Goals & Glucose |18+|

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"Being strong means pushing through, even when no one sees the fight." -Anonymous

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MILO

"You good, Lazare?" Kade, my teammate and best friend, asked, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah, man. I'm good," I replied, unlacing my skates on the locker room bench as the other players filtered in.

"Good." He patted my shoulder before heading to his locker.

I was constantly asked if I was okay, if I needed a break. And honestly, I was sick of it. I don't need to be babied—I have diabetes, not the plague. I knew they asked because they cared, but I wished they didn't.

Practice had been brutal, and Coach finally let us go. We had a big game coming up Friday night against the Minnesota Golden Gophers. A stupid name for a team—and the players lived up to it. This was my senior year, and I'd be damned if we lost our undefeated streak to the Gophers.

I checked my CGM—glucose levels were dropping. I grabbed a Powerade from my locker, chugged it, then hit the showers.

By the time I was done, the locker room was empty. I changed into a pair of joggers and a 'Fighting Hawks' T-shirt. It was almost five, so I placed an order for some chicken Alfredo and breadsticks. Then I headed back to the "hockey house," where all the starters lived: me, Kade, Sawyer, Liam, Carson, and Levi. I was the goalie, Kade was center and captain, Sawyer left wing, Liam right, and Carson and Levi were defensemen. We'd all met freshman year and had been tight ever since. Funny enough, we were all drafted to play for the Blackhawks.

As much as I tried not to let diabetes control my life, it did. I had to constantly calculate my insulin before meals, make sure my levels stayed in range during practice, and set my CGM to alert me if they spiked or dropped overnight. It sucked. Worst of all was hiding my insulin pump to avoid questions. The only girl I'd ever dated ghosted me when she found out. Everyone seemed to think diabetes was contagious or something. It was infuriating to be treated like I was fragile when I was 6'4" and jacked.

Coach didn't let it stop him from pushing me, though. He had me going to every press event to keep up a "good image." I didn't want an image—I just wanted to play hockey.

When I got back to the house, I dropped my bag in my room and went downstairs to wait for my food. After adjusting my insulin through the bolus calculator, I grabbed the delivery, thanked the driver, and sat at the kitchen island to eat while checking the practice schedule on my phone.

"Hey, Milo!" Kiara, Kade's younger sister, greeted me.

I Nodded, distracted. She and Sawyer had some sort of thing going on, which was wild to me. Even though she was only a year younger, I still saw her as a little sister. She was studying to be a nurse, and with her bubbly personality, pediatrics suited her.

Levi and Carson were in the living room, locked in a video game battle. Everyone else was probably upstairs doing homework—it was Monday, after all.

After dinner, I went upstairs to finish my own homework for my physiology class. I was working on my bachelor's in sports management. Even if I went pro, I wanted something to fall back on.

Before bed, I kept an eye on my glucose levels and set my alarms. Then, I crashed.

-

By Thursday morning, Coach had been hard on us all week, but he'd given us a break to make sure we were ready for the big game. I only had one class in the afternoon, so after changing my pump and having breakfast, I headed to the gym.

Post-workout, I showered and dressed in something more professional—I was meeting my parents for lunch.

Mom taught first grade, and Dad owned an exterminating company. They lived about an hour from campus, so we met halfway at a diner—the same one where they'd first met. Mom had been a waitress, and Dad was a student at UND before dropping out to support his family after my grandpa died. We tried to meet up once a month, but life was hectic.

When I walked in, the bell chimed softly, and I spotted them in a corner booth. Mom's face lit up when she saw me. I slid into the booth, and an older waitress came to take our orders. I went for a burger and a side salad to keep my glucose in check.

As we caught up, I adjusted my insulin pump under the table.

"So... are you seeing anyone?" Mom asked, her go-to question.

Dad sighed, giving me a look of sympathy.

"No, I'm focused on hockey and school." Same answer every time, and it usually made her change the subject.

"How's work?" I asked, turning the conversation to both of them.

"Business is good," Dad said. "Picked up a lot of new clients now that the seasons are changing."

Mom smiled. "I don't know if I told you, but I have a student this year—Carter. He's obsessed with hockey. I was wondering if you could come to the school sometime to visit?"

"Sure. Does he have a favorite player?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, he'll want to tell you himself! He can recite every Stanley Cup team and score by heart. He has autism, and hockey is his special interest," she said, clearly proud.

"Wow, that's impressive." I was about to offer to bring some merch for her class when the waitress arrived with our food.

We ate while chatting about hockey, classes, and the usual family stuff. After we said our goodbyes, I headed back to campus just in time for my afternoon class.

It dragged on, as expected. By the time I got home, one of the guys had ordered pizza, so we hung out—it had become a bit of a pre-game ritual to make sure we were all in sync.

After hanging out for a while, I headed up to my room, feeling a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. The game was tomorrow, and the pressure was mounting. We were undefeated so far, and I didn't want to be the one to screw it up. My CGM beeped again—my blood sugar had dipped. I grabbed a granola bar from my nightstand and checked my levels, making a quick adjustment.

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would either be a day to remember or one to forget. My mind raced through the usual pre-game checklist—making sure my equipment was ready, visualizing saves, running through strategies. I had trained my entire life for this moment, and I wasn't going to let anything—not even my diabetes—get in the way.

There was a knock at my door. Kade poked his head in. "You ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I said, sitting up. "More than ready."

He gave a quick nod, understanding the weight behind those words. "See you in the morning. We've got this."

As he closed the door, I set my alarms, triple-checked my pump, and lay back down. My phone buzzed with a message from my mom wishing me luck.

I set my phone aside and closed my eyes, trying to calm my mind. Sleep eventually claimed me, but even in my dreams, I was on the ice—focused, driven, unstoppable.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hi babes,

Hehe first chappy done, I swear it get better I have a love- hate relationship with starting books, please at least try to get to the fifth chapter! Thank you for reading!

QOTD:

If you were a color, which one would you be and why?