’s not over here in your arms because . . .” Was she really going to make me rehash this here?
“Because she’s not my girl. Not anymore.“ I couldn’t keep the pain from my voice as I said those words out loud.
“Hmm,” Zoe mused. “You neglected to mention she’s your coach’s daughter.”
“Not in the mood for a lecture. The ‘you should have known better’ schtick has been worn out by now.”
“Answer me one question, and I’ll drop it.” I released a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
“Who ended it?”
Technically, her father.
“As far as anyone is concerned, it was me.” Zoe was perceptive enough; she’d figure it out.
“I see.”
“Cal, my boy!” My father’s voice boomed behind me, and I tore my eyes away from Hannah to face my family.
Throwing a fake smile on my face, I spun around, pulling my mom into a hug first.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered in my ear.
Some of the guys cried when the final buzzer sounded—reality sinking in that we’d won—but this was the first time tonight that tears threatened behind my own eyes. Blinking furiously, I tried to hold them at bay.
Every set of parents standing on this ice had sacrificed so much so we could be standing here tonight as champions. This victory was as much theirs as it was ours.
Releasing my mom, I could only manage a nod as a lump the size of my fist lodged in my throat.
Dad pulled me into a bear hug, and it became clear he was just as overcome with emotion as I was. There were no words between us, but he poured everything he was feeling into that tight embrace. I could never repay him for the love and support he’d given me as I had chased a seemingly impossible dream.
Next came my nephews. Calvin wasted no time, begging, “Uncle Cal, can I hold the trophy up? Please.”
Ruffling his platinum blond hair, I chastised, “You know the rules, buddy. You can only hoist it up after you win it. It’s bad luck to even touch that beauty if you haven’t.”
Twisting his lips, his shoulders dropped in defeat. “Fine.”
Julian was dead silent, his blue eyes wide in awe as he looked around at the crowd still gathered, cheering almost an hour after we’d officially won.
I feel you, buddy.
Grabbing him, I placed him onto my shoulders and took a lap around the rink, dodging the small family gatherings celebrating on the ice. Holding tight to his legs, I smiled to myself, thinking about the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I was able to give these boys. This would be a story they told their grandkids someday.
Grandkids.
Suddenly, the grief of losing Hannah hit me all over again. She didn’t want kids, and I was cool with that. I was more than willing to give up my legacy for her. We had enough children in our lives that we would be fulfilled being the fun aunt and uncle.
They might be sharing an ice surface right now, but it was a punch to the gut, knowing she’d never formally meet my family. My nephews would never know the incredible hockey mind that was Hannah. She would’ve been their biggest cheerleader at their games, telling them all her tips and tricks.
But I’d messed it all up. I let her father push me around in a moment of weakness, and I would never regret anything more for the rest of my life.
 |
The press waited patiently while the team celebrated privately inside the locker room—spraying champagne over every surface before eventually pouring it into the rounded bowl on top of our new trophy and drinking out of it. But they could only be held at bay for so long, and the highest profile players were trotted out to speak to them in pairs.
Jaxon and I were the first to sit before them as the captain and most senior player on the team, respectively.
The bright lights were blinding. Not only were our local news affiliates in attendance, but also every major national outlet. They would be tracking
our movements over the next few weeks as the world watched us celebrate our championship.
Jaxon was the ultimate diplomat, deflecting every question about his individual performance—including winning MVP—by turning it around to focus on the team effort. He was always good in front of the cameras. Me, not so much.
The first question lobbed my way was loaded as hell. “Cal, what does the future look like for you going forward?”
I knew what she was asking. My contract was up. Everyone wanted to know if I would stay with the Comets or sign with another team. They’d been asking about contract negotiations during almost every post-game press conference since the beginning of the season. I’d dodged it every time, telling them I was focused on what lay directly ahead, but now there was nothing left to do. The season was officially over, and I couldn’t put them off any longer.
At the beginning of the year, nothing would have made me happier than re-signing with the Comets—to finish my career in the same place it started. The thought of team hopping during my final playing years before hanging up my skates had made me physically ill. Tons of guys did it to hang onto the dream, chasing one more year on the ice. Not everyone was lucky to play for one team for the entirety of their career.
Now, the thought of staying here turned my stomach. Seeing Hannah on the ice tonight had done me in. I couldn’t live like this for another few years, if the opportunity presented itself. It would hurt too much to be so close and knowing I’d fucked up so spectacularly. That she was unhappy because of me—because of the false things I said to hurt her and push her away.
I was an old dog now and felt it with the beating my body took every time I skated onto the ice.
Without thinking, I blurted out, “I’ve decided to retire. Tonight’s championship will also mark my last professional game.”
Talk about stealing thunder. The room exploded, a mix of voices talking over each other to ask the next question. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jaxon staring at me, mouth hanging open.
Yeah, I surprised the hell outta myself, too, buddy.
I shrugged at him. I had to get out of Hartford and away from this place that held too many memories of her.
