Every hockey player lived for the thrill of game days, and I was no different. Since I was old enough to understand the rules and how to get the crowd cheering, there'd always been a familiar thrum in my chest when I stepped out onto the ice. A sense of familiarity and adrenaline—the combination of which got me pumped up and raring to go.

Once the whistle sounded, nothing else mattered except finding a way to get the puck in the other team's net.

Though Tampa's defense certainly weren't letting that happen easily.

"We got this," Coach said in the locker room after the first period ended without a single goal. "We're playing fast and getting our shots off, so keep it up. Find ways to get through their defense, because while they're strong, we're stronger."

"Hell yeah, we are!"

Coach chuckled proudly at Orlov's outburst. "I expect all of you to have that kind of determination going back out there, because we need it. It's not enough to avoid mistakes. I need each one of you to give it your all. To step up and leave everything you have out on the ice. And if you do that, I have no doubt we'll walk away with a win."

"Knights on three!" Simmons shouted, rousing the team as we headed back out.

"One, two, three, Knights!"

Returning to the game, I couldn't get Coach's words out of my head. They were cemented there, playing on repeat each time I jumped over the boards to join the action. And while that didn't magically make things easier, it did help my focus. I could sense the moves the defensemen would make before they made them, I was keyed in to where my teammates were on the ice and where I needed to be, and I let the noise of the crowd sink into the background, fixated solely on one thing.

Scoring.

And I thought I had the perfect opportunity after dekeing out a Tampa skater and circling the back of the net. But the goalie had me beat. If I would've let the shot off, I knew he would've buried it, so instead of killing the play in search of my own glory, I quickly passed the puck to Brookes. Ready and waiting on the other side of the net, his one-timer sailed cleanly into the back of the net before the Tampa goalie could even slide over and try to stop it.

With the lamp lit up, the arena erupted—cheers from the fans and music from the DJ booth—as I joined the guys in celebration. But only for a moment.

Because we all knew one goal was nothing in hockey, especially in a hard-fought game.

As the minutes of play time ticked down, it was clear to both sides that this would indeed be a nail biter. Back and forth we went, moving the puck up and down the ice. Shoving Tampa up against the boards to keep the momentum on our side as much as possible.

But something inside me still burned. A familiar feeling that came around once and a while that told me this was my game. My show.

And my time came when there were only two minutes left in the game.

Brookes, Schmidt, and I were moving the puck around Tampa's end, trying to find an opening as the goalie's eyes followed our every move while also trying to run down the clock. But after so many passes, I just felt it.

That urge to shoot.

So, when the puck landed back on my stick, I lunged forward and aimed a missile straight for the top right corner of the net.

Only to see it sneak passed the goalie's blocker and land beautifully in the net.

Throwing my hands up in celebration as my teammates on the ice huddled around me, I felt a pressure lift off my chest, knowing this game was ours. And as I took my seat on the bench, chugging water as our third line took care of the rest of the clock, exhilaration coursed through my veins.

Especially when the final whistle blew and I saw my face on the jumbotron, having been named the top player of the game, with Brookes and Nyberg number two and three.

"That's what I call a game, boys!" Simmons roared as we all crowded into the locker room, prompting another round of hoots and hollers from everyone.

It was like this after every win, no matter if it was a home or away game, because by tomorrow, our minds needed to be zeroed in on the next objective. The next game. There was no time to revel in the success.

But boy did I want to.

"Damn, man, you were on fire tonight," Nyberg said clapping my shoulder after shedding his gloves and head gear.

"So were you, dude. Nice shutout."

"Thanks." His grin turned knowing as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "But admit it, you were trying to show off for your girl in the stands, weren't you?"

I rolled my eyes, because honestly, while I'd known she was in attendance, my performance hadn't been for her benefit. It'd been for me.

My agent had called earlier this morning to clue me in to the fact that the higher ups were still throwing my name around for a possible trade. So, tonight I'd given it my all. To prove to myself, and to the front office, that I belonged here. That I was a Knight.

"Did I hear that right?" Brookes joked, cutting in and nudging my other side. "Wellsley's got a good luck charm in the stands?"

"Well thank fuck for that," another teammate said with a chuckle. "You were a rocket tonight, man."

"He certainly was," Coach said, coming up behind me. I turned and grinned at him. "And no matter the reason, you've scored yourself a date with the reporters tonight, son. Hurry and change, because they're expecting you in less than five." His gaze flickered to Nyberg. "You too. You'll be up after him."

"Yes, Coach."

"See you both in there."

As he retreated, I began shedding the rest of my gear, but because I knew I wouldn't have time to shower, instead of changing back into my suit, I threw on a spare t-shirt and pair of sweatpants I had in my locker.

