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Mile High: Special Edition (Windy City #1)(185)

Author:Liz Tomforde

Maddison takes a seat in his locker stall next to mine, both of us suited up for the game and ready to get this underway. He leans his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the ground. “You ready?”

I nod, equally as focused as my best friend. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He stays silent for a moment. “This might be our last game together—”

“Can we save this for after we win the Cup?”

He lightly laughs. “Yeah. For sure.”

“You know, for the little golden boy who got everything he ever wanted, you really turned out to be the best friend I could ever ask for.”

His chest heaves in a silent laugh. “For being the piece of shit I thought you were, you really turned out to be one hell of a guy.”

I hold my fist out as he connects his.

“But I still think you’re an asshole,” he reminds me.

“And you’re still a dick.”

The United Center is deafening as we skate out of the tunnel. Flashing lights illuminate our path as we step onto the dark ice, but the announcers, fans, and blaring music drown out each other so much so that the only thing I can hear is my own thumping heartbeat. My short breaths don’t do much to fill my lungs as I glide across the ice for warm-ups, but I can’t help it. This is the most nervous I’ve ever been for a game.

Logan meets Maddison down at the glass just as she does every game. I usually give them shit, but I’m too focused tonight.

“Eleven!” the referee shouts. “Take your ring off.”

Confused, I look down at my hands, my gloves sitting on the bench as I take a drink of water. I already took all my rings off, including my chain. They’re sitting in my locker stall as we speak. But then I see it. Stevie’s tiny ring, barely visible on my pinky finger, that I completely forgot to tape over. It’s too late now. The ref already saw it.

“No,” I argue.

He skates up to me, confused. “What?”

“I’m not taking it off.”

“Then you’re not playing.”

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” Maddison leaves the glass, quickly skating over to the referee and me. He puts his body between us. “He’s playing. He’ll take it off.”

Maddison grabs my jersey, dragging me to skate with him back down the tunnel, hidden from anyone else’s view. “Take the fucking ring off your finger.”

“No.”

“Zee, stop being ridiculous. Take it off your fucking finger.”

I don’t respond, but I also don’t make a move to remove it.

Maddison softens his approach. “It doesn’t mean anything, man. Stevie will forgive you. I know she will. Just give me sixty minutes of hockey, then we’ll figure that out afterward, yeah?”

I stay silent.

“Did you know I have a note that Logan wrote me in college during Senior Showcase that I still read before every game? But even if I didn’t have it with me or forgot to read it, it doesn’t mean she loves me any less. It’s just a symbol, and you’re holding on to that ring because you think it’s all you have of Stevie right now.”

It takes a moment of reflection, but finally, I give him a resigned nod and unwillingly slip Stevie’s ring off my finger. I look around for somewhere safe to put it, not able to head back into the locker room.

“I mean, I’m not a monster. Tie it to your fucking lace and tuck it in your skate or something.”

I level him with a look. “Fucking sap.”

He unapologetically pops his shoulders.

The national anthem, starting announcements, and pre-game rituals fly by in an instant, and without realizing it, we’re in the first period.

Nerves are high on our bench. Passes aren’t connecting, transitions aren’t smooth, and line swaps are mistimed. On the other hand, Pittsburgh is playing like they have nothing to lose because, well, they don’t. Down 3-0 in the finals while playing on the road has everyone betting against them, and they’re playing like it. Their hits are hard, shots are firing nonstop, and they’re skating fast and loose.

They score twelve minutes into the first period, giving them the 1-0 lead.

During the first intermission, our coach lectures us on playing scared and reminds us that we’re back on a plane to Pittsburgh tomorrow for game five if we don’t win tonight. I want to win at home, we all do, and the last thing I need is to get on that plane and remember Stevie’s not there.

That’s the first time she pops into my head during the game, and I shake her off, needing to focus once again.