Home Ice.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Finn

Overtime in Game 6 of the Final with the Stanley Cup on the line.

This is a situation that hockey kids dream about. Hell, I've dreamed about it. I've also always been self aware enough to know that my anxiety would be through the roof in a scenario like this and the plus side is - I know who I am.

Because I am fucking terrified.

That last goal from the Bruins was so nice, it felt like a stab to the chest. There was no way for our goalie to stop it. It would've been nice for Boston to roll over and show their tummies but their fight will just make the win feel so much sweeter.

We're five minutes into OT and both teams are going hard. You can hear the harsh breaths from the guys who get off the ice from down the bench but our coach is quiet. He has faith in us. He knows what we're capable of and he knows that yelling and shouting critiques and changes won't help. The only time he opens his mouth is to encourage us and remind us who the hell we are.

It feels good to play this game on home ice. To be home with every single person I love in the building. To be home with the fans who have stood by us from day one of this organization. It makes us want it even more, if that were even possible.

Our guys are putting a lot of pressure on the Bruins, so much so that my breath is caught in my throat and I shoot to my feet when I think we're about to score. I can't even sit back down when we don't because my muscles are so wound tight with tension.

I'm jumping from skate to skate, literally vibrating with the need to go back out there and work. It's a feeling like I've never had before. I've always felt called to the ice, but this is different. If it wouldn't cost us, I would jump on right now.

But that's not how the game works, unfortunately, so I just keep bouncing in my place and count down the seconds until it's my turn. My eyes are watching the guy I'm switching with like a damn hawk.

Casey's big body stands up next to me and he shoves my shoulder with his but I don't dare take my eyes off the ice. Neither does he as he says, "You feel it too, right?"

"Yeah," I say with a long, deep breath and for the first time, I utter the words I would typically never say in fear of jinxing it. "We're going to win."

Casey's guy gets to the bench first and he swings his legs over and jumps in instantly. The play is happening in the neutral zone, so it's hard to get a full line change in motion. I'm sitting on the ledge now, my leg shaking as my guy stays involved out of necessity.

"Come on..." I mutter and by the grace of the universe, the puck is away from him and he darts to the bench to climb in while I throw myself on the ice.

Let's fucking do this.

We're back in our zone on defense but only for a few seconds before one of our defensemen makes a hell of a block. He falls to the ground after taking the slapshot to the knee but I can't be worried about him because one of our other forwards snags the puck and snaps a pass to Casey.

We turn on a dime like we have for years, a synchronicity that I've never had with anyone else. I'm faster than him so I have to lessen my stride for a moment while we breakaway into our zone so I don't cross the blue line before him but hell, I've never seen Casey skate so fast in my life.

I can see the defenseman putting his all into his skate to catch up with us. He's on our tails but it doesn't matter. Right now, it's just me and Casey.

I know it's loud in here. I can see the fans shaking the glass and I can feel the ice literally vibrating beneath my skates but it's like the sound just drowned out. It almost feels like an unfair advantage that I feel like someone just slowed down time. I know time is ticking the same, I know that my brain is firing faster than I can comprehend, but when my eyes lock with Casey's the moment before he passes me the puck - I feel like I have all the time in the world.