"Well, as much as I'd love to sit here and listen to you all rag on me for inviting a friend—"

"A girl friend," Brookes emphasized.

"A friend," I repeated, "to the game, I'm needed elsewhere."

"Kill it out there Wellsley," someone shouted to my back as I headed for the door, and I pumped my fist in the air three times, excitement still running through me.

I could do this. I'd done it before on a few occasions. It was no big deal.

And luckily, when I sat down in front of the single microphone on stage, looking out at the rows of reporters, the questions that came my way were easy to answer. Because the answers were true.

Were me and my teammates under pressure after that first goal to maintain our lead? Of course we were. There was always pressure to pull out a win, especially the further into the season we got.

How was my shoulder after the hard hit I took into the boards in the second? It was good. Nothing to worry about. Hockey players knew how to take hits, and I was no different.

For my goal, did I see an opening, or did I shoot blindly and hope it went in? In the position the Knights were in, I knew it wouldn't be smart to just shoot the puck at the net. We didn't want to give Tampa the chance to grab the rebound, head to the other end of the ice, pull their goalie, and score. So when I saw the opening on the ice, I aimed for the top right corner, knowing that would be the hardest place to protect in the stance Tampa's goalie was in.

How did it feel to be a part of both the goals tonight? Absolutely amazing.

I was smiling and laughing with the reporters, getting ready to wrap things up and let Nyberg take the hot seat—though one reporter decided to take things in a different direction.

"Rohan Basak with the Score. Can you confirm or deny the rumor that the Knights are looking to trade you and bring in a prime enforcer for the team?"

His question was like a punch to the stomach; his words like a bucket of ice water falling over me. I flinched, then froze, my mind scrambling for some semblance of a reply, but nothing came. Instead, silence overtook the room, everyone watching as the metaphorical pedestal I'd been on was ripped away, leaving me to tumble.

"Sorry, but he won't be addressing any trade rumors today, as that is all they are: rumors," the team publicist said, saving my ass. She motioned for me to head back to the locker room, and I nodded numbly, following her orders. "We'll now be bringing out Ryan Nyberg to answer the final questions for the night."

The swift change of subject didn't do much to distract the reporters from my stiff shoulders, however, as I felt the weight of their stares on my back as I left the room.

"Hey," Nyberg said, putting his hand on my arm as I went to pass by him. Flicking my gaze up to meet his, I saw the worry creasing his forehead. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, though it wasn't the truth. More of an automated response.

Which he seemed to recognize, uncertainty clouding his eyes, but he didn't push. "Okay," he trailed off, "but if you want to talk, let me know, because that guy's question was utter bullshit."

"He's right, boy," Coach said. Having been standing off to the side, he moved closer as Nyberg left to face the masses. "Don't let reporters get inside your head, because they don't know the full story. And while I can say I don't want to see you get traded, sometimes that's just the way this league works." Lifting his hand, he rested it on my shoulder in support. "But nothing is set in stone yet, so focus on the things you can control. Your attitude and your game. You played great tonight, and you deserve to celebrate, just make sure to be back at the arena tomorrow morning ready to put in the work all over again."

I nodded in response. "Yes, sir."

Except the will to celebrate that had been raging inside my chest just minutes before had been doused, with only a few flickering flames remaining. And those only sparked after I noticed a text from Lia when I returned to the locker room.

Great game tonight! Congrats on the goal and the assist 💪🏼

I couldn't help the small grin that pulled at my lips, kicking my mood up marginally despite the overwhelming gloom and doom in my head. Though I guess if I had to save face and celebrate, doing so with Lia at my side felt like the best option.

Thanks, babe. Any chance you're still hanging around?

We're a few streets over at a local pub, why?

Any chance it's Apollo's?

It is.

That's the bar me and the guys usually hit up after games... you up for a little extra company?

Extra company always welcome. See you soon 💋

***

Apollo's was pretty packed when we strolled in twenty minutes later. Tables were packed, the pool tables were in use, and while one of the TVs was broadcasting a late-night game between Dallas and Calgary, the rest were showing highlights from our game.

Prompting enough of the patrons to notice our presence, though given we were regulars at this point, there was no special treatment. Fans threw out congratulatory sentiments—like good game and nice goal—but nobody went out of their way to fuss over us, and we all appreciated it.

Especially me, because while hockey was the main constant in my life, and something I loved with every inch of my being, I really did not want to talk much hockey tonight. I didn't want to revel in the game, knowing that if this trade talk wasn't just a rumor, it could be one of my last wins in navy and silver. I wanted to forget, and with that in mind, I turned my eyes to the crowd and immediately spotted the redhead I'd been looking for.

