He turned on a dime.
He shot it like a bullet straight to Hux.
Hux to Minns.
Minns to Bray.
Bray to Gauthier.
Gauthier lined up. He shot it.
The Fireballs’ goalie batted it away, catching it easily on his arm pad.
It soared through the air at head height.
Bray skated in, directly into the puck’s path.What was he doing?He raised his stick and batted it like he was swinging a tennis racquet. The puck did a complete one-eighty.
I was on my feet, my hands in the air. I cheered.
Florida’s center was right there, moving like a freight train.
My gut twisted. My breath caught.
He wasn’t stopping—
Stop!
—head down and shoulder braced like a fucking rugby tackle. Everything moved in slow motion as he collided with Bray.
He lifted him clean off the ice.
Bray’s arms cartwheeled.
He flew back.
Slammed into the boards.
Bray.
He slumped. Dropped like a stone to the ice.
Fuck. Bray.
Unmoving.
Bray, get up.
My breath caught in my throat.Get up.
My ears rang.Get up.
My chest tightened.Fucking get up, Texas.
Spots appeared in my vision.
Panic enveloped me.
My heart slammed against my chest.