Page 29 of The Shot You Missed
Every once in a while, when the puck is in play down in the Warrior’s defensive zone, I’ll feel his eyes on me. Lola and I were in our seats—well, Sebastian’s seats—for warm-ups, so he saw us and waved. He knows we’re here, and I hope I’m not the reason he missed stopping that goal in the first.
I don’t want to be the reason he’s distracted.
“Come on, guys!” Lola shouts, drawing my attention away from Bash and back to the action happening down by the Warriors’ goal. The Rogues’ center, Maddox Graves, fights for control against one of New York’s defensemen, while Griffin and Logan work to position themselves to attempt a shot.
The sharpcrackof the puck being passed around slices through the rest of the noise in the arena. From Maddox to Griffin to Logan, then back to Maddox. He draws his stick back and takes a shot, which New York’s goalie deflects with his stick. But Logan is right there, ready to take the rebound. And when the opportunity arrives, he doesn’t hesitate.
“Fuck yeah,” I scream, jumping to my feet along with Lola and the rest of the hometown fans. Turning to my best friend, we hug and jump in place while the siren blares, the lights flash, and the guys pile around Logan to celebrate with him. Sebastian celebrates with Ryder Hanson, then the two teams are facing off once again at center ice.
The pace of the game picks up from there.
New York plays more aggressively, and the hits grow harder. The crowd boos when Wright gets a two-minute penalty for roughing, but we cheer when the Rogues make it through the penalty kill without giving up any goals.
“Your boy’s a beast,” Lola shouts when Bash deflects another shot attempt two seconds before Griffin retakes the ice.
“Not my boy,” I reply. But she’s right, he is a beast. And even though he’s not mine, pride swells in my chest. Because Bash was always good. I never had a doubt in my mind when he was drafted at nineteen that he’d end up with a spot on the roster. After college, he spent only one year on the Rogues’ affiliated AHL team before they called him up.
I wasn’t surprised.
I’d celebrated his first NHL game alone in my room, my heart simultaneously filled with pride and breaking a little further. Because we’d spent so many nights on the phone together dreaming about that day. And he’d always make me promise I’d be there to cheer him on.
But I wasn’t. And I couldn’t help wondering if the girl he’d kissed that nightwas.
“Right, right. Sorry. Yourman.” Lola laughs as she elbows me.
I don’t even bother fighting with her.
They go into the final period up by one, and the battle is so intense in the third that no one sinks another shot. Not that they don’t try. Bash must be exhausted after stopping at least a dozen more shots on goal in the third.
The crowd goes wild when the final buzzer sounds and the Rogues end their regular season with a win.
After all these years, I’m here, watching Sebastian celebrate a big win on the ice with his team. It’s something I thought I’d experience over and over again. Something my eighteen-year-old self assumed would be a regular part of her life.
But things don’t always work out the way we hope. At least I’m here, now.
The crowd thins as people head for the exits, trying to beat the post-game traffic jam. But I don’t move. I watch as Sebastian’s teammates surround him. Smile as they press their helmets to his or pat him on the head affectionately. I memorizethe way he smiles and file it away for when I’m back in California and he’s still here.
“You should talk to him, you know.” Lola slings her arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Clear the air.”
“What would be the point? It’s been a decade, Lols. We’re both different people with very different lives. Hell, there’s half a country between us.”
“Sure,” she says as we watch the guys break apart. “But you can do your job anywhere. There doesn’t need to be half a country between you. And I suspect you’re not as different as you keep telling yourself. Because that man? The one skating our way? He’s looking at you like you’re everything.”
And with that, Lola grabs my hand and pulls me down the stairs toward the boards where Sebastian waits. He takes off one glove, then his helmet before shaking out his sweaty hair and greeting us with a massive smile.
“Good game, crab boy,” Lola shouts through the plexiglass.
Bash barks out a laugh. “Crab boy?”
“Yeah. Goalies look like little crabs in all their gear. You got the little pincers and everything.” She motions to his pads and gloves, and she’s not wrong. Goalies do resemble crabs a bit. Especially when they’re scuttling to the side in the crease, trying to stop a puck.
“Fair enough.” He tucks his helmet under one arm and turns his attention to me. “Hey, Indie.”
“Hi.” I cross my arms to keep myself from tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, because Lola will totally call me on my shit if I flirt with him in front of her. “Good game.”
“Thanks. Wish I could have pulled off a shutout, but it is what it is. New York played hard tonight.” He waves at a few kids and fans who start to crowd around nearby, hoping to get a glimpse of the goalie or to take some photos.
It makes me squirm, and I turn away from the crowds, careful that no one gets my face in a shot. Lola notices and positions herself between me and the fans, but she’s not the only one who does. Bash clocks my growing discomfort, and his brown eyes flash with understanding.
