w 1 t n e s s

thirty-seven

halle

I was on the edge of my seat in warmups. My mother tried to ask me questions, but I couldn't answer them wholeheartedly.

"What's he doing on the glass? Who's he talking to?"

"Uh...Chaunette and Donya. They have the kids with them. They like to watch the warmups from right in the ice." Tayler leaned into me from my right. She addressed my mom over my shoulder.

"They'll come up and join all of us." I had to smile slightly. 'All of us' included family members of nearly everyone. Tayler and Dylan's parents sat on her other side, as well as his two brothers who's teams had been knocked out of the playoffs already. So many supporters for the boys. And most would be traveling to Florida for the final two games, just like we were.

"I like your jacket Halls. I see a couple women with similar ones."

"Yeah, all the wives and girlfriends got them." I shifted to show her the front with the C.

"It's nice." My mother paused as Alex and Lyndsey returned to their seats in front of us. After they took their seats, Lyndsey twisted to hand Tayler and I drinks. While Tayler got a beer, I was left with just a water. For once, I didn't mind. I wanted to keep my head straight today.

I'd already introduced my family to my friends, but I knew they didn't quite make the connection between them and the players on the ice. They'd know when something significant happened and the girls broke out in cheers.

As the anthem began, Tayler squeezed my hand tightly. She did the same thing every game. When the song ended, Amanda turned to look up at the women behind her.

"Ladies, now is when we pray like hell that our boys do well." I clutched at Tayler's hand harder. They would. They had to. The journey here had been too long and exhausting to not prevail. They wanted it too bad to let the chance slip from between their hands. One set of fans would walk out of here disheartened tonight, and it wouldn't be us.

Good luck, Ty. Play like you have fire under your feet and in your soul.

I send the silent thought over the ice to him as though he could hear it. I wished he could. I felt the growing electricity in the arena as Tyler skated into the face off circle. He squared off against the Lightning captain. I felt the pressure rise the second the puck was dropped.

The puck flew away from the circle and was immediately scooped up by a white-clad player. I groaned as the forward deftly kept Pat from intercepting it.

The rest of the first two periods was a large match of keep-away. Thankfully, there was more possession from Chicago. Whatever they did, the offensive lines couldn't get through the Lightning defense. Even Tyler had troubles. I knew he would be frustrated if something didn't give in the third period. Shots on goal were ten to nine. Even and fruitless on both ends.

Something was different about the team in the final period. They came out from the intermission looking like a whole new set of players. They weren't emotional and irrational anymore. Each face was set in stone. They carried themselves with dignity and determination. Tyler, especially, looked motivated. I knew the look on his face. When he was calm and settled, there was no stopping him. Something explosive was about to happen.

Off of the faceoff, Tyler scooped the puck back to Adam. The defenseman took the puck out of a dangerous area and carried it over the blue line. The wingers were set in a deadly formation, Tyler the weapon in the middle. Adam dropped the puck to Pat, who drew the defenders away by faking a pass back to Adam. Tyler was almost unguarded. The one defender near him wasn't anything to worry about. Pat's pass found the tape of his stick easily, as if a magnet had connected the two objects together. Perfect chemistry in a perfect pass.