Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Jami Davenport (classic novels to read .txt) 📕

sure and strong. My blades dug into the ice. My heart pumped with purpose. Tonight was my night. My dad was here. Gene Smith was here. Naomi was working her statistician job. I had something to prove, and tonight felt right. The ice felt perfect. My body felt energized.

Coach Garf nodded at me. “Looking good, Pax.” His smile was wide as he watched me skate around the rink with long, fluid strides.

I grinned back at him and gave him the thumbs-up, not easy to do wearing hockey gloves.

Patrick pulled beside me. I didn’t slow for him. I sped up, wishing he’d go away. He didn’t say anything but kept pace with me. He cast uncertain looks in my direction, as if I were a creature he’d never seen and was trying to figure out.

In a sprint, we usually tied. When I pulled away, he didn’t pursue me. Even Patrick noticed something different in me, and he wasn’t about to tap into that before the game. He might not know how to deal with the new Paxton, but he’d have to learn. I wasn’t going back. I was going forward.

I glanced around for Naomi; I couldn’t help it. She sat a few rows up from the bench. Her father was behind her. No one told Mr. Smith where he could or couldn’t sit. He did as he pleased.

Lex skated past me and winked. “Hey, pro scouts are here. Word on the street is one’s from the Sockeyes.”

I glanced up toward the box where the scouts usually sat, not that I’d know who the Sockeyes’ scout was. Shaking off a moment of anxiety, I concentrated on my warmup routine. The rest would take care of itself.

I positioned myself, feeling calm and relaxed as the first line took the ice for the puck drop. Patrick fought for it and slapped it toward me. I spun around and raced for the net, faking out the defender blocking my way. The goalie bent down low, but my focus was laser sharp. I saw everything perfectly and time slowed down. I knew the direction the goalie was moving before he did, and I aimed a shot right through his legs. The second the puck left my stick, I raised my arms in the air to signal a goal. I was that sure.

The red light lit up. The guys on the bench pounded on the boards with their fists. My teammates surrounded me with hugs and slaps on the back. Patrick skated up to me with a grin on his face.

“Good one, Pax.”

I grinned back at him. For a moment, we were best buddies again, and all the tension between us melted away. I embraced this moment of pure joy and wished I could hang on to it forever.

I was hot, and the team recognized it. Instead of feeding Patrick the puck as we so often did, I found the passes coming my way. By the end of the second, I’d scored another goal, and Patrick had scored none. In fact, my bro was having one of the worst games I’d ever seen him play.

I chanced a glance toward our father. He was red in the face and shouting. I didn’t have to hear him to know he was pissed at Patrick, and there’d be hell to pay after this game. I had no delusions that he’d praise me, more likely chew my butt for taking the spotlight away from Patrick.

Striking out of frustration, my brother took a cheap shot at an opposing player and was sent to the penalty box for two minutes. Our line didn’t miss a beat. We played on without him. Josh played the goalie position like he was on fire, and we fed off that. He practically stood on his head or used the Force to knock back some of the shots coming at him hard and heavy as UConn attempted to correct their three-point deficit.

With one minute left, Jonah sent the puck flying across the ice to me, and I powered ahead of the defenders. Once again, I saw my shot before I took it. The puck whizzed over the goalie’s right knee pad.

I celebrated with my teammates. I’d scored a hat trick, three goals in one game. I’d scored a few before in my high school days but never in college.

I returned to the bench as the second line held the score of four to zero. I trudged wearily to the tunnel, exhausted but elated at the same time.

“Paxton!” shouted a familiar voice. I cringed inwardly, but outwardly I squared my shoulders and marched down the corridor toward the locker room. I wouldn’t give my father the benefit of acknowledging him. It’d been impossible to discern whether he was angry or happy for me. I’d vote for angry because my great play made the chosen one’s game even less impressive.

Okay, I was being a sore winner and gloating a little too much, but hadn’t I earned it?

In the locker room, the guys surrounded and congratulated me. I basked in the glow of an incredible game.

Coach Garf stopped in front of my locker with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you had it in you.”

I met his gaze, feeling an odd lump in my throat.

He’d believed in me when no one else had.

Well, except for Naomi. She’d always believed in me.

21

Hat Trick

Naomi

Paxton was hot, and I was ecstatic for him.

I leapt to my feet, yelling at the top of my lungs, drawing sour looks from the home team fans around us. Paxton had stolen the puck and taken it to the net with one minute left. My dad rose to his feet and clapped. Even he was smiling.

“That’s his third?” asked one of the guys down from us.

“Incredible.”

“Maybe the twins changed places tonight?” another asked.

“I doubt it,” said another.

I ignored them, holding back on my inclination to dress them down. The game ended a minute later, and I followed my dad to the locker room area.