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I let out a big sigh, my gaze jumping between both of them. “It’s tonight. I have no idea how I could make it. There’s not going to be a single flight that’ll land in time.” Defeat rattles my chest.
“I’m sorry,” Brittany sympathizes.
I glance over to Garrett, who’s since gone quiet.
And he’s grinning.
Chapter Thirty
Cameron
It’s the last game of the season before playoffs. And my head is a mess.
“You got this,” Dad tells me as we stand outside of the locker room. “Just keep your head in the game and don’t think about anything else.”
I nod. “I know. I got this.”
He grins, patting my shoulder. “I’m glad everything worked out the way it should. The whole mess was just a blip in a long career. Playoffs are right around the corner, and I know you’re gonna kill it.”
“Absolutely,” I choke out, my stomach full of nerves.
“You can do this,” he says one more time. “I’ll see ya on the ice.” With that, he turns to go, heading for the front of the rink entrance.
I head into the locker room, my mind running a hundred miles an hour as I strip down and ready myself. I block out everyone and everything, just like always. I know the plan. I know the opposing team’s strengths and weaknesses.
I can do this.
“Dude, you look like you’re about to be sick,” Blaze says as he puts his street clothes into his duffel bag. “You sure you’re good to play?”
I glance over at him, seeing the concern written all over his face. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I just need to get out there and my head will level out.”
“I hope that’s what happens.” Dylan steps into the locker room, his face twisted as he takes me in. I must look pretty bad—especially if Dylan is the one commenting. “You look rough, Hastens.”
“I’ll be fine,” I snap. “Like I said, I just need to get back out on the ice.”
“Okay.” He puts his hands up in surrender and returns to readying himself.
It’s going to be alright.
It will be.
But the moment I’m out on the ice, my head is spinning even harder. I can barely breathe as they make it through the opening ceremonies for the game.
I can’t bring myself to look up into the cheering crowd. I don’t even try to spot my dad and his new love.
A hand comes down on my shoulder. “If you need to sit this out, you tell me.”
I turn to Coach Wilson and shake my head. “I don’t think that’ll fix it.”
“I know, but I can tell you’re not mentally here, son.”
I don’t want to argue with him, but I don’t want to be benched, either. “I’ll be fine.” They call for the game to start and I pull my helmet down over my face, skating out to my position.
I’m front and center for the Glaciers. I’m good at what I do. The crowd is cheering, which has always been fuel to my fire. I should be feeling more alive than ever right now, but I’m not.
What’s wrong with me?
I shut my eyes for a moment, and she is all I can see—perched up in the stands and watching me at practice. It’s the last game of the season, and I want her to be here. I want to skate over and kiss her when the game is over, whether we win or lose.