"Hey, guys, Lia's here, so I'll catch up with you all later," I said, moving to split off from them while most of them headed for the bar.

Schmidt looked at me like I was crazy. "Come on, you're the man of the night and you're not going to drink with us?"

"Let him go have his fun. He's earned it," Nyberg cut in teasingly, though he threw me a look of acknowledgement. He hadn't mentioned the reporter crap to anyone else on the team, but had realized that it'd thrown me off, and I was thankful for him trying to cover for my shitty mood.

"What? Don't want to introduce us to your girl?" Orlov teased, nudging me with his elbow. His gaze swept around the bar. "Which one is she?"

I rolled my eyes, motioning to where she sat with her friends. "The redhead near the back."

"Damn."

I smacked the side of his head lightly. "Shut up, asshat."

He chuckled. "So, I'm guessing you need to keep her to yourself so that she doesn't come over here and realize we're all much better catches than you?"

"More like so she doesn't have to question why I hang out with you all off the ice," I corrected, running my hand through my hair. "Plus, like I said before, it's nothing serious. We're just having a bit of fun."

"Well, if your fun heads back to the apartment, let me know," Nyberg said, lowering his voice as he clapped me on the shoulder. "I'll find somewhere else to crash."

I lifted a brow. "Yeah?"

"Of course." He smirked. "I've already got my eye on the pretty little blonde at the end of the bar."

And sure enough, when I glanced in that direction, the same blonde was looking our way and checking him out.

"Then I'll be sure to give you a heads up when we leave," I mused before finally weaving my way through the crowd.

Coming up behind Lia's chair, I saw one of her friend's eyes widen as she spotted me. Using all the strength I could muster, I plastered a smile on my lips. "Hey."

Lia leaned her head back to meet my eyes and grinned, reaching for my hand. "Hey, we were just talking about you."

"All good things I hope?"

"You'll never know, now will you?"

I hoped none of them caught the half-heartedness of the laugh that escaped me as I said, "I guess not." And to further distract from the fact, I turned to greet her friends. "I'm guessing the two extra tickets tonight went to you two?"

"They did," the woman with shoulder-length brown hair said, "and thanks for that. Being in the arena was ten times better than watching the game from our living room."

"A live hockey game always takes the cake in my books," I commented. "Though I may be a little biased."

The three women laughed, and when they began to quiet, I felt Lia's hand squeeze mine. "Derrick, this is Esme—" Lia pointed to the woman with a pink pixie cut first before moving over to the brunette. "—and Harper. And you guys already know this is Derrick."

"Sure do," Esme replied with a wide grin.

"Well, it's nice to meet you guys." I looked down at the table to see most of the glasses were nearly empty. "Did you all want another round? My treat."

"I'll come with," Lia said as her friends nodded and began to rattle off their orders. "You'll need an extra set of hands to carry everything back."

Not dropping my hand, she began pulling me in the direction of the bar, but after only a few steps, I leaned closer to her. "You sure this isn't just some ploy to get me alone," I teased, my teeth scraping the edge of her ear to cause a visible shiver.

Stopping next to a pillar, she took a step backwards, leaning up against it. "And if it is?"

"Well," I said, stepping closer, my eyes dropping to her lips, "how do you feel about PDA?"

So far, all of our kisses had been behind closed doors or away from prying eyes, and before planting one on her in front of everyone, I wanted to make sure she was comfortable with that.

And by the way she stood on her toes, cupped my cheeks, and closed the remaining distance between us, I figured she was.

Molding my mouth to hers, I gripped her hips, more than appreciative of her curves as she parted her lips, inviting me in deeper. As our tongues tangled, I felt a rush of heat sweep through my veins, wanting this to last a whole lot longer than a handful of moments.

Especially when she began to pull back, a small hum of excitement falling from her lips.

"I wanted to do that after you scored tonight, but better late than never, right?"

"Totally," I agreed, pecking her lips once more.

She grinned as her hands trailed down my arms, intertwining with my own when she reached them. "But really, I know I already texted you, but the game was awesome. You played great."

"Damn right I did."

And management needed to recognize that.

The thought was immediate, killing off any vibe our kiss had created as it popped into my head without any prompting. Unsurprising given the festering anger after the press conference, but it was true. I was a Knight, had been for years, and I wanted to stay in this city. I wanted to stay with this team, and I'd do anything in my power to do so.

The heartbreaking thing, however, was I didn't know if it would be enough.

a/n: anyone else participating in July nanowrimo? I'm already nearing the halfway point toward my goal and getting pumped at the chapters I'm writing for this story. You're all definitely in for a treat!

remember to vote and leave your thoughts in the comments below!