Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

Attached to the email is the resume I supposedly sent through, but when I open it up and follow the chain of forwards back through Foster’s email, it leads to—Seth’s email address?

What the fuck is going on?

“Suit up,” Coach Hogan says. “You’ve got one hell of a fight tonight, but I have faith in each and every one of you that we can do it.”

But when we suit up and get out there, it’s obvious in the first period that Coach’s faith is misplaced. By, like, a lot.

From the time the puck drops, we scramble to find the net. Hell, we scramble to find each other in this mess.

Rossi has taken center on our line, but because Coach has been pushing Asher on us, it’s been a while since we’ve even practiced together. We’re not in sync.

Boston scores in the first few minutes of the game, and it only goes downhill from there.

It’s not even close. It’s a slaughter.

I get slammed into the boards during an illegal body check, and the ref doesn’t call it. Jacobs trips a Boston defenseman and gives them a power play. We try to put up a good fight, but the other team is so together, I imagine it looks like they’re swatting us away like flies.

The second period isn’t any better, though Jacobs and I manage to put one past their goalie. Honestly, it’s a fluke and not intentional, but fuck, we’ll take it.

Everything is going wrong, and by the time the timer winds down in the second, we’re all defeated.

The score is 6-1, and there’s no coming back from that.

This is my last game I get to play, and with it, my world as I know it comes crumbling down. My future has arrived, and I’m not fucking ready.

31

Seth

What the hell was that?

In all the years I’ve watched hockey, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a team so completely out of their element as the game I just witnessed. My heart is heavy as I wait for Richie, realizing that not only did he lose his final ever game, but he got his ass handed to him. Even Zach was able to read the room and decided to take an Uber back to the hotel without me.

I can’t begin to imagine how hard this is going to be on Richie. I’m so grateful we came down for the game so I can be here for him.

The team finally starts to file out of the arena, looking dead tired and defeated. Jacobs gives me a brief nod before stomping past, but most of the others ignore me, too wrapped up in the mess that was the final game of their season.

Richie appears a few minutes after everyone else. His shoulders are slumped, hair still wet from the shower, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re tinged red. I don’t think he’s been crying, but he doesn’t look okay.

“Shit …” I hurry over to him. I go to pull him to me, to smother him in all of my support, but he abruptly steps away. I’m frozen for a moment, arms outstretched, before I let them drop. “Are you okay?”

He grunts and keeps walking while I scramble to catch up.

And I mean, shit, I’d known he’d be upset, but this is next-level. He won’t look at me, and his strides are just that bit too long and fast for me to keep up with him.

“Richie?” No answer. “Richie?”

Richie finally stops, back still to me, and the weirdest, most unwelcome feeling sweeps over me. I can’t help but feel tension rolling off him—toward me.

I’m not sure whether to move closer or not, and this uncertainty, the second-guessing, isn’t something I’ve had to worry about recently. Richie’s never made me feel insecure, not like this.

I swallow thickly. “I’ve got my car if you want a ride.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to head back with the team.”

My heart spasms, and I remind myself not to panic. He lost a game that was important to him. That’s all. This is clearly what he’s like when he’s disappointed. It has nothing to do with me … right? “If you’re sure …”

He gives one sharp nod before turning to say over his shoulder, “I need to be alone right now. There’s … I have some things I need to think about.”

And then he leaves me standing there, in the middle of the parking lot, as I watch the team bus roar to life and pull away.

Of all the situations I’d imagined when Richie walked through those doors, that one wasn’t even on my radar. Everything I’d pictured had Richie in various stages of upset, but in every damn one, he’d turned to me to console him.

I’m numb as I unlock my car and drive back to the hotel, and the feeling doesn’t go away as I walk inside and take the elevator to my floor. Or when I reach my room and drop onto my bed.