Page 47 of The Rebound Play

So, yeah. Not a lot of time.

But what time we have spent together has been incredible. Being with Keira is just as I had always imagined it. We get each other. We click. And it’s so much more than simply because we grew up together and dated in high school. We’re soulmates, pure and simple. And it feels amazing to finally be with her after all this time.

“How’s the wrist?” Scotty asks.

I hold up my gloved left hand. “Like new.”

“You sure? The last thing we want is you getting hurt out there. This is only the first game. We need you leading the team for the whole series.”

“I got the all-clear from the PT to play, Coach, and I’m doing good.”

He slaps me on the back. “Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

My teammates and I wait in the tunnel, ready to head out onto the ice when our names are announced. The excitement is palpable. Sure, each player here plays professionally for other teams, some in the NHL, some in the lower leagues, and this series is an unpaid gig which we’re doing for kids in need. We might be the team Troy Hart brought together, but tonight, we’re the Ice Breakers, a real team. And we’re ready to take on our opponent for the first time, the Canadian Lumberjacks.

The familiar and rousing beat of our team song begins to play, and the crowd erupts into excited cheers and applause.

Dawson flashes me a grin. “Remind you of our college days?” he shouts over the noise.

“I don’t remember ‘Ice Ice Baby’ playing back then,” I joke as Vanilla Ice tells us to kick it. “And nor do I remember a dancing otter as our mascot.”

He laughs. “Yeah, what’s with that? But you know I meant you and me, on a team together. I like it.”

I grin back at him. “Yeah. Lots of memories, man. Good memories.”

The emcee announces the first players, and we move up closer to the ice as each guy skates out to uproarious cheers.

“Let’s get out there and smash it,” Dawson says over the noise.

I raise my gloved hand and fist bump his. “You got it.”

“Introducing Ted ‘the Bear’ Powell, defenseman!” the emcee announces and Ted flashes us a grin before he skates out onto the rink to cheers.

“Join me in giving a huge Maple Falls welcome to Dawson Hayes, goalie!” the emcee announces, and I watch as Dawson skates out ahead of me.

Finally, it’s my turn. Being the homegrown hero and the captain, Coach made me go last, knowing I’ll get the biggest reaction from the crowd.

“And finally, tonight, the center for the Chicago Blizzard, a man who needs no introduction, Ice Breakers captain and hometown hero, Dan Roberts, better known as ‘Dan the Man’!”

I step onto the ice to the biggest cheer of the night and look around at a sea of number 29 jerseys, the crowd cheering and screaming my nickname, and banners with “Dan the Man!” “Roberts on Ice, Victory in Sight!” and “Roberts Rules the Ice!” I spot a few supporting the team, “Ice Breakers Freeze the Opposition!” and “Breaking the Ice with the Ice Breakers!” which makes me feel better—it’s not all about me, after all. We’re a team, and every cog in the wheel matters.

I wave at the crowd to more cheers, the buzz electric.

Man! This never gets old. Skating out onto the ice in front of a huge crowd alongside my teammates, knowing we’ve got one another’s backs, vying for the win.

Only this time, the feeling is even better because this time, I’ve got the woman I love out there in the bleachers—the very bleachers she hid beneath only a few short weeks ago—cheering me on, wearing my jersey. I haven’t had that feeling since I played in high school, and it feels fantastic.

I know exactly where she’s sitting and I look up to the section, searching for Keira. My eyes land on her in a sea of number 29 jerseys. She’s grinning and waving at me, her gorgeous blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, the look on her beautiful face filling me with love.

And then the puck drops, and the game is on. I’m at center, eyes locked on McNeil, the cocky Lumberjacks’ star player. He’s got control, weaving through our defense like a snake, just as he has in countless games I’ve played against him in the League.

But then Nate intercepts McNeil’s pass with a deft flick of his stick. The crowd roars as he bolts down the ice, threading through defenders like they’re standing still. He eyes Cooper and passes the puck with pinpoint accuracy as I get into position, hoping for my own shot at a goal. With a quick glance, Cooper sends the puck my way, gliding smoothly, and I catch it with my stick. Time slows as I line up my shot, laser-focused. I can almost see the goalie’s eyes widen, and I spot my opening.

I strike.

It’s as though the entire arena is holding its collective breath as the puck sails past the goalie’s outstretched glove, slamming into the back of the net with a satisfying whack! The red light flashes. It’s a goal!