With one minute on the clock, Amir saves a goal and passes the puck to Luke, who brings it up to Brad, who sends it up to Josh, safely out of Wolves territory. I stomp my feet and sing the wolf song with the crowd, and in the final seconds, Will swipes the puck from Josh, charges ahead, crosses the Wolves’ blue line, the red line, the Sharks’ blue line, pulls his stick back, and slaps the puck straight at the goalie, straight through his gloves, straight into the net.

The buzzer sounds.

The game is over.

The formerly untrainable, apathetic, obnoxious, and most losingest team in history has just won the semifinals, four to three.

The wolf pack is going to the finals.

I push my way down to the ice, the boys smashed together in a free-form mosh pit, sticks high in the air. I dodge between groups of parents and step out onto the rink in my boots, scanning the crowd for Josh.

Both co-captains hang behind the pack, just out of reach of the celebratory crush. I slide closer. Will is surrounded by Dodd and the suit committee, news guy Don Donaldson edging in with a mic and a cameraman.

“Will, is it true that your coach is already fielding interest from NHL Central Scouting?” Don asks.

“We’re looking at our options,” Dodd answers for him. It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak actual words all season. “No comment at this time.”

“What about you, gentlemen?” Don asks the suits. “Like what you saw out there tonight?”

“No comment at this time,” Dodd says again, nodding curtly at the camera and ushering his well-dressed buddies off the ice. Without so much as a congratulatory smile, Will’s father goes with them, disappearing behind the stands.

Will turns to skate away, too, but Josh grabs his jersey and yanks him close, their helmets almost touching.

“Josh!” I slide over to them in my boots, trying not to stumble on the ice. “Stop! What are you doing?”

Josh sees me and loosens his grip. “Go ahead,” he says to Will. “Tell her about your godfather.”

“But …” I look from captain to captain. “Dodd? That’s what you’re fighting—”

“You knew about him?” Josh’s eyes blaze.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I say, utterly lost. “Will didn’t like to talk about it, so … what’s up with you guys tonight? You just won the semis!”

Josh skates close to me, face red, eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. “You two have been scheming together this whole season, and you’re asking me what’s up?”

“What are you talking—”

“That’s it, Blackthorn,” Will says. “I’m benching you next game. Keep it up, you’re out for the rest of the playoffs.”

“You’re the coach now, too?” Josh shoves Will’s shoulder. “Was that part of your sweet little deal with Dodd?”

I wedge myself between them and try to grab Will’s arm, but he dives around me, slamming Josh against the glass. I wave for Amir, but the rest of the pack is still hugging and fist-bumping on the center line, oblivious.

“Will, what are you doing?” I shout. “Back off!”

Will lets out a sarcastic laugh. “That’s not what you usually say.”

Josh’s face changes from red to ice-white to red again, Will’s cocky smirk undoing everything I said at Hurley’s yesterday. All the promises I made, the moments between us, erased in the heat of some stupid, testosterone-fueled misunderstanding.

“Josh, don’t listen to—”

“Was Hudson part of the package, too?” Josh asks. “Bonus for selling us out? Dodd’s really got the hookup, huh?”

Will tells a hundred more lies with a single suggestive look, but his smirk falls when he sees my face. Something like regret flickers behind his eyes, and then the wall goes back up between us, cold and solid.

“Jealous, Blackthorn?” Will spits at the ice, and suddenly, Josh winds up for a swing. Amir is next to me in a millisecond, the other boys close behind. Before Josh can connect, Amir hip-checks him into the glass, and the rest of the team swarms us, Amir holding Josh while Rowan and Brad pull Will across the ice, back to the locker room.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask Josh, voice shaking. “What do you mean, scheming? And why are you letting Will get under your skin?”

Josh shakes his head, panting and red-faced. I reach out for his hand, but he turns on me, speed skating his way to the other side of the rink, melting into the crush behind the stands before I can ask any more questions.

“Hudson?” Dani pushes through the tangle of undisturbed and still-singing fans. “Are you okay?”

“I’m … that came out of nowhere.” I shake my head, shock coursing through my veins. Everything happened so fast, a flash hailstorm on the ice. “I don’t … can we sit for a sec?”

She nods, and I follow her back to the seats at floor level, collapsing into the first empty chair I find. She joins Frankie a few feet behind me.

“You okay?” Kara loops her purse over the chair next to me and sits, face lined with genuine concern. “What happened out there?”

“Will and Josh got into it. Something about Dodd.” It’s all I can manage without breaking down.

Kara sighs. “Hud, I don’t mean to sound like—”

“So don’t.” I close my eyes. “Sorry. I’m just not in the mood for ‘I told you so’ right now.”

“I wasn’t. I just … I meant what I told you that day. Be careful with Will. He’s got a lot going on, and I don’t think he’s being honest with the guys about what he wants for the team. He’s not—”

“This isn’t about me and Will. You have no idea, okay?” My voice wavers, and I close my mouth, willing her to go away. Why is she the one trying to protect me while my best friend is cuddling up with Frankie? Why didn’t Dani sit next to me? Why didn’t I ask her to?

Kara stands and grabs her purse from the back of the chair. “I just don’t want you to get hurt over this. That’s all.” She watches me a moment longer, but when I don’t respond, she finally says good-bye, following the crowd toward the exit in search of Ellie and her other friends.

“Heading home?” I ask Dani.

She looks toward the exit, then back to me. “We’re … um … we’re supposed to go for wings after the guys get changed. Do you … you could come if you want.”

“Maybe I’ll catch up later.”

“You sure?” Dani asks.

No. I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I’ll catch up later. I’m not sure if I want to go out for wings with you and Kara and Ellie, everyone laughing and chatting like this didn’t just happen, you and the hockey wives inseparable now. I’m not sure if I want to sit here and wait for Josh to come out of the locker room, try to talk to him again. I’m not sure if I want to scream at Will or ignore him. I’m not sure if you even want me around or if you just feel sorry for me. I’m not sure of anything.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Definitely sure.”

She squeezes my shoulder and for a second I think she might stay, convince me to go out with her or insist on ditching her plans. Look me straight in the eye, fold her arms over her chest, and call me out. Talk to me, girl, she’ll say. Spill it.

But she just sighs and slips behind me, weaving her way to the exit where the other girls wait.

When I turn around again, they’re gone.

Fresh snow blankets the parking lot, but my truck is totally clear, ready to go. Far from the crowds of Baylor’s, Will leans against my driver’s side door, jacket sleeves coated in snow, waiting.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he says when I get close. He’s got his boots and coat on, but underneath it all, he’s still wearing his hockey gear. His eyes are glassy, cheeks red from the cold. “I totally messed up. I tried to …” He motions toward my clean windshield.

“And now you think I want to hear anything out of your mouth? Just because you brushed the snow off my truck? Excuse me.” I push him aside and jam my key in the door lock.

“Let me explain. Please, Hudson.”