Unconditionally

Are You Ready For It?

Arnold's POV

As the grand final approached, the intensity in the air was palpable. The crowd roared louder than ever, a wall of sound echoing through the arena. This was it—the culmination of months of hard work and sacrifice. Skating onto the ice, I couldn't ignore the weight of it all. This game was more than just a match; it was everything.

Jordan, as always, was hyped, yelling to rally the team. "Let's make this one count, boys!" he shouted, slapping Enzo's back. Enzo just grinned, calm as ever, like he had ice in his veins. His unshakable demeanor kept the rest of us grounded.

Coach's last-minute pep talk echoed in my mind. "Leave it all on the ice. Every. Single. Thing."

But in the quiet moments before the puck dropped, my thoughts drifted to Stella. Knowing she was in the stands with her friends, cheering me on, gave me an extra push. She had been my anchor through everything—Dad's accident, the pressure from my family, the ups and downs of the season. Every time I felt like I couldn't keep going, I thought of her.

The game kicked off, and everything blurred into a chaotic ballet of speed and precision. The opposing team was relentless, but we were sharper. Jordan charged down the ice like he had been shot out of a cannon, moving faster than I'd ever seen. He weaved around defenders effortlessly, delivering crisp passes, and creating plays like it was second nature.

Meanwhile, Enzo held the defense together with his usual quiet mastery, blocking shots and shutting down every attack that came our way. His positioning was impeccable, like he could see the play unfold three steps ahead of anyone else.

But even as I focused on every pass, every hit, I could feel the pressure building. It was a tight game, and no one was giving an inch. Halfway through the third period, it was still tied. 2-2.

I took a deep breath, trying to drown out the weight of the moment. The puck slid toward me, and I took off, weaving between defenders. I glanced at Jordan, already sprinting toward the goal. He nodded—a silent understanding between us. I sent the puck his way, and he fired it toward the net, but their goalie was ready, deflecting it with a sharp save.

I cursed under my breath as the puck bounced out, right into the hands of the other team. They pushed forward, driving it toward our end, but Enzo was there, blocking their lead skater with a perfect hit. The crowd erupted in cheers, but I barely heard it. All I could think about was the next play.

With just a minute left on the clock, the game was still tied. I skated back toward the bench, exhaustion clawing at my muscles. Coach Mitchell was pacing, barking orders to the rest of the team. "Get it together, boys! Don't let them get inside your head."

As I bent over to catch my breath, my eyes flickered up to the stands again, scanning for her. And there she was—Stella. She had her eyes locked on me, giving me that soft, supportive smile that always calmed the storm inside me. In that moment, I knew. I had to win this game—not for my family, not for Coach, not even for the scouts. But for her. For us.

With renewed energy, I jumped back onto the ice for the final face-off. The puck dropped, and the arena exploded into motion. I battled for control, skating harder than I ever had before. Everything else faded into the background—the noise, the pressure, the expectations. It was just me, the puck, and the net.

I broke through their defense and passed to Jordan, who gave me a sly grin as he set up the perfect screen. I took the shot.

Time seemed to slow as the puck soared toward the net. The goalie lunged, but he was too late.

Goal.

The stadium erupted, the sound crashing around us like a tidal wave. We did it. We won. My teammates rushed toward me, celebrating wildly, but I couldn't focus on any of it. I was already looking up at the stands, searching for Stella.

When our eyes met, everything else melted away. I skated toward her, my heart pounding, feeling like I had just won something far bigger than a championship.