Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

And in the end, I suppose that is all that truly mattered.

Regardless of how bad it hurt.

21

Sawyer

I must have been hallucinating. One moment I could have sworn I saw Echo standing in the family box, and the next time I had a chance to look up—she was gone.

There was no way she’d come all the way to Vegas, not when that meant leaving Scythe for more than a few hours. And my mind must have had a good time playing tricks on me because I knew there was no fucking way she’d show up in my Reaper hoodie. No way she’d actually put my name across her back.

Jesus, I missed her so badly that I was hallucinating about her during the biggest game of my life.

“You okay?” Axel asked over the roar of the crowd.

“I’m good.” I had more than enough adrenaline to finish out the game, much to Zimmerman’s frustration. Guy had been chomping at the bit to get out here.

“Two more minutes, McCoy. Just hold them off for two more minutes.” He dropped his fist twice on my shoulder pads and skated off to center ice for another face-off.

We were up by one.

I blocked it all out. The noise from the crowd. The bright lights. The hammering on the glass behind me. The fact that in two minutes we’d either be devastated, headed into overtime, or Stanley Cup champions.

As much as I knew I should memorize everything about this moment—chances were it would never come again—I also knew that letting my thoughts drift from the game would ensure our loss.

The puck dropped, and my world narrowed to the ice and the game I’d always loved.

For the first minute, we were on the offensive, and the puck stayed in the Las Vegas zone. I kept my attention on their forwards, knowing that the game could change in a flash, and they could be on me in less than ten seconds.

The whistle blew again, but my heart didn’t ease up. The atmosphere in the arena was electric, and I let myself glance up at the clock. Fifty seconds to go.

Puck dropped in their zone. Cannon sent someone into the boards. Axel took the puck. Lukas caught the pass.

Las Vegas stole it right off his stick and came at me.

I came out of the net at his approach. Ward challenged and lost. Connell was on the other side of the ice, charging hard as the crowd started to count down the ten-second mark. The forward swept behind me, and I pivoted to keep track of the puck. Connell checked the guy hard, but he fired off a pass just before he hit the glass.

Another Las Vegas forward spun around Ward, caught the pass and fired in the time it took for my heart to beat just once.

The puck flew so fucking fast.

I reached out with my glove, knowing that every millimeter mattered.

The buzzer rang.

The arena fell silent as seventeen thousand fans waited, their eyes solely on me.

I rotated my wrist, dropping the puck from my glove to the ice outside my net.

Roars filled my ears. Arms engulfed me. Helmets and gloves flew.

“Holy shite! We did it!” Connell’s voice was accompanied by so many others they crashed into me, sending us all—including the net—into the boards.

The joy was indescribable, pulsing through my veins like a drug, swelling my heart until I knew that this moment would be one I dreamed about for years to come.

The shouts died down, and when I had enough space to move, I took off my own helmet.

What followed was a blur. Someone handed me a hat. A shirt was thrown over my shoulder. Axel hoisted the cup. My smile was so wide I thought my jaw might crack as I laid on my side to take the team picture.

It was heaven. Pure heaven.

Eventually we came off the ice.

The guys were met with enthusiastic embraces from their wives. Their girlfriends. Their families. And the small, irrational part of me that had hoped she’d come, overtook the joy until it all felt empty.

I missed her so much that I’d imagined she was there, standing proud. The reality was sobering, heartbreaking even in the midst of so much joy.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come out?” Connell asked in the hotel lobby. “It’s not every day you can tell a woman you’ve just won the Stanley Cup.” He grinned and threw a wink at two blondes passing us in the tight space by the elevators.

Truth was, I did want to celebrate. But I didn’t want anyone but Echo, and since she wasn’t here, going out with Connell wouldn’t really solve my problem.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I promised and punched the button to call the elevator.

“Sawyer!” I turned at the sound of Harper calling my name as she pushed through the crowd. She hugged me tightly, and a little of the numbing chill I’d felt since leaving the ice dissipated. “I’m so proud of you!”