The championship game was supposed to be the happiest night of Tristan’s life.
I wondered if it would become the worst night of mine.
The arena buzzed long before the players stepped back onto the ice, every seat filled with jerseys, painted faces, overpriced beer, and people who looked like they’d waited their entire lives for tonight. The giant screens replayed Tristan’s highlights from the season over and over again, every goal earning another wave of cheers from the crowd until his name seemed to echo from every corner of the building.
Tristan Hale.
Number Seventeen.
Future MVP.
Future captain.
Future legend.
His name was everywhere. On the scoreboard. Across the backs of children’s jerseys. On homemade signs held high above the crowd.
In the mouths of thousands of strangers s
