The final buzzer was like music to my ears. The crowd were up and out of their seats, the roar of cheering rattling me to my bones. I dropped my stick, striding away from the net to meet my teammates at center ice. Padded bodies engulfed me as we threw our arms over each other. We'd done it–we were going to the Frozen Four.

"We did it again, fuckers!" Booker shouted, patting Cole on the top of his helmet. As serious as he was most of the time, even he managed to crack a smile.

"Frozen Four, here we come," McKinley said. His brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned.

A short victory lap later and we were collecting our forgotten equipment and heading off of the ice. The surge of adrenaline that I had been fanning all game coursed through my veins as I made my way down the tunnel and into the locker room.

"Great game, boys!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls as my teammates poured in after me.

"You're one to talk, Tate! You were unstoppable tonight," Maverick pointed out as he slapped me on the back.

I tugged my jersey over my head, flashing him a Cheshire grin. "Had to close off my college hockey career with a bang."

Ella's bracelet gleamed under the overhead lighting–a string of captured fireflies. The kind that lit up the darkest of nights. It was back on my wrist. She had given it to me before the big game, thinking it would do more good for me than it would for her sitting in the stands. The thin metal was a comforting reminder. I brushed my fingers over the smooth links, the smile spreading across my face. I couldn't have done any of this without her.

"Hey." McKinley pointed at me from his locker. "Your job isn't done yet. I don't want to see you slacking off now. That goes for all of you."

"Yes, Cap!" Booker barked, sending him a military salute.

I shook my head, smile unwavering. The guy couldn't be serious if his life depended on it.

Coach Miller clapped his hands as he entered the room. The charcoal gray designer suit hugged his frame. "I'm proud of each and every one of you. You worked hard for this."

A chain of gratitude erupted from around the room. The rest of the team was clearly just as jazzed as I was.

"Alright," he said, settling us as if we were back in middle school. "Let's get cleaned up. Celebrate tonight, but come back tomorrow ready to skate your asses off. We've got a lot of work ahead of us to prepare for the Frozen Four." Coach clapped his hands together one more time before retreating to his office.

The atmosphere in the room was electric even as some of the guys went to hit the showers. Our bodies were exhausted, but our spirits were sky-high. I spent a little more time under the water than necessary, allowing the steam to soften the ache in my shoulders. When I stepped out, Booker whipped at my covered ass with a coiled towel.

"Way to use up all the hot water," he joked before slipping into the cubicle.

I stifled a laugh as I made the short track back to my locker.

"We got our chance, man," McKinley said as he sat down beside me. His dress pants were already around his waist. At this point, I think we were both itching to get out of there.

I buffed my wet head with a towel. "If you asked me whether we were going to make it back in December I would have laughed in your face. We've come so far since the beginning of the season."

"We really turned things around." McKinley nodded, staring at his clasped hands, hovering above his knees.

I noticed the way his smile dropped. "Then why are you acting like someone ran over your dog?"

McKinley breathed out a laugh. "I guess I'm just bummed that all of this is coming to an end."

"What's coming to an end? You're headed to the NHL after this."

"It's not the same. I know at this point in our lives we should be used to this. Some kids grow up jumping from team to team, but I've never played with a better group of guys."

The thrill of the win dimmed down with the cold rush of reality. That was the reason why I was so desperate to hold onto my spot as starting goalie for the Fenton Falcons. This was our final season with these guys. Our senior year. At this point they were an extended family–brothers that I didn't get a chance to meet until I stepped foot on our university's campus. It was weird to think that we only had a few more weeks together until some of us would be leaving.

I considered returning for a couple of extra courses, just so that I could come back and play the following year, but I knew it was only going to prolong the inevitable. I was graduating and I had to step down to make room for the new talent that was ready to show what they got. My gaze drifted across the room to Nikolas. I don't think I'd be able to hand-pick a better player to fill my shoes. When it came to goaltending, we had our own styles. But he stepped up and showed what he was made of while I was down for the count. I knew he was going to blow things out of the water next year.

"Tate," Coach Miller called from his office door, interrupting our conversation. "Office."

The middle aged man didn't give me a chance to respond. He retreated into his office, the back of his dress shirt disappearing behind the open door. McKinley and I exchanged looks. I raised my eyebrow at him. All he did was send me a gentle shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders.

Without a word, I stood up and made my way into the adjacent room. I had no idea what this could have been about.

As I stepped into his office, Coach Miller was lowering himself down onto the leather office chair behind his desk. The walls were lined with various awards and newspaper clippings highlighting the team's accomplishments over the years. It was hard not to feel a sense of pride when you stepped foot in there.

