Page 72 of Rookie Moves

Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head on his chest, and we lie there in complete silence. His hand travels up into my hair, his fingers combing through the strands like muscle memory.

There’s a heaviness in my chest, an unsettling feeling I’m unable to ignore for much longer.

I angle my head to look up at him and keep my voice quiet when I ask, “What’s on your mind?”

Tyler chews on the inside of his mouth, eyes unblinking where they’re fixed on the TV.

“I think I’m just having a kinda ‘oh shit’ moment,” he sighs, tightening his arm around my shoulders. “For the last four years, this team has been everything to me, and after tomorrow night, that’s it. That’s my hockey career over, and I’m just feeling a bit…” His words trail off, and I’m having a weird sense of déjà vu from when we were sitting on the steps in front of the frat house, only this time, it isn’t me who’s all up in my head.

“Sentimental? Sad?” I suggest.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’ve always known that I wouldn’t go on to play hockey in any kind of professional sense once I graduated. I’ve been a third- or fourth-line d-man since the dawn of time. I’m good, but I’m not great, you know? I won’t get a chance in the AHL, and I don’t want to juggle having a job while playing in the ECHL or something, and I didn’t want to end up playing in Europe. I don’t love the game like you do, and I’ve always been okay with that, but knowing that this is it, that there’s only one game left…” His voice turns thick, emotion clogging his throat as his eyes glisten under the harsh light of the TV. “I’m a month away from graduating, then I’ll be working for my dad’s company, and I’ve just been struck with the realization that I don’t really know who I am…”

His voice cracks on those last few words, and I immediately push myself up on my elbow and place my hand on his face to turn his head toward me. His dark eyes are full of tears, and my heart aches for him.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s hard when you know a big change is coming, but it’s okay to feel sad about it, Ty. I think people have a complicated time when it comes to change, whether it’s planned or unexpected.” I smooth my hand down his chest to rest over his heart. “Sometimes change is the only way we can grow. It’s like the closing of that chapter in your life so you can begin a new one. Embrace the change because you don’t know the amazing things it can bring.”

He smiles, running his fingers through my hair and pushing it away from my face. “You’re so smart.”

I laugh under my breath. “I’m not, but thanks.”

“No, you are. For someone who is about to face the biggest change of his life, your outlook on it is admirable.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not terrified about the draft and what might come from it, but I’m also excited because this is what I’ve wanted since I was a kid. But it doesn’t mean I’m not still sad that my time at college is coming to an end, but I know it’s a memory that I can look back on fondly.”

He hums, deep and thoughtful.

“Maybe you can talk to your dad and see if there’s something you can do as a compromise, because I’m sure he doesn’t want you to be unhappy with your life. If you don’t want to quit until you’ve figured out what you want to do, maybe you can ask him if you can work remotely. Then you can work from anywhere,” I suggest.

Like with me, in whatever city I’m drafted to.

I don’t say the words aloud though.

Tyler makes an incredulous noise, then pushes me down and rolls on top of me, blanketing me with his hard body. He dips his head and kisses up my neck, sparking a tidal wave of electricity to run through my body.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Colbs,” he murmurs against my pulse. “Just wanna lose myself in you, until it’s just you and me and nothing else.”

I smooth my hands up the expanse of his back and bury my fingers in his hair.

“You’ll always have me,” I say, my words raw and vulnerable because they go beyond this moment.

The tension in the locker room is thick as we suit up for the finals on Saturday night. Coach Vaughn has given us his motivational speech, and I’ve gone through my pregame ritual.

My ribs are sore but not distracting, and all other thoughts have disappeared from my brain as I take my position on the blue line for the national anthem, keeping my gaze fixed on the logo at center ice.

We’ve got this. Statistically, we’re the stronger team.

Quinnipiac have had a run of luck, but that luck is about to end because we’re not leaving Tampa without the win.

We take an early lead in the first period when Liam takes a slapshot from the top of the face-off circle. Our defense are rock solid, preventing Quinnipiac from having a clear shot on our net.

There’s a nervous energy simmering in the locker room when we head in for the first intermission.

Gio, the team trainer, offers me an ice pack, which I quickly wave off, too focused on Tyler getting his ankle taped. I didn’t see him tweak it, but the grimace on his face as Gio applies the K-tape says he must have twisted it.

When we take the ice for the second period, my determination to extend our lead results in me making a stupid mistake. I end up tripping one of Quinnipiac’s forwards while trying to steal the puck, then to add salt to the wound, they score on Winslow.

Frustrated, I hang my head from my spot in the penalty box and mutter a curse under my breath.