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Chapters (108)
  1. Dedication
  2. 1. Declan
  3. Declan
  4. 2. Hannah
  5. Hannah
  6. 3. Hannah
  7. Hannah
  8. 4. Hannah
  9. Hannah
  10. 5. Declan
  11. Declan
  12. 6. Hannah
  13. Hannah
  14. 7. Declan
  15. Declan
  16. 8. Declan
  17. Declan
  18. 9. Hannah
  19. Hannah
  20. 10. Declan
  21. Declan
  22. 11. Hannah
  23. Hannah
  24. 12. Declan
  25. Declan
  26. 13. Hannah
  27. Hannah
  28. 14. Declan
  29. Declan
  30. 15. Hannah
  31. Hannah
  32. 16. Hannah
  33. Hannah
  34. 17. Declan
  35. Declan
  36. 18. Hannah
  37. Hannah
  38. 19. Hannah
  39. Hannah
  40. 20. Hannah
  41. Hannah
  42. 21. Declan
  43. Declan
  44. 22. Hannah
  45. Hannah
  46. 23. Declan
  47. Declan
  48. 24. Hannah
  49. Hannah
  50. 25. Declan
  51. Declan
  52. 26. Hannah
  53. Hannah
  54. 27. Declan
  55. Declan
  56. 28. Hannah
  57. Hannah
  58. 29. Declan
  59. Declan
  60. 30. Hannah
  61. Hannah
  62. 31. Declan
  63. Declan
  64. 32. Hannah
  65. Hannah
  66. 33. Hannah
  67. Hannah
  68. 34. Declan
  69. Declan
  70. 35. Hannah
  71. Hannah
  72. 36. Declan
  73. Declan
  74. 37. Hannah
  75. Hannah
  76. 38. Declan
  77. Declan
  78. 39. Hannah
  79. Hannah
  80. 40. Declan
  81. Declan
  82. 41. Hannah
  83. Hannah
  84. 42. Declan
  85. Declan
  86. 43. Hannah
  87. Hannah
  88. 44. Declan
  89. Declan
  90. 45. Hannah
  91. Hannah
  92. 46. Hannah
  93. Hannah
  94. 47. Declan
  95. Declan
  96. 48. Hannah
  97. Hannah
  98. 49. Declan
  99. Declan
  100. 50. Hannah
  101. Hannah
  102. 51. Declan
  103. Declan
  104. Epilogue
  105. Hannah
  106. Epilogue Two
  107. Grant
  108. Books by Nikki Lawson

My body turns into a streak of controlled power as I hurtle across the ice, closing the distance between myself and the rightmost edge of the net as fast as my legs will let me. But just as I get to the line where a shot should be fired, I pivot hard to the left, spinning gracefully, and let the shot loose with a powerful backhand. The puck soars into the net so hard that if it wasn’t bolted down, it probably would’ve flipped over.

A whistle carries out over the ice, and when I glance over my shoulder, I find Dunaway in the stands with one of the assistant coaches.

“Nice shot, Murray!” Dunaway shouts, both hands cupped around his mouth. Then he waves me over. The assistant coach excuses himself while I’m making my way over, and Dunaway meets me at the boards.

“You don’t have to overdo it,” he says with a smile when I stop in front of him. “You’re already killing it. I don’t want you burning out.”

I nod. “I understand. I just want to do the best I can for the team.”

Dunaway chuckles at me. “I respect your work ethic, Murray, I really do. But you’ve got to live for yourself a little bit sometimes too. Your mind needs a break. It can’t be all hardcore hockey, all the time.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “I know that. I just have a hard time not giving things my all. If I’m in, I’m in, you know what I mean?”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I wouldn’t be heading a Cup-winning team if we didn’t have that in common.” Dunaway rubs a hand over his shiny bald head. “Now don’t get me wrong, the drills and practice are important, but it’s just as important to take care of yourself, especially in this line of work. You never know when your next game might be your last thanks to an injury or strain or something.”

A chill runs through me despite the sweat on my skin. I don’t even want to think about that happening.

Getting to this point has been a years-long, back-and-forth journey, so the last thing I want is for some random injury I could’ve prevented to steal the dream away from me now that it’s finally in my grasp. I have so much respect already for Dunaway, but I only respect him more for talking to me like this.