"Have a seat," Coach began, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together on his desk.

Accepting his invitation, I sat in one of the arm chairs across from him. Brown eyes, that reminded me of McKinley's, analyzed my every move. It was difficult not to feel like a bug under a microscope in front of Jonathon Miller. In all honesty, he was kind of intimidating. Coach Miller was a retired NHL legend. During the last leg of his career, he was a hotshot leading goal scorer for New York. He was one of the oldest players to leave the league at the ripe age of 45 after 20 consecutive seasons. There was a lot I was able to learn from this man.

"What's going on, Coach?" I asked, my spine acting as a metal rod down my back.

"As you are aware we've been investigating the incident that happened the other week involving one of Brite's forwards."

My heart clenched as I remembered being run down on the ice. I had been caught off guard, taking a hit that left me sitting at home while the rest of the team travelled for an out of state game. I was still sour about it, not to mention sore. Time had passed and I still had an ugly yellow bruise on my ribs from the fucker's knee when he pinned me down. "Yeah, what about it?"

"It took us a little while to get to the bottom of things. There wasn't much cooperation from Brite's hockey administration. However, after making a few persuasive calls, it turns out the hit was planned prior to the game even starting." The frown lines around his lips deepened.

"Planned?" Hockey was an intense sport. It wasn't uncommon for even the more docile of players to lose their tempers under the intensity of the game. Up until this point, I had assumed that's all it had been–a slurry of emotions that caused someone to crack under the pressure. My brow furrowed. "What do you mean it was planned?"

Coach Miller slid a folder across the slick surface of his desk. I took it in my hands, flipping it open. The first page was blown up screen shots of a text conversation.

"From what I have gathered, Liam contacted a few of his old teammates to lay you out. Did you have any idea that he could be behind this?"

A shiver wracked my body. The words on the page in front of me melted together. Sure, it was no secret that Liam and I weren't exactly best friends. But to sanction a hit on me and try to knock me out for the rest of the season was fucking nuts.

"No," I muttered, dragging my gaze from the page in front of me. Sliding the folder back down, I ran a hand through my hair. "I had no idea."

Coach Miller gave a subtle flick of his chin. "Liam has been suspended from the team until the investigation has officially been closed. As he's failed to adhere to the conduct of all Fenton athletes, we're also looking into what we can do in terms of having him removed from the university."

I returned his nod, not trusting myself to speak. As much as I hated to admit it, I was relieved knowing Liam had come toe to toe with karma. I just hoped that was the last Ella or I would have to deal with him. "Thanks, Coach," I managed to utter.

"You've been a valuable member of this team for the last four years, Hendrix. I want to see you succeed." The corners of his mouth tilted upwards. "Which is why I was happy to come across a goalie opening in Texas."

"What?" I blinked, the sudden change in topic was like whiplash.

"I had an old colleague of mine reach out. They're interested in drafting you. You've seriously impressed them over the last few months and they think you'd be a great fit for their program."

"Wow." My lips parted before shutting again. Being considered as an NHL draft pick was the greatest honor I could have ever imagined. People out there, in very important positions, thought I was good enough to play in the big leagues. The idea itself was paralyzing. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll think about it," Coach advised in a firm tone. "No matter which path you choose, Hendrix, I know you'll be successful."

"Thank you, Coach," I said, standing up and extending my hand.

His rough hand slid into mine, giving it a rigid shake. "Now, don't let all of this information overwhelm you. We have a Frozen Four to win."

Too late for that.

"Yes, Coach."

Realizing that was the end of our conversation, I made my way towards the door. It was still cracked open, laughter from the other side seeping in. My fingers wrapped around the cool, brass doorknob when I paused. A burning question scorched my throat as I considered whether or not I wanted to ask it. I rolled my lips into my mouth.

"Why did you push the investigation?" I asked, turning my head to find him still in his seat. "Most people thought he had run me down due to desperation; a last ditch effort to get back into the game. I know I did."

Coach Miller inspected my face with an amused smile. "A little birdie told me."

_ _ _ _ _

author's note: 

Guesses on who the little birdie is? lol

Also, Hendrix being offered a spot in the NHL! Do you think he'll take it?

Only one more chapter before the epilogue! While we're getting ready for this story to end, let's do a bit of reminiscing. What was your favourite part of this book? It could be a specific scene, character, whatever comes to mind! I'd love to know. This kind of stuff really helps me when I go back and make my edits.

Think of it as a little birthday gift to me ;)

Happy reading!