I simply shrugged. “He needs this.”
“You’re lucky I’ve got such a high opinion of you, Dr.Cain.” He pushed off and turned towards the ice. “Want to watch from the tunnel?”
I smiled, softly, “Yeah.”
From behind the plexiglass, we watched as Brett came at the ice with a vengeance. The announcers talked faster and faster. Brett and one of his teammates passed the puck effortlessly back and forth. The teammate took a shot and scored. The arena cheered. Once again, the game was tied.
The announcers commented, “McCarron couldn’t hold that one off, could he?”
“No sir. The Beauty is earning his name tonight for sure.”
“He has perfect flow. Maybe taking a moment off the ice has put him in the mindset to win.”
“To be fair, Kyle, I think the Bruins did him a little dirty tonight.”
“Bad call on the refs. But good for Barringer getting a little time in the locker room.”
They continued to comment on the plays. Soon, they called out less than a minute on the clock.
Ryan turned to me. “Does he know?”
I kept my eyes on the game. “No.”
He laughed. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I didn’t want vengeance to be what fueled him.”
When he didn’t immediately say anything, I turned to look at him. He was smiling at me. “You love him.”
“Shhhh. The game’s almost over.”
He simply laughed.
The announcers called every second of the game now. I could barely hear my own thoughts over the roar of the crowd. The players were a scurry of color. To the untrained eye, it would be hard to keep up with the plays. To me, it was poetry. The Kraken constantly passed the puck in order to keep it away from the Bruins. Brett played back like he was going to attempt a breakaway.
The clock was in the seconds now, moving faster to the end of the game. I bounced up and down, nervously holding my fists to my mouth.
Five seconds. My eyes darted from the ice to the clock. The announcers’ voices merged with the roar of the crowd as one of the Kraken made a breakaway from the center of the ice.
Four seconds. The player with the puck made a play to pass up through the center.
Three seconds. Suddenly, the player turned.
Two seconds. Brett made a play up the rail. The player made a back pass to Brett.
One second. With a force that said he had nothing to lose, Brett struck the puck. Time stilled. A collective hush followed the puck. Everyone watched as he put it right in the net.
Eruption in the stands. The Kraken had won the Stanley Cup, and Brett had scored the final goal.
Tears fell. Laughter and disbelief mixed with joy. Ryan hugged me. People next to me that I didn’t know hugged me. The crowd was a sea of smiles, with the occasional sulky Bruins fan.
Brett held his hockey stick in the air. The rest of the team climbed over the rail to circle him, shouting.
They surrounded him. A mass of hockey skates, men and sticks, huddled together in mutual joy. I watched as he struggled to break free from his team and skated over to me. He slammed himself into the plexiglass and smiled at me. I made a heart with my hands.
Over the top of his head, I watched Clay skate off the ice. My sister sat with tears in her eyes. As Clay passed her into the Bruins tunnel, she mouthed to him, “I love you.”
The way she’d betrayed me hurt less than it had a few months ago. I didn’t know if I would ever completely forgive her. But, in a way, she’d led me to Brett. And for that, I wouldn’t complain.