The coach’s words washed over Jake. He couldn’t concentrate. Emotions ricocheted through his body. Anticipation. Dread. Determination.
And a burning in his gut to get out there and play.
The weight of Adam’s lucky penny—a gift from his friend’s mom—hung heavy around his neck beneath his sweater. As the talk ended, players checked their gear and psyched themselves up. Adrenaline gave the air an electric feel.
The clock clicked past three minutes.
This was it.
Jake’s pulse kicked up a gear. A familiar roaring filled his ears.
The captain, Scotty Matthews, rose and went to stand by the door, his expression fierce. “Let’s go out there and show them the Ice Cats play the best damn hockey in the world.”
Ike joined him. The goaltender would lead the team out; Scotty was always the last man. Pride swelled in Jake’s chest as he and Tru stood behind Ike.
With 1:59 glowing red on the clock, the doors swung open and Ike strode out. He tapped the door frame with his stick for luck. Tru and Jake did the same, and their teammates followed. They entered the short tunnel. The bright lights of the arena shone like a welcoming beacon, bringing them home to the ice.
“Please welcome your New Jersey Ice Cats.” The announcer’s voice reverberated around the building as the fans stomped and cheered.
Jake inhaled, letting the crisp air penetrate his lungs, then stepped out onto the ice. Immediately, the noise of the crowd muffled while the scrape of blades amplified.
His heart pounded.
As always, he skated round the net twice anticlockwise, then twice clockwise. Before taking his position on the blue line, he tapped his stick against Ike’s goaltender pads.
“Good game, bro.”
Ike nodded. “You, too.”
Joining the rest of the Cats’ starting line, Jake removed his helmet, and since they were playing a Canadian team, waited for the two national anthems to be sung. He moved his skates back and forth, unable to keep still.
“Maggie’s here,” Tru muttered, beneath “O Canada.”
Jake’s gaze shot to the glass behind the Cats’ goal for his allocated seats. There. Next to his parents. He’d hoped she’d come but hadn’t believed she’d show.
He hadn’t seen or spoken to her since that breakfast. He could blame having been on the road, but that was a poor excuse. Truth was, he hadn’t known what to say to make things right between them.
Her presence had to be a good sign.
As the singer began “The Star-Spangled Banner,” Jake’s eyes drank in the sight of Maggie.
Her gaze met his. Good luck, she mouthed. Joy filled him. A surge of energy charged through his veins. Jake flashed her a grin as cheers drowned out the final notes of the anthem.
“Move it, Romeo,” Tru teased as players took their positions for the opening face-off.
Jake replaced his helmet and skated into position.
In the seconds before the puck dropped, time slowed.
His senses went on alert. His muscles tensed.
His gaze focused and narrowed.
The linesman leaned over and released the biscuit. Inch by inch, it dropped to the ice.
Action exploded.
Jake was back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WELCOME BACK, Bad Boy.”
Tarkov, Ottawa’s high-scoring left-winger grunted as he and Jake clashed in the corner.
Jake crunched him to the boards, swiped the puck and shot it across the ice to Tru. “Good to be back.”
Within seconds, the Senators had possession once more and Jake and the Russian resumed their battle.
“I won’t take it so easy on you in the second,” Tarkov taunted as he hip checked Jake.
“You and which army?”
“Stemgarder.”
Jake’s response about the opposition’s goon was blunt and coarse. Again, he stripped Tarkov of the puck. He passed it to Juergen, whose slap shot rebounded off the crossbar and flew high into the netting, stopping play.
As Jake skated to the bench, he passed Stemgarder. They exchanged glares; they’d never liked each other. While he waited for the TV break to finish, he glanced across at the stands. Maggie was frowning.
He didn’t have time to consider why, as his shift was called.
When Tarkov skated toward the Cats’ goal, Jake cut him off. They collided and the Russian ate ice. Grinning, Jake skated behind the net ready to start a rush back the other way. As he did, his gaze strayed to Maggie.
She looked annoyed. Why?
During that momentary lapse in concentration, Tarkov took the puck off his blade and chipped it behind Ike for a score.
“Damn it, Jake.” Ike was furious. “Concentrate on the game, not your girlfriend.”
Jake tapped his friend’s pads in apology and skated to the bench.
The horn went for the end of the period. The Cats trooped off toward their locker room, giving him heat for his stupid mistake. While the coach talked tactics for the second period, Jake tried to get his head back in the game.