Chapter Thirty-Two
Beck
Here I was playing in the regional final, just like I’d dreamed of doing since the start of the season, and I couldn’t summon up an ounce of happiness. We’d won yesterday’s game in overtime, thanks to a goal I’d made—a moment that should’ve been one of the best of my life—and it’d felt empty.
Since everything fell apart with Lyla, I felt empty all the damn time.
Instinct and years of training had gotten me to this point, but at this level, autopilot wasn’t cutting it anymore. Last period I’d made sloppy mistakes, and UMass had caught up with less than a minute left in the game.
The ref blew the whistle—time out, our side. Good. I need a minute. Although I’ll probably just get chewed out.
As I skated toward the bench, I tried to shake away the thoughts dragging me down. Come on, head in the game. Don’t think about her or you’ll finish falling apart.
In spite of the weak pep talk, my gaze went to the stands. I’d stupidly scanned them before the game, hoping Lyla would miraculously show up. That she’d somehow know I needed her to be here and come to the DCU Arena to make playing seem worth it.
Of course she wasn’t there, though—why would she be?
I thought about the evening we’d played hockey over spring break. How she’d known the perfect distraction to make me forget about everything else. How she’d joked that she had a future in the NHL, and I told her it would be cheering for me in the stands.
Pain lanced my heart. Instead of stepping away from the edge, I dove over. Thought about how she’d held my hand and encouraged me to not give up on my dreams. Ever since I’d found out Dad wasn’t who I’d thought he was, I wondered why I’d give up what I wanted so he could have what he wanted. I was working to push past the bitterness and make peace with it, but the more I thought about it, the more I considered Lyla’s assertion that my dad would choose my happiness over resenting a company he’d poured his heart and soul into. I also thought maybe she was right about keeping my options open.
Hell, what was I saying? She was right. Right about everything. I’d used my parents’ disastrous relationship as an excuse and withdrawn when I should’ve fought for us. I’d been so sure I couldn’t love her the way she deserved. But weeks away hadn’t changed the way I felt about her. If anything, it only made me realize how much I loved her, and just how powerful love could be. I didn’t know exactly what had happened with my parents’ relationship or when it’d broken, but it didn’t matter. Their mistakes—being scared—they were lame reasons not to take a chance with Lyla.
Lyla, who’d held me together when I was on the verge of falling apart. She knew the good and the bad, and she somehow loved me anyway.
She made me believe love was worth fighting for, and I just…I needed her. More than I’d ever needed anything, including hockey.
The revelation nearly sent me to my knees, especially since I’d ruined things so badly I wasn’t sure I even had a chance at redeeming myself.
“Davenport?” Coach barked, and my teammates parted to leave me front and center.
Shit. I have no idea what he’s been saying. “Yeah, Coach?”
“This is the last shot, and I need your head in the game. Do you even want this?”
I sucked in a deep breath, the cold air battling the heat blasting through me. Time to get your shit together, Davenport. No more cop-outs, no halfway. All in.
“Yes, sir! I’ll put it in, Coach.”
He batted me on the side of the head, told my teammates to get me the puck and block, and then it was time to make things happen. First I’d lead my team to victory, and then I’d fix everything else, no matter what it took.
My world zeroed in to my blades against the ice, the hockey stick in my hands, and the puck. My breaths sounded loud in my helmet. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and every muscle tensed, ready to spring into action.
The whistle blew, the puck hit the ice.
The defenders read the play and one of the UMass guys intercepted. I raced toward the swarm of bodies, focused on stopping them from scoring at all costs. Jeff stole the puck away and passed it to me. Cradling it with the end of my stick, I spun and made a fast break for our goal.
One point away from the Frozen Four.
One point till I could start putting the broken pieces of my life back together.
The seconds had to be in the single digit range now, so I pushed harder. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the red and blue jersey of number 25. I threw out my elbow and he slapped at me, our sticks slamming together. But I still had the puck.
Using every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed forward, gaining speed, the goalie now the only thing between me and the net. I faked right, then aimed for the left corner and swung…
The goalie dove for it, spreading his legs and arms wide.
The puck slid through, crossing the line a mere second before the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game. Sirens erupted, along with cheers from the crowd. The team rushed me, swarming the ice, and for a moment, I could hardly believe it. We’d done it. We were in the Frozen Four, with a chance at becoming national champions.
Cheers and the high of winning filled the locker room air, and the rest of the guys continued to celebrate as I rushed to shower and dress. When I burst out of the locker room, a large crowd waited. My phone bumped my thigh with every step, a steady reminder that my night was only beginning. The images on there had tortured me for days, but now I planned on using them to help make my case—I was going to need all the help I could get, and I was afraid it still wouldn’t be enough.
If she won’t give me another shot… I immediately shut down that thought, because I couldn’t deal with even the possibility, not now that I knew how empty my life was without her. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it, no matter how long it takes.
“Beckett!” Megan barreled into me and I hugged her tight. Aunt Tessa nodded from behind her, looking completely out of place, but she’d come anyway. Ever since finding out the truth about Dad, she seemed to be trying extra hard with Megan and me. She’d even apologized for the things she’d said about Lyla and Mom, which I could tell had been hard for her to do.
“That was seriously awesome,” Megan said. “I’ll admit I covered my eyes there at the end, because I was so scared it wouldn’t go in, but I saw the replay, and wow. I’m really happy for you. Still a tiny bit annoyed about other things, but happy.”
Of course she had to get in that last jab. “Thanks,” I said, and then I ruffled her hair since I knew she thought she was too old for it. On cue, she batted my hand away.
A man in his mid-thirties approached us. Through the years, I’d gotten pretty good at telling who the scouts were, and this guy fit the profile. The skill checklists in his hand confirmed it. The fact that he had on a Bruins cap sent my nerves into overdrive, and after the beating they’d taken during the game, short-circuiting was sure to follow. I needed to get it under control, because I didn’t have time for that.
“Great game,” he said, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Jeremy Alexander. Been watching you play for a while.”
The line between my brain and mouth must’ve shorted out, too. I shook his hand, incapable of speech.
“That last period was a bit better than the first two.”
Finally I found my voice. “Yes, sir.”
“The pressure can mess with your head, but you pulled out of it when it mattered.”
I wondered what he’d do if I said it wasn’t the pressure, it was because of a girl. And that she was the same reason I’d turned it around there at the end, too. Even when she wasn’t with me, she was. God, I’d been so stupid and blind.
The rest of the team spilled out, and their family and friends pushed in to see them, interrupting the conversation.
Under other circumstances, I would’ve tried to chat for a while and celebrate more with my boys, but my skin felt too tight and my feet grew desperate to bolt. The girl I loved was out there, and I needed to find her—I didn’t want to waste one more day not having Lyla in my life. Funny how the thought of being denied a committed relationship now scared me a hundred times more than the alternative.
“Nice meeting you,” I said to the scout, backing away before I got gridlocked and stuck here any longer. I turned to Megan and Aunt Tessa. “Thanks for coming to the game. But I gotta go.”
I only hoped I wasn’t too